Page 40 of Naughty or Nice

‘I’m not about to kick you out in just my T-shirt if that’s what you’re worried about—you can tell me.’

Her lips quirk. ‘No, I don’t think you’d do that.’

‘Then tell me.’

She looks me over and that unease mounts.

‘It’s nothing, I’m just...’ She shrugs. ‘I’m just enjoying this. It’s nice...like old times.’

‘I’ve been thinking the same.’

I like that she feels it too. Really like it. And it’s a problem—I know it is—but the warmth it brings is there regardless.

Suddenly she gives a little giggle and that cosy feeling inside me blooms, edging out the unease. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘You remember that time when Mum went all vegetarian on our arses and wouldn’t let a scrap of meat into the house?’

My smile is instant, the memory as vivid as yesterday. ‘You mean the ribs fiasco?’

She giggles again and I hook on to the sound. It’s so carefree, so easy. ‘I don’t think that Chinese takeaway had any left by the time you, Nate and I finished raiding it.’

‘True—but Nate was the worst offender. He could put away a truckload.’

‘Yeah, but it was your idea.’ She looks at me and licks her lips. ‘You were mortified when Mum found the remains in the bin the next day.’

‘Can you blame me? If you’d only taken the bin out, like you were supposed to, that never would have happened.’

‘Well, you and Nate got your own back—tossing me into the pool fully clothed.’

A wicked rush surges south and I tense against it. I remember that moment too. And I remember when she stepped out of the pool, soaked and ranting, not realising that her white tee clung to her every curve. It was a month before her eighteenth birthday, and the day I acknowledged that my feelings towards her had changed.

Unfortunately Nate had sensed it too.

I clear my throat and shake my head at her. ‘You deserved it.’

‘Hmph...’ she says over her spring roll, her eyes alive and holding my own.

I don’t want this to end.

‘Stay the night?’ It’s out before I can stop it, but I manage to avoid adding please, begging.

Her lashes lower; her eyes flicker away.

The mood is shattered—once again thanks to my big mouth.

She drops the last bite of spring roll onto her plate and wipes her fingers on some kitchen towel. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’

It’s more abrupt than I want to be, but I know that after she leaves we won’t get this back—this moment, this connection.

Her watch goes off again, her phone echoing the buzz, and she glances at it.

Anger fires in my veins. I know the answer even before I ask, ‘Who is it, Eva?’

Her eyes flick to mine, her cheeks now pale. ‘I think you know.’

‘Your father...mother... Nate...?’