“I didn’t know you like to watch.” He frowns at my words. “I saw the curtains twitching.”
His expression twists before his mild answer carries across the space between us. “What am I supposed to be watching?”
I glance at the flower bed. Purple crocuses and daffodils, ornamental grasses waking from a long winter slumber. I inhale a deep breath and paste on mydo I give a fuckface.“You’ve been panting after Mimi since she got here,” I say, very obviously misunderstanding his meaning.
“Hey, Mimi.”
“Oh, hey, El.” Mimi’s happy expression peeks above an explosion of flowers. “Good to see you.”
No, it’s a fucking ball ache.
“You, too. Where’d you go Friday night?”
“Are we allowed in, or what?” I mutter pugnaciously, remembering about a second too late that I’m not supposed to reach for Mimi’s hand. She shoves the bouquet at me as though that’s what I’m after. I almost take them, too. “You give them to Polly.”
“But you paid for them.”
“I’ll dock the money out of your pay,” I grumble, turning away.
Of course, El clocks the entire exchange. Tough shit he doesn’t look too happy about it.
28
WHIT
“Oh, my goodness!”Polly’s enthusiasm knows no bounds as she takes the proffered bouquet. “How beautiful, but you really shouldn’t have.”
The sun streams through the bifold doors sparking off the stone countertops and white shaker kitchen units. The kitchen had a makeover a year ago and a big extension. I offered to buy Mum a new place, but she said somewhere else wouldn’t be the same because the walls wouldn’t be filled with so many memories. If you ask me, that’s reason enough to want to move, but not for her. At least she let me pay to renovate the place. When dad died, it was half home, half building site. The man was always tinkering with something.
“They’re just a little something,” Mimi replies, “just to say thank you for the invite.”
“The summons, more like,” I mutter, resisting the monkey noises I thought to make as I lift the carving knife from the chopping board. Whacking off the end of the beef joint resting on it, I tear into it with my teeth. “Mmm. ’S good,” I mouth around the tender piece.
“Honestly, you lot are like a plague of locust.” Putting the boxed bouquet on the countertop, Poll plucks the remainder of the beef between my fingers and sets it to the side. “Elvis can have that when he gets here.”
“The dog gets beef, but I don’t?”
“Yes, because he doesn’t help himself,” she says, exasperated. She turns to Mimi. “I’ve already had to hit Brin with the wooden spoon for stealing one of the Yorkshires.” She rolls her eyes as though she doesn’t secretly love that we all fall into old roles when we walk through the front door.
“Brin deserves it,” I say, eyeing the beef again. Polly slides the chopping board farther away as if that would even stop me.
Suddenly, her hand darts out and captures my chin. “What’s this?” she asks, turning my head sideways so my profile catches the light.
“An accident.” My lip is a little swollen, though nothing too bad. I think Mimi kissing it better a dozen times probably helped.
“What’s a Yorkshire?” Mimi’s gaze bounces between us.
“Yorkshire pud. Pudding,” I amend.
“Like dessert?”
Fuck, she looks like a dessert. Like a crème brulée. Sweet-scented and sugary, but deliciously decadent underneath. She makes me want to roll my tongue over every inch of her. Her pussy is the bowl of cake batter I want to lick clean.
“Yorkshire puddings are savory.” I realize Polly is trying to explain while my mind had checked into gutter town. “Though you can have them with treacle and cream, and they’re quite nice like that.” Mimi nods like she knows what Mum is talking about. “But not as good as when you have them with a roast. They’re a staple of a roast beef dinner,” Poll adds, “unless my mother made them. No one likes a soggy bottom.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Mimi blinks, almost straight-faced.
“The problem is…” Mum swipes up a teatowel and begins to vigorously rub a plate from the drainer. “You can’t rightly tell until their bottoms are exposed.”
