Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(69)

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.

“I’ve been enjoying it,” she said to Lucy. “I like cooking for people.” Eve had always known that, of course—but it had never occurred to her that some things could be even more rewarding on a professional basis. Now, she actually looked forward to work every morning; looked forward to taking care of people not just because she had nothing better to do, but because it was her job. She’d spent days waiting for that feeling to fade.

It was only getting stronger.

“I think,” she said out loud, “that making people happy sort of—fuels me. I like working hard to give them things. I like seeing them enjoy those things. It’s kindness and performance and creation all at once.”

“Hm,” Lucy murmured, looking pleased. “So you’re only moving out to get away from Jacob, then.”

“Actually,” Eve joked back, “he’s trying to get away from me.”

At which point, Jacob’s distant gaze snapped toward Eve. “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “Excuse me, Aunt Lucy. I just need to . . .” His voice trailed off, possibly because he couldn’t figure out how to say, I just need to grab Eve by the hand and drag her off into this cupboard. Which is exactly what he did.

Eve, of course, let herself be dragged. Actually, she was thrilled to be dragged—damn her treacherous nervous system. Jacob’s hand was big and calloused in hers, and it held her so tightly. He pushed her into the cupboard, shut the door behind them, and there they stood in the dark.

A curse floated softly between them. “Forgot,” he said shortly. “The switch is on the outside.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured, which it didn’t, because he was still holding her hand.

A taut moment passed. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry to drag you in here, I just—Eve—you don’t really think that, do you?”

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. But once she did, the spark of irritation in her chest, the one she’d been ignoring since Sunday, became a teeny, tiny flame. “Well, yes.” She frowned. “Of course I think you’re trying to get away from me. Because you are.”

His grip on her hand tightened, relaxed. “No,” he said firmly, as if the word itself could bend reality. “No.”

“Oh, come on, Jacob,” she whispered, except her whisper sounded alarmingly like a hiss. A very soft and quiet hiss, but still. “We—things went too far, between us. I know that. And then all of a sudden you remembered how desperately you wanted me out of your house. Fine. Your decision. I’m going along with it. But you’re not allowed to pretend it’s something else.”