Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(89)

“Fabulous, fabulous.” She took a deep drag. “Jacob, sweetheart, are you in any way mistreating my little dumpling of a granddaughter?”

In the corner, Joy stiffened. “Gigi.”

Meanwhile, Shivani—a middle-aged woman with a waterfall of black-and-silver hair—rolled her eyes. “Oh, Garnet. You ham-handed battering ram.”

“You say the sweetest things, dear.”

At which point, Jacob managed to gather the wits that question had knocked out of him. “Am I what?”

“Well,” Gigi said after another dragonlike exhalation, “I was dragged up here on the belief that my dear little muffin had gotten herself into some sort of trouble, or at the very least fallen in thrall to an unsuitable sort. Yet here we are, and you seem a perfectly reasonable man, and Eve—well, I could be confused, but I do believe Eve has dumped us all here to wait for her while she serves cake to strangers. Which suggests to me, darling, correct me if I’m wrong, that she simply works here, as opposed to anything more sinister.”

“It’s—it’s—it’s high tea,” Jacob managed. Sinister? Why in God’s name would anyone suspect something sinister? He was about to ask as much when Eve appeared in the doorway and beat him to it.

“What on earth are you talking about, Gigi?” she asked, and he practically fainted with relief at the sight of her. Because Jacob knew exactly how he would behave if any other group of posh, smoking arseholes appeared at his B&B and started looking around like he had something to hide, asking rude questions and generally making nuisances of themselves; he would shout a bit and curse a bit and throw them out on their arses.

But this was Eve’s family, and she cared about her family, and it seemed painfully clear that they cared about her. She’d ended up here because she was ashamed of disappointing them. They mattered. And he loved her. Which meant that Jacob was caught between his general—and growing—irritation, and the desire to be, well . . . not hated. Which wasn’t a place he’d often found himself, since entering adulthood.

He didn’t fucking like it.

But he’d stay here awhile longer, for her.

“And what are you all doing here?” Eve demanded, coming in and closing the door behind her. “Better yet, how are you here? I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

Her entrance seemed to spark energy into the room. Everyone rose to their feet, with the exception of Gigi, who was busy lounging around and smoking, and her darling Shivani, who was busy sighing and rolling her eyes. And also seemed to have secured a steaming flask of tea from somewhere. At least one of Eve’s relatives was sensible.

“Well,” said one of the sisters—Chloe, if he’d followed Gigi’s vague points correctly. “Do you remember, Evie-Bean, when you and I drove to the ballet in Birmingham, but we got lost and Danika came to get us? You turned your location on, so she could find us. And, well, none of us ever thought to turn it off.”

Eve opened and closed her mouth like a fish before blurting, “You stalked me?”

“She had to.” That was Eve’s mother, Joy, who was looking vaguely tortured and wringing her hands. “Your father and I know we were harsh, before. But you vanished into thin air and refused to tell anyone where you were.”

“So you decided to turn up here and—and heresy me?” Eve demanded.

“I think you mean harass, darling,” interjected the other sister, Danika. “And no, that isn’t why we’re here. Not entirely. We were going to leave you to it, but then Chloe and I got slightly . . . worried.”

“Worried? Why?”

There was a pause, and a few more wary looks in his direction, before Chloe spoke. “At first, every time we called or texted you’d tell us about this awful new job and how horrible your boss was.”

Jacob tried not to wince. She’d said at first, after all, and he supposed he deserved that.

“Then, all of a sudden, you were never free to talk because you and your boss were terribly busy,” Chloe went on awkwardly. “With all sorts of . . . after-hours meetings, and then last night you sent us a, erm, voice note.”

“What voice note?” Eve asked, her face a picture of confusion. But he saw the moment she realized what they were talking about. Jacob remembered it, too.

Eve had been sitting in her room, talking to her phone, and he’d come in demanding to know what she was doing. And then he’d dragged her off to his room.

Ah, shit.

“We thought you might be in some sort of sex cult,” Danika said baldly. “Those happen, you know.”

“A sex cult?” Eve squeaked. “At a bed-and-breakfast?”

“Well,” Gigi piped up, “clearly their worries were unfounded, because it looks as though there’s only you and Jacob, and sex cults typically require multiple members. Unless that strapping young man from outside is also involved, in which case, bravo.”

“Mother,” sighed Eve’s dad in weary tones.

“What, Martin? I’m not taking this lightly, you understand. I’m simply examining the facts.”

Joy spoke sharply over everyone. “The point is, we had no idea what was going on, so we’re here to check on your well-being. That’s all. We had intended to give you space, wait for you to come home next week—”