Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3) - Talia Hibbert Page 0,121

the other stalls that made up the festival: ice cream stands, various restaurant stalls, and, of course, the actual gingerbread area.

And behind Eve . . .

Behind Eve stood the man she always felt before she saw. A familiar, golden thread wrapped tight around her stomach as she caught the clean, lemon and eucalyptus scent of him.

“Jacob,” she said softly, tipping her head back.

He smiled down at her, both hands filled by a pair of ice cream cones. “Hello, Sunshine.”

“I knew you’d get me one,” she beamed.

“Raspberry ripple.” He pressed a cone into her hand. “You’re welcome.”

“And you’re in my good books. Come sit with me,” she ordered, “and gaze upon all this gingery splendor.”

“You want me to gaze upon . . . your brother-in-law?” he asked as he sat down.

Eve snorted. “That was rather good.”

“Thank you. I try.” They sat practically on top of each other, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip to thigh. Jacob’s arm found its now-familiar place around her waist, his other hand wrapped around his own ice cream cone. But unlike Eve, who’d already fallen upon her raspberry ripple with animal enthusiasm, he wasn’t eating.

He was simply watching her.

His eyes were melting frost behind the frames of his glasses. His lower lip gave under the pressure of his teeth. “Eve,” he said. “I have something to ask you.”

She swallowed a mouthful of ice cream and looked over at Castell Cottage’s stall, where her parents stood watching, Gigi hovering in the background with her camera at the ready.

“Erm,” Eve said. “You’re not going to propose, are you? Because I’m still wearing my hairnet, and also, I might get excited and throw my ice cream at you.”

Jacob stared blankly at her for a moment, and she felt the first nervous flush of embarrassment. Whoops. She probably shouldn’t ask people if they were going to propose. But then again, this was Jacob, and if the last year had taught her anything, it was that she could ask Jacob whatever she wanted. Tell him whatever popped into her head. Do whatever took her fancy. So long as she loved him all the while, he would forever love her back—and his love was, above all, comfort.

So she flicked the embarrassment away.

Finally, he blinked back to life and released a surprised little laugh. “No,” he said. “No, I wasn’t going to propose. But, er, just for the sake of research—if I did, and you weren’t wearing a hairnet, and there wasn’t any ice cream to throw . . .” A lovely blush spread across his cheeks. “Would you say yes, Evie?”

Giddy pleasure sloshed about in her stomach, rather like champagne on a Jet Ski. “Erm,” she squeaked. “At the risk of seeming overeager, I do believe I would.”

“Good.” Jacob sounded deeply satisfied. “Hang on a second.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, opened up the notes app, and started typing. She peeked over his shoulder and saw the words: NO ICE CREAM.

Then he tutted at her and closed the app. “Oi. Nosy.”

“Jacob, are you writing a proposal plan?”

“Nosy,” he repeated, but he was grinning. “Now, as I was saying before you disrupted proceedings—”

“Jacob.” Eve was smiling so wide her face hurt, and it was entirely this man’s fault.

“Eve,” he shot back, arching one severe eyebrow. “Listen.”

“Fine, fine!” She schooled her features and cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Wayne? How may I help you?”

“You already help me, Ms. Brown. Which is why I got you this.” Setting aside his phone, Jacob fiddled in his pocket again and produced . . . a name tag? It was burgundy and gold, rather like the one Eve already wore. He dropped it into her outstretched palm, and she examined it more closely.

Yes; this name tag was exactly like the one Eve had worn all year, except for a minor difference. Written beneath the familiar phrase HELLO, MY NAME IS: EVE was one teeny, tiny word:

MANAGER

Speechless, she looked up at Jacob. “This is . . .”

He offered her the smallest, sweetest smile in the world. “We already do the job together. I was wondering if you’d be interested in making things official.”

Old doubts—in her abilities, in herself, in whether she deserved this when it was something she wanted so much—tried their best to rise from the dead. But with the ease born of a year’s practice, Eve kicked them back into their graves and let the brilliance of this moment wash over her, uninterrupted.

“You want me to be a manager,” she said.

“I do,” Jacob replied.

“Like you,” she said.

“With me,” Jacob replied. “Always with me.”

“Because you love me?”

“Because you’re good at it,” he corrected calmly, firmly, “and because I need you. Your ideas, your energy, your care—all of it. You’re not just my sunshine; you’re the sun. You make my business better. You make it ours.”

At which point, Eve dropped her ice cream and kissed Jacob so hard, they almost fell off the bench.

“Fabulous, darling!” Gigi cried, and somewhere in the distance, Eve heard the camera whirr.

Acknowledgments

What a journey the Brown sisters have taken me on. I’m so glad I dared to write them.

Thank you to my readers, old and new, for making me giddy with every email you send or Instagram caption you tag me in or book you buy. Thank you to my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan, and to my editor, Nicole Fischer, for making all this happen. Thanks to Imani Gary and Jes Lyons for presenting this series to the world in such a fun and thoughtful way, and to Laurie McGee for polishing this story until it shone.

Thank you to my beloved friends, who gas me up when I desperately need it, who offer advice or critique when I ask, who inspire me with their own work and thoughts and wonderfulness. Divya, Laila, Maz, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Dylan, Kennedy, Therese, KJ, and the countless others who have been so kind and supportive—you guys make this job extra magic.

Finally, thank you to Mum, Sam, and Tru. Writing this book during lockdown meant you got a terrifyingly up-close-and-personal view of my, ahem, “artistic process.” It wasn’t pretty. So. Thanks for not burning me at the stake, I suppose? Also, for keeping me alive and making me smile.

This book was powered by family.

About the Author

USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller TALIA HIBBERT is a Black British author who lives in a bedroom full of books. Supposedly, there is a world beyond that room, but she has yet to drum up enough interest to investigate. She writes sexy, diverse romance because she believes that people of marginalized identities need honest and positive representation. Her interests include beauty, junk food, and unnecessary sarcasm.

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Praise for Talia Hibbert

“Talia Hibbert is a rock star! Her writing is smart, funny, and sexy, but most importantly, she’ll make you fall in love with her sweetly imperfect characters, who are so real you’ll wish you could give them all a hug.”

—Meg Cabot, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Poised to be a hit.”

—Refinery29

“A fizzy, intoxicating sense of humor that bubbles off the page.”

—Entertainment Weekly

“A brilliant writer.”

—New York Times Book Review

“Hibbert is a major talent.”

—Kirkus Reviews

“Hibbert joins important voices in contemporary romance who write steamy page-turners where the characters look nothing like they did a generation ago—and that’s a wonderful thing.”

—Washington Post

“We are in for a real treat . . . you’ll get lost in the hilarious yarn . . .”

—Essence

Also by Talia Hibbert

Get a Life, Chloe Brown

Take a Hint, Dani Brown

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ACT YOUR AGE, EVE BROWN. Copyright © 2021 by Talia Hibbert. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Cover design and illustration by Ashley Caswell

FIRST EDITION

Digital Edition MARCH 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-294128-2

Version 01072020

Print ISBN: 978-0-06-294127-5

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