Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3) - Talia Hibbert Page 0,80
“That’s okay,” she said. “I could explore, if I wanted to, after tea, or—”
“Except you’re usually bone-tired because I work you like a dog.”
She laughed out loud. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Jacob, you’re wrong.”
“Things will be different when my wrist is healed. In four weeks, your workload will be greatly reduced, I promise.”
She turned and flashed him another look he couldn’t decipher—one completely devoid of levity or even sarcasm. “Right,” she said softly. “Just four weeks.” Then she swallowed, and turned away, skipping ahead of him. “I bet you make sweet promises to all the indentured servants.”
He snorted, then caught a familiar movement up above. Wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her back against him without even thinking. The instant her soft, round arse pressed into his thighs, bird shit splattered on the pavement where she’d stood.
Eve, predictably, screamed. It was only a little scream, but really. “Jesus, woman,” he muttered.
“Poop!”
“Yes. Welcome to the countryside. What were you saying about lovely towns?”
“Fuck you,” she laughed.
He found his own mouth curling into a smile, an automatic response. Then he ruthlessly corralled it back into a straight line, because he’d read many books over the years, and one of those books had been about how not to break under torture. Your tormentors would start with little things, easy concessions to get you used to cooperating with them. If he allowed himself to smile when Eve was lovely—and she was often lovely—next thing he knew he’d be laughing with her, and talking to her properly—and surely the next step was dragging her up to his room and fucking her into the mattress. He could even imagine the sounds she’d make, the way her hands would glide over his skin as if just the feel of him turned her on. He could imagine, when he allowed himself to do so, everything.
Hence why he could give no quarter when it came to smiles.
He rolled his eyes at her instead, and let her go. Well, almost. Two of his fingers snagged the belt loop at the back of her jeans, hooking around the fabric, staying there. But only, he told himself, because someone needed to guide her around. This was unknown terrain. There was bird poop about. It was his responsibility to hold on to her like this.
Clearly she agreed, because she stayed close as they walked.
* * *
The first place on Jacob’s accommodation list was, as it turned out, his aunt’s house.
Lucy’s was a lovely little place, a bungalow being eaten alive by wisteria in a way Eve quite adored. And it had a spare room—the one Jacob and his cousin Liam had shared, growing up, which was now an immaculate double bedroom. Apparently, Eve might rent said bedroom for a nominal fee.
“So he’s chucking you out,” Lucy said from the doorway as Eve looked politely around the space. “Have you pissed him off that badly?”
Eve tried not to be intimidated by the other woman’s impassive expression or horrifyingly mature work boots. (Plain black. Not even a jaunty yellow stitch. Not even a few hearts and daisies doodled in fluorescent highlighter. Good Lord.)
“No comment,” Eve said, and flicked a glance at Jacob, who stood broodingly in the corner. She wasn’t sure what their party line was, since she couldn’t exactly tell his aunt he’d licked her out on a sofa and didn’t trust himself not to do it again.
Unfortunately for her, Jacob didn’t appear to be listening to the conversation. He continued to brood broodily in silence.
“I suppose it can’t be that bad,” Lucy said. “He’d be making a hell of a lot more noise if you’d annoyed him.”
“Or perhaps I’ve annoyed him so much that he’s utterly run out of fury.”
Lucy’s gaze flicked sharply to Eve’s, those frosty eyes narrowed. They studied Eve for one palm-sweating second, as if searching her expression for some sort of mockery or judgment. But she must not have found any, because after a moment, the coldness drained right out of her, replaced by an amused smirk. “Maybe. How are you finding it, then? The job?”
“Jacob thinks he’s working me too hard.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “He has grand ideas about labor and human rights.”
In the corner, Jacob blinked. “Are you talking about me?”
“Darling,” Eve said, “would we ever? Go on, get back to brooding.”
He grunted and recommenced staring at the wall. Apparently, he’d decided to actually follow Eve’s directive. Amazing. Well, one mustn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.