Page 24 of The Front Runner
“This way.” I saunter further into the house, leading her to the open-concept kitchen.
“Your place is so cozy. For its size I expected it to be different.”
“Thanks. I think?”
She chuckles as we enter the kitchen, my favorite room in the house. It’s surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that slide open onto the patio overlooking the small lake out front. The living room and dining room all blend into the big open space with vaulted ceilings. Warm cream tones play off dark stained wood and exposed stones.
Mira walks to the oversized island in the center of the kitchen and props herself up on one of the stools before looking over at me expectantly while I try not to stare at the expanse of creamy skin between the hemline of her dress and high socks. That small tease of bare skin feels particularly stimulating in the comfort of my home.
“Well? You promised me wine. I could really use some wine.”
“Pfft, you and I both.” I round the island and slide over two bottles of red wine. “Pinot Noir or Cabernet?”
She reaches out, dainty fingers wrapping around each bottle as she pulls them toward herself. Her lips roll together as she eyes the bottles. “Let’s start with the Pinot.”
I chuckle. “Start with, huh?”
She smiles back at me. “Would be a shame to let these go to waste.”
I shake my head as I reach for the bottle with the purple label. The tips of my fingers graze hers, sending a tingling sensation up through my joints, right into my wrist, morphing into an ache in the crook of my elbow. I drop my eyes and turn away quickly, trying to put the feeling of her nearness out of my mind as I uncork the wine.
I hate the way she throws me off balance.
When I turn back around to decant the bottle of wine, Mira is sneaking a furtive glance over at the leather couch where Nadia, her wavy blonde hair freshly washed and falling loose to her shoulders, is curled up reading a book with her sound cancelling headphones on. Under the glow of the floor lamp, with her doll-like face scrubbed free of makeup, she looks younger than she often does.
I don’t love easily, but when I do it’s fiercely. Which is probably why my mother’s betrayal stung as badly as it did. There may be thirteen years between Nadia and me, I may not know her that well, but she’s all the family I’ve got left, and I love her with every bit of my soul. I’ve wanted to protect her for years, and now that she’s finally back with me, I probably won’t ever stop. I may not have been able to protect my mother, but I will protect Nadia if it’s the last thing I do. Leaving her behind killed me, and I’m happy to have her here no matter the added challenge. I would burn the town to the ground for her, and today I almost did.
“Is she okay?” Mira asks.
I pour us each a large bell of deep red liquid and slide her glass toward her. “No. But she will be. She’s tough.” I swirl the wine and inhale the cranberry scent, letting my eyes bounce between the two women before me. “People see that strength and try to tear her down. I think some people—men in particular—thrive off that. She’s young now and has me to make them regret that type of behavior. But in a few years, she won’t need my help at all.” I smirk into the glass as I take a drink, letting the flavour of cherries and menthol pour across my tongue. “She reminds me a bit of you.”
Mira takes a sip, snuggling further down into the upholstered stool, and looks back over at my little sister with renewed interest. “May I ask what happened?”
My molars grind against each other unbidden. “I received a call from Principal Cooper asking me to come down to the school. There were issues all last year, and this year is nothing new. She’s nineteen now, but the transition to living in Canada hasn’t been an easy one. Not to mention what our family has been through the last few years.” Mira’s eyes widen in interest, but she doesn’t make a move to ask anything further. Something I appreciate. “She failed a few classes last year. She’s re-taking them, and it seems to me, she’s got a target on her back.”
I stare down into the wineglass, swirling it, trying to keep my agitation from creeping out and taking over. “Apparently, the principal saw her and felt her skirt was too short. So, in a hallway full of her peers, he made the girl who has already been singled out as the one who failed last year kneel on the floor to prove the skirt didn’t meet their dress code by one inch.” My lips press together almost painfully as I shake my head at the memory.
“Excuse me?” Mira leans forward, her eyes flaring with rage that is reflected in my own. “Did you flatten him?”
I chuckle darkly.I wish. “I’ll admit I went nuclear. I don’t know how I’ll send her back. Or if it’s even my place to. She’s smart—too smart—but she’s also proud and this was a real blow to her pride.” The memory of her tear-stained face still has the power to set me off.
“No shit.” Her words come out with a bite. “Stefan, you can’t send her back to that school. There are other options, and she won’t be missing out on the experience of being at school at this point in her life. Whatever you do, don’t let her see that patriarchal assholes behaving poorly don’t face consequences.”
Her words land like lead in my gut.
But the fierce spark in her eye makes my heart race.
9
Mira
Stefan oozes confidencein the kitchen, something I didn’t expect to find so attractive. I watch him chop and stir and move around the industrial-style space with such ease that I almost wonder if he was a chef in a past life. The wine is delicious, just like he promised. It tastes expensive, but I also drink wine straight out of the bottle on girls’ nights, so it’s possible I’m not the best gauge for fancy.
He seems quieter, less jovial, since that conversation about his sister and the sexist pig of a principal. He’s lost himself in cooking, and after my second glass of wine, I give up on trying not to check him out. Never mind porn—he looks more like my unfulfilled professor fantasies. The black rims of his glasses contrast perfectly against the bronze glow of his hair. The turtleneck makes him look uptight and proper, but I know better, and it just adds to his allure.
I shouldn’t be looking, but I’m defiant. It’s a character flaw. When someone tells me not to do something, it makes me want to do it more. I’m Eve picking the apple just to see what happens. Want me to settle down and have babies? I think I’ll throw myself into my education and my job. Want me to hate Stefan Dalca? I think I’ll start fantasizing about him instead.
It’s not healthy. And I still have two dates to go.
