“Ditto.” It’s all I can manage. I’ve never been happier to be in a club as I am right now. Obviously, because Whit’s here, but also because of the low lighting, he can’t tell I’ve gone beet red. And my cheeks aren’t the only part of my body that’s heated. And I’m not sure my parents’ assumptions were wrong because my heart feels like it might burst from my rib cage at any moment.
“Really?”
I turn my attention to Heather’s distasteful expression, then remember what we were talking about.Crocs.“Jody said it was because of pregnancy cankles. She left a pair of them under her desk.”
“I hope you sprinkled them in salt and burned them.” She glances down at her own shoes. They’re red and sparkly with spiked heels. “It’s enough to put you off ever experiencing the blessed state,” she adds, twisting one foot this way, then that admiringly.
Kids? Not touching that. “Your shoes are so pretty.”
“Thank you. They are lovely, aren’t they?” Heather smiles down at her feet. “My husband bought them for me. I call them my Dorothy Gale slippers.” She clicks her heels together. “Because there really is no place like home.” I don’t miss the look she and Whit exchange. “I’m not here to dance, really.” Mischief dances in her gaze as Heather glances my way. “I’m here to make sure El is treating you properly.”
“Properly?” I sound pretty amused.
“To make sure he’s not trying to get into your knickers.”
“What?” I press a hand to my mouth to suppress a giggle.
“Panties?” She scrunches her nose and gives her head a quick shake. “I prefer knickers. I think the word sounds a bit more regal, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never really…”
“Anyway, I’m here to keep an eye on him.” She dips her head El’s way. “Polly sanctioned. If this were a regency romance, El would be the family rake.”
“A what?” El demands.
“The cad—the bounder.”
“Oi!” El protests indignantly. “I’m not. At least, I’m no worse than Brin.”
“That doesn’t exactly recommend either of you.”
“What about the dark horse over there?” El asks unhappily, nodding to the eldest of the Whittington brood.
“What about him?” she asks sweetly.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t have any beef with old golden balls.”
“Old and golden.” Whit glances Heather’s way. “Should I be worried about his fixation with my nutsack?”
Heather barks out a laugh, and El drags his unhappy gaze her way again. “It didn’t stop you from marrying Archer.”
“Archer’s reputation was overstated,” she answers tartly. “He’s a reformed character. A happily married man.”
“I can’t see how, considering he married you.”
Heather slides me a look that speaks volumes. Kind of,see what I’ve saved you from?
“I was being perfectly well-behaved,” El protests. “I’ve treated Mimi like a sister all night.”
Well…
“That’s quite a broad scope of works,” Heather murmurs, sliding her hand over a wrinkle in her own little black dress. “In my experience, that could mean anything from a noogie to emotional blackmail.” She turns my way. “He hasn’t tried to fart on your head, has he?”
“Heather,” El moans, aggrieved.
Meanwhile, I snort-laugh as I shake my head. Too late, I press my hand to my mouth as though to cover the horrible sound.
“Oh, good. A normal one,” Heather announces happily.
