Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(53)

Sorry. He’d barely done anything wrong. He’d given her a slightly negative feeling caused by a series of implications based on practically nothing. Which wasn’t to say those feelings didn’t matter; only that it was rare for others to take them seriously. Yet here he stood, watching her with actual remorse. Something in her softened like warm butter.

She lifted her chin and made her words as crisp as she could. “I suppose I forgive you, then.”

He laughed. “Not your fault you’re a princess, after all.”

“And it’s not your fault you’re in constant, tongue-tied awe of my sophistication.”

He spluttered, choked, and then they were both snickering together like unruly children. She almost forgot they were in the middle of a gallery, until a cultured baritone cut into their laughter.

“Red. Still charming the ladies, I see.”

The huffy turtleneck wearer was back, accompanied by the man who’d spoken. He was in his forties or fifties, dark-skinned and classically handsome, wearing a suit so sharp, it should be kept away from infants and waterbeds. He had a shiny white smile and twinkling eyes, and his clear pleasure at seeing Red was giving Turtleneck heart palpitations.

“Julian,” Turtleneck spluttered indignantly. “These are the individuals I told you about. I’m quite certain they aren’t guests of the—”

“Go away, Tom.”

Turtleneck Tom blinked. “Well,” he said ominously. He was quivering with indignation. Nobody cared. He stormed off.

“Redford Morgan,” Julian grinned—Julian Bishop, the gallery owner, Chloe presumed. Interesting. “You’ve not changed a bit. I know you secretly enjoy making my guests nervous.”

“Ah, fuck off,” Red said cheerfully, and dragged Julian into a hug. There was a collective intake of breath around them as the guests waited for Red to stab Julian, or shoot him, or perhaps rip out the other man’s throat with his teeth. When nothing much happened, aside from Julian laughing and hugging Red back, the crowd slowly began to lose interest.

The two men clapped each other on the back and threw insults. “I heard you were home. I mean, I heard you, stomping around in those boots like a giant.”

“Sorry we can’t all be pocket-sized. Wish I was little like you, but …”

Julian, who was all of two inches shorter, rolled his eyes. “How’s your mother?”

“Same as always. Can’t do fuck all with her.” Red’s voice, always warm, became a blanket by the fireplace in winter. He loved his mother. Chloe probably should’ve guessed, what with the tattoo on his knuckles, but now she heard him and she knew. “How’s your dad?”

“The same as always. Incorrigible. Where have you been?”

“Avoiding you, aren’t I?”

“So it seems.” Julian turned serious as the two men stepped apart.

“Nah, come on,” Red said. “I’ve been busy.” His easy charm was dialed up to ten, his smile slow and confident as ever, his broad body relaxed because he was comfortable in his own skin. Except, for once, she didn’t believe it. For once, he seemed to be performing. She was absolutely certain that he was utterly uncomfortable. She remembered how quietly edgy he’d been at his flat, when he’d put his art in her hands and tried to pretend the moment wasn’t ripping him open.

She knew Red’s disappearance from this world had started about eighteen months ago. Now the question clanged in her head like slow, heavy church bells. What happened eighteen months ago to make him feel like this?

“Hmm. Will you introduce me to your friend?” Julian asked, twinkling in her direction. Someone should cover those pretty eyes of his. They might cause an accident.

“This is Chloe,” Red said. “Chlo, Julian.”

She nodded. “Hello.”

“Hello to you, too,” Julian murmured, taking her hand. He didn’t shake it. He kissed it. His lips were firm and the kiss was light. She didn’t want to smack him for it, nor did she find herself battling the urge to climb him like a tree. And so she didn’t pull away.

Red didn’t seem to approve, narrowing his eyes at his friend. “Leave her alone,” he said, and put an arm around her shoulders.

“Why?” Julian grinned.

“She’s a lady, she doesn’t like shady art dealers. Do you, Chloe?”

Chloe said, very seriously, “I try not to judge people.”

“That’s bullshit,” Red said. “She’s being polite. She thinks you’re obnoxious and your eyes are too small. Tell him, Chloe.”

“You have lovely eyes,” she said to Julian, quite sincerely.

“I told you, she’s a lady. She can’t insult you to your face, but she’s thinking it. Anyway, we’re in a rush. I just popped in. We have to go.”

Julian snorted. “So soon?”

“We’ve got a hot date at McDonald’s. Don’t want to miss it. She gets pissy without regular carbs.”

Well, that was technically true.

“Wait a moment,” Julian said, and produced his card, smooth as silk. “Since you apparently lost my number …”

Red looked slightly guilty as he stuffed the glossy rectangle into his jeans pocket. “Yeah, sorry about that, mate. I’ll ring you.”