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“Yeah,” Hugh grumbled sarcastically. “The snow outside a whorehouse.”
“Good luck with your interview, Claire-Bear.” Gerard pressed a featherlight kiss to my cheek before toeing on my at-least-five-sizes-too-small slippers. “Mind if I take a shower here? Keith always leaves a deposit worthy of an exorcism in the toilet before work that, I shit you not, takes a good three hours to fully flush down the—”
“Yes, we do. Now, get out!” Hugh instructed, pointing to the basket in the corner of my room that contained a sleeping Cherub and her brood of adorable offspring. “And take your share of those kittens back to your side of the street with you.”
“And separate them from their mother?” Gerard gaped. “What kind of a monster are you?”
“Cherub will be grand,” Hugh grumbled.
“I was referring to your sister.”
“You’re a head case, Gibs. Seriously fucking deranged.”
“Ignore your cranky uncle, babies,” Gerard called over his shoulder as he sauntered out of my room. “Daddy will be back tonight.”
“Go the fuck home, Gibs!”
“Fine. I need to go check on your nephew anyway.”
“He’s not my nephew, you freak. He’s a hedgehog in hibernation in your mam’s hot press because you and my sister have issues with taking in strays.”
“Whatever you say, lad. See you later for the beach trip, baby mama.”
Snickering, I held up a hand and waved at his retreating frame. “See you later, baby daddy.”
“Why do that?” Hugh demanded, tone resigned. “Why encourage the crazy?”
“Because I love his crazy.” I laughed, still grinning from ear to ear. “And so do you.”
“Yeah, and I’d love his crazy an awful lot more if it didn’t involve spending time in my baby sister’s bedroom,” Hugh grumbled. “Come on, Claire, I know you have it bad for him, but make smart choices here, will you?”
“Make smart choices?” I asked and then laughed in his face. I couldn’t help it. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and Gibs and your warped little sleepover club.”
“Oh my god, I loved those books,” I chimed in with a smile. “I had the entire collection when we were kids, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember, now back to the real-life sleepovers,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, there’s a reason Mam and Sadhbh put a stop to them when we left primary school.”
“Tried to put a stop to them,” I corrected with a snort. “And failed.”
“Come on, Claire,” he growled impatiently. “You know what can happen in the heat of the moment.”
“The heat of the moment?” I laughed. “What moment?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped, flustered. “Whatever moments you and him have when you’re alone.”
I arched a brow. “Meaning?”
“Sex.”
“Oh my god,” I laughed. “You’re so funny.”
“Funny?” His eyes widened to saucers. “Sex isn’t funny.”
“No, sex isn’t funny,” I agreed with a snicker. “But you are.”
“Two words, Claire,” he shot back. “Joey and Aoife.”
