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“Because I’m gathering facts.”

Actually, I’m just plain curious about this side of you.

“Did you shout or just walk out?” He’d like to see her explode. Endless serenity was an impossibility. He knew because he worked at it. Clearly Bea buttoned down her emotions. Did she button down her dreams?

“I told them to look harder for a part-time job.”

“Did they shout?”

“What’s this obsession with shouting?” She crossed her arms defensively.

“You did.” Cas pointed a finger at her, delighted.

“You want me to shout?”

“Not at me, because, hey, I’m innocent, but I’d say your sisters were due a blast. Did either one of them commiserate with you on missing out on a job you deserved?” Cas bet that hurt more than their selfishness about the money.

“Do you shout in your family?” she asked, obviously protective of her family even when they let her down.

He understood the feeling.

“Dad, Mum on occasion, my sisters, although not so much anymore. Hunt’s not a shouter. I tend to withdraw a bit. To be honest, I’m not good at loud confrontations.”

Because people were usually struggling with emotions or to communicate their frustrations or longing or worry. The one person he’d wanted to yell at was Hunter’s father, an evil son-of-a-b, but Anna had usurped his role as lead protector in that area.

“Did Maha shout at you today? Is that why you’re here?”

“Maha widened her big brown eyes and sighed deeply. I packed an overnight bag, and said I’d be back for the rest.”

Cas had been catapulted back to an afternoon walking home from school. He’d been about seven. Maha had begged him not to tell their parents she’d been taunted because of her name.“Mum told me it means ‘beautiful eyes’ in Arabic. She’d be so hurt.”The first of many secrets he shared with Maha about slights, insults and bullying because their skin was a bit darker than most of their classmates in Anglo-Saxon Australia, because they shared whispers in a different language, and the food in their lunchboxes was unfamiliar.

“Are you always an obedient brother?”

“I’m a devoted brother.” A role Cas took seriously. “Are you wondering if I’ll be an obedient housemate?

“Papá’s the only man I’ve ever lived with.”

Did she just admit to no boyfriends? No relationships?

What twenty-something admitted that?

Even if it was true. Was it true?

Not your business, Cas.

Besides you don’t need your own place to have sex.

“Something tells me your head’s in the gutter. I’m talking cohabitation.”

“Think of me as a brother.”

No matter how hard he tried, Cas wouldn’t be able to think of her as a sister, given she was a smart, self-possessed woman who turned out to have luscious toenails and who could throw a tantrum when the situation warranted it. He nursed that knowledge to himself, along with the image of her in a damp kaftan clinging to voluptuous curves. Not that he’d act on the attraction.

“I don’t have a brother.”

“Let’s come at this from another angle.” He was enjoying the debate, although he suspected, like him, she’d already worked out the only way either of them would get what they wanted—a respite from their families in rent-free accommodation—was to agree to share. “We know each other, we have mutual friends, and there are twoseparate”—he emphasised the word—”bedrooms in this unit. I’ll let you have the bigger one.”

“I’ve already got the bigger one.”