Down London Road (On Dublin Street, #2)(6)

His attitude towards me pricked, but I decided not to let it bother me, snuggling more happily into Malcolm’s side now that I knew Cole was tucked in safe in our flat on London Road.





2


While Becca no doubt tried to talk Malcolm into extending the lease on the gallery, I wandered off towards the coat rail, my back to the room as I called Cole.

‘What?’

I made a face at the way my little brother had taken to answering the phone lately. Apparently, becoming a teenage boy meant that the carefully seeded manners I’d tried to plant in him were no longer applicable. ‘Cole, you answer the phone like that to me again and I’m selling the PS3 on eBay.’ I’d dipped into our savings to buy him the video console for Christmas. It had been worth it at the time. Apparently becoming a teenager meant Cole no longer had the ability to show excitement. I tried to make Christmas as thrilling as possible for Cole when he was a kid, and I got all juiced up on how crazy happy he got when Santa was coming. Those days had disappeared somewhere, and I missed them. However, the sight of Cole’s shy grin when he opened his PS3 had given me that feeling back for a moment. He’d even patted me on the shoulder and told me I’d done good. Condescending little shit, I thought affectionately.

Cole sighed. ‘Sorry. I told you I was home. I got a lift off Jamie’s dad.’

I breathed an inward sigh of relief. ‘Have you done your homework?’

‘I’m trying to do it just now but someone keeps interrupting me with paranoid texts and phone calls.’

‘Well, if you contact me at the time you say you will I won’t bug you so much.’

He just grunted. This was a response I was becoming familiar with.

I nibbled on my lip, feeling my stomach flip unpleasantly. ‘How’s Mum?’

‘Out for the count.’

‘You had dinner?’

‘Pizza at Jamie’s.’

‘I left you a Pop-Tart if you’re still hungry.’

‘Cheers.’

‘You going to bed soon?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Promise?’

Another big sigh. ‘Promise.’

I nodded, trusting him. He had a small group of friends he played video games with and didn’t get into trouble with; he was studious, and helpful around the house on occasion. As a little boy he’d been the sweetest thing to ever come into my life. He’d been my shadow. As a teenager things like being openly affectionate with your big sister were uncool. I was learning to adjust to the transition. I refused, however, to ever let a day pass without him knowing how loved he was. Growing up, I’d never had that in my life and I was going to make damn sure that Cole did. No matter how goofy he thought I was. ‘I love you, baby boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I hung up before he could grunt at me again and spun around, only to inhale sharply.

Cam stood before me. He looked at me as he pulled Becca’s phone out of her coat, which was hanging on the rail. His gaze skimmed down my figure again before coming to rest on the floor as he said, ‘You don’t have to ask about the job for me.’

I narrowed my eyes at him, my hackles rising. What was with this guy? What was with my reaction to him? Like I gave a crap what he thought about me. ‘You need the job, right?’

Those deep blue eyes of his met mine again. I watched the muscle in his jaw flex along with his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

I had a feeling it was just pure muscle underneath his shirt.

He gave me no verbal answer, but with body language like that I didn’t need one.

‘Then I’ll ask.’

Without a word of gratitude – not even a nod – Cam turned away and I felt the tension begin to drain out of me. Then, as he stopped and slowly turned back, the tension built up again, as though someone had stuck a plug in my sink.

Although Cam’s lips weren’t full, the upper lip had a soft, expressive curve to it, giving him this perpetually sexy curl. That expressiveness seemed to vanish whenever he directed dialogue my way. His lips thinned. ‘Malcolm is a good guy.’

My pulse picked up speed, having had enough experience of people’s perception of me to know where this was going. I just didn’t want it to be going there with this guy. ‘Aye, he is.’

‘Does he know you’re seeing someone behind his back?’

Okay … I hadn’t expected it to be going there. I found myself mirroring him, my arms crossing over my chest defensively. ‘Excuse me?’

He smirked, his eyes running the length of me for the fifteenth time. I saw a flicker of interest he couldn’t quite hide, but I guessed his disgust for me overruled any masculine appreciation for my body. His eyes were hard when they met mine. ‘Look, I know your type well. I grew up watching a parade of gorgeous bimbos walk in and out of my uncle’s life. They took what they could and then f*cked around on him behind his back. He didn’t deserve that, and Malcolm doesn’t deserve some empty-headed footballer’s-wife-wannabe who thinks that texting on her phone during an adult conversation is socially acceptable or that planning to meet up with another man tomorrow while her boyfriend is standing across the room isn’t morally and emotionally bankrupt.’

I tried to ignore the twist in my gut at his unwarranted assault. For some reason this *’s words penetrated. However, instead of waking up the shame that only I knew existed within me, his words ignited my outrage. Usually, I swallowed my irritation and anger at people, but for some reason my voice wouldn’t listen to my brain. It wanted to spit his words right back at him. I was determined, however, not to approach him in the ‘empty-headed’ manner he expected.