Heather Macallister - Personal Relations

Last night was Courtney’s third date this week with Jeff Ryan, a boy in every sense of the word. Courtney said he was a fellow senior at West Houston High, but Brooke had a hard time believing it.

Baby fat still padded his muscles and if he had to shave more than once a week, Brooke would be surprised. In fact, when Brooke had met him just last Monday, she’d been surprised that Courtney had been dating him.

He wasn’t Courtney’s type. Not that there was anything wrong with the boy. If he had another ten years’ seasoning, he’d be exactly the type of husband Brooke would want for her younger sister. But right now, he was just potential with hormones and a car.

Yeah, the hormones were there, in spite of the smooth cheeks. Brooke had seen the way he watched Courtney, had seen the way he’d touch her shoulder and arm, and the way he’d tuck her hair behind her ear when they sat next to each other. The car wasn’t the only thing with something under the hood.

Brooke studied her sister, realizing she’d taken the wrong tack. She’d been antagonistic and had immediately put Courtney on the defensive. At Courtney’s age, she would have hated that. So why couldn’t she remember what it felt like to be eighteen, with her whole life ahead of her?

Maybe because she’d never been eighteen with a bright future ahead of her. Maybe because she’d screwed everything up at age seventeen.

Nobody knew better than Brooke how one bad decision could have far-reaching consequences. She was lucky that her parents trusted her enough to keep an eye on Courtney while they worked overseas in El Bahar.

This time, Brooke wasn’t going to let them down.

“SHE’S SO CUTE. And you should see the way her eyes crinkle and her nose kind of scrunches up when she laughs.”

Chase Davenport threw away the shiny silk tie that exactly matched his shirt and reached for a tie with a raised pattern. One that he could manage to coerce into a knot, which he was finding hard to do when his hands were shaking with suppressed anger. He should have known that Courtney was trouble. “A wife needs a few more qualities than crinkly eyes and a…scrunchy nose.” Chase spoke with deceptive mildness, so deceptive that his stepbrother continued to list more of his girlfriend’s insipid qualities, oblivious to Chase’s disgust.

The boy was barely eighteen and already a gold digger had her hooks in him. Chase had hoped to shield Jeff from women of this type. Women like Jeff’s mother.

Of course. Why should Chase be surprised? Jeff no doubt felt comfortable around gold diggers. It ran in his blood. Chase tightened the knot on his tie, satisfied at last. What irony. The son of a gold digger caught by a gold digger.

Too bad it wasn’t in Chase to appreciate the irony. He’d long ago abandoned any thoughts of revenge against Zoe Colquitt Ryan Zukerman Brown Davenport el Haibik del Franco. It was his father’s business, not his, and Chase had already been out on his own during their brief marriage. Besides, for a while, he’d had a little brother.

Jeff wasn’t so little anymore, if he was talking about marriage. It was absurd. He interrupted Jeff’s blathering. “Have you actually proposed to the girl?”

“Well, like, yeah. That’s how we know we’re getting married.”

“Did you give her a ring?”

“A ring?”

“An engagement ring, usually a diamond, which you’ll slip onto the fourth finger of her left hand. She’ll squeal happily, maybe even manage to squeeze out a tear or two, then race over to her girlfriends who will make all kinds of admiring noises while they mentally appraise the size and quality of the stone.”

“Uh, I don’t think Courtney is that kind of girl.”

“They’re all that kind of girl.”

“Courtney’s different.”

Chase stifled a sigh. “What does her family say?” Maybe they could form an alliance.

“Oh, her sister thinks we definitely should get married.”

“Would that be the hot sister?”

“I meant classy.” Jeff got that sappy look on his face again. “She can see how much in love we are and said we shouldn’t wait too long.”

Yeah, sounded like the sister had dollar signs in her eyes, too.

Great. Extricating his stepbrother from this mess was sounding more expensive all the time.

BROOKE DRANK her orange juice as she considered her next remark. “When’s the wedding?”

Courtney threw her a startled look, quickly masked. “Well…Valentine’s Day is coming up. It would be a shame to miss the opportunity.”

Brooke couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t a moment to be calm after all. “Two weeks? Are you crazy? You’re not even out of high school yet. And what about college? You’re just going to throw all that away?”

Courtney slammed down her spoon, sending droplets of milk over her sister’s sleeve. Brooke dabbed at them, knowing they’d be covered up by her suit jacket.

“Yes, let’s talk about college,” Courtney said. “I do not want to go to Texas, or A&M, or Texas Tech—”

“You don’t have to. I’ve been saving, too, so you can go to a private college if you want. You can go to Baylor, or George—”

“Or the Los Angeles School of Cinematic Arts?”

“No film school.”

Courtney sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then I don’t see that I’m throwing away much.”

“How could you do this to Mom and Dad?”

“Oh, please, not that again.”

“Yes, that. They’ve worked hard so that you—”

“They wouldn’t have had to work so hard if it hadn’t been for you.”

The sisters stared at each other. Brooke couldn’t have spoken past the sudden lump in her throat even if she’d wanted to. Courtney suddenly couldn’t meet her eyes.

She might have even been going to apologize, except that there was a knock on the kitchen door. Leaping up, Courtney threw open the door to Jeff.

“Jeff,” she cooed and draped herself over him. “I’ve missed you sooo much.”

“I’ve missed you,” Jeff said, after he adjusted to Courtney’s deadweight and put his arms around her waist.

“I’ve missed you more.”

“I’ve missed you more.”

“Missed you more times infinity.” Courtney nuzzled against him, her lips inches from his.

Jeff moved even closer. “Missed you more times infinity plus one.”

“I missed you—”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Brooke took her bowl of cereal over to the sink and dumped the contents down the disposal. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw that Courtney and Jeff were alternately kissing and murmuring at each other.

Teenagers and their overactive hormones. Why wasn’t there a pill for that sort of thing? Surely some doctor somewhere was working on one. Brooke should contribute.

She turned on the disposal, counting on the noise to break the mood.

“Let me put on my lip gloss—it’ll just take a sec.” Courtney dug the little pot out of her backpack and stepped into the half bathroom off the kitchen.

Good. If she took the time to put on lip gloss, it meant she wasn’t planning on a makeout session on the way to school.

“Did Courtney tell you the news?” Jeff stood in the still-open doorway, grinning a little wolfishly in Brooke’s opinion. Grinning like a male who’d gotten free milk.

“Yes.” Brooke cleared away the rest of the dishes knowing that Courtney would race out of the house without even thinking about it. Another sign of immaturity.

“I was kinda hoping for a congratulations or something.”

“Forget it. She’s mad. I told you she would be.” Courtney dropped the lip gloss into the backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

“How did your parents take the news?” Brooke asked Jeff.