“Are you going to tell me a little about yourself?” A little more than the tidbits Rose fed me, hopefully. I still can’t believe she’s been so close to me all this time.
“Would you like me to fill out a tenancy application?”
“How about we just get to know each other a little better,” I reply, ignoring her tone. Give me a little more personal stuff. So you like a daddy play? Don’t deny it. I saw your eyes widen, little girl. “So, Camden. Home of the lock and the market. But I think I detect a little something else in that accent, too.” A soft lilt of something almost lyrical. “Is it Scots?”
“My granny is Irish,” Lulu suddenly supplies from behind her mom as she hopscotches into the room, reminding me of two things. One, my sister used to love to play hopscotch, and two, I need to keep my budding obsession in check for more reasons than one.
Family. I wonder if I can still count them as that, considering they no longer acknowledge me. Fuck them.
“Ah, that must be it.” I raise my wine to my mouth as her gaze follows it there. A little English, a little Irish, a lot hot, and so fucking delicious to fluster.
Have I always had a thing for women in glasses? I don’t recall thinking them crazy hot before. But there’s just something very proper about the vibe a woman in glasses gives off. Maybe something that suggests virtue. And the opposite of virtue is always vice. It’s a good path to travel, let me tell you.
“I was borned in France,” Lulu announces, repressing my amorous zeal. “But I’m not really French.”
“So that makes you Frenglish, right?”
“No, I’m just Lulu. How many times do I gots to tell you?” She giggles as her mother releases a tiny breath, almost as though relieved the exchange stopped there. “Uncle Carson, will you make me pancakes in the morning again?”
“Eloise Rose, stop being so forward!”
“I’m not forward,” she retorts. “I’m bold.”
“Hey, Lu. If I promise to make you breakfast, will you give me a few minutes to talk to Mommy?”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Turning, Fee grabs the kid, planting her on the stool next to her. “Sit here and play quietly on my phone.” Sliding her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, she hands it to her small hands.
“Can I buy a new game?” Lulu raises her eyes along with her question, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.
“Don’t push your luck,” her mother retorts.
“Is she intended as an audience or a human shield?” I slide an amused glance the kid’s way, who is now engrossed in the screen. Fee’s answer, when I look back, is a narrow-eyed stare. “You should’ve just said you find me irresistible. That you can’t trust yourself to be around me.”
“Funny,” she says, sounding anything but amused. “I thought you wanted to talk. Not annoy.”
Well, I’m having fun. I try to temper my enjoyment as I place my glass down and lean against the island counter. “I realise I wasn’t meant to be here,” I say, my tone turning serious. “I apologise for turning up unannounced.”
“What you should apologise for is your behaviour, not for turning up in your own home.”
“Well, that would be an insincere apology.”
“A normal person would at least try to look sorry.”
“Normal is overrated,” I answer with a shrug. “But I told Rose the place would be empty, that you could stay as long as you needed. I’m sure she’d realise this was a genuine mistake on my part, but beyond that, I do wonder what you’ll tell her.”
I generally don’t care for what people think, but I’d like to hang on to Rose’s good opinion. God knows it took me long enough to prove I was genuine in my interest in her foundation. Would Fee tell her about last night? About our history?
“I’m not about to mention any of this to Rose,” she mutters adamantly. “But this is your home, not mine. It isn’t appropriate for us to stay here, especially not after, well, you know.”
“What isn’t appropriate? A friend of a friend staying over?”
“We’re not staying over, though, are we? We’ve been living here for over two weeks already. But you were right about the price of hotels,” she adds, obviously discomforted. “But we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can.”
“Our past doesn’t have to change things. This could work out for both of us.”
The look she sends me is so cold it’d freeze the balls off a snowman.
“Get your head out of the gutter, angel. I just meant you need a place to stay, and I don’t exactly like leaving this place empty. It’s true,” I add as she looks unconvinced. “You’ve looked after the place. And saved me from worrying about my plants.”