‘Yeah, I bet you are now. You could’ve gotten shot of me straight away.’
He shook his head. ‘Threatening youths and panic attacks on fairground rides aside, I’ve been enjoying myself, too.’
His words slipped down, bitter and sweet as the ice-cream. It eased my guilt about the teasing, reassured me he’d actually taken it the way it was intended, but there was another problem I had to reckon with. Now I knew thereasonhe didn’t getinvolved with women, of course, I wanted nothing more than to get involved with him. But he’d never want anything serious. He’d been honest with me about that and I didn’t want to mess my head up with something temporary. I wanted someone who would be there for me, share my life and support me; otherwise, what was the point?
Chapter Thirty-One
Stephen
It was exactly the kind of house I’d imagined Elle growing up in after she spoke to me about all her siblings at the funfair. That didn’t mean I was prepared for the sight of them all together, along with their partners, her parents, and other older people who I assumed were friends or aunts and uncles. Or the level of noise. They called to each other from different locations in the house, doors constantly opened and shut, feet pounded on the stairs, competing music playing in each room and sports on the TV.
And there was laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
I’d thought Nick and I could be rowdy when we were kids, but it was nothing compared to this lot. Elle by herself actually seemed quiet in comparison. I could feel her hand tightening on my elbow like she was worried I was going to bolt.
She waved to a couple of people in the living room as we passed through quickly, but once we got to the dining room, there was a yell and she was basically abducted from my side and thrown over the shoulder of a wiry redhead who looked about Nick’s age.
‘Put me down, idiot,’ Elle complained.
‘No. Mom said to bring you straight to her when you arrived. I’m just following orders.’
‘Idiot,’ she repeated with half a laugh and punched him hard in the kidneys. Wow. Perhaps I needn’t have been so worried at the biker bar the other week with her at my side.
‘Jesus H Christ, Elle,’ he groaned and dropped her, bending awkwardly at the waist. He eyed her resentfully but then he held up his hand, palm out in invitation. ‘Sweet move though – glad to see you can still look after yourself.’
She high-fived him. ‘Of course, I can. And I’ll go straight to Mom, OK? It’s where I was heading anyhow.’
‘Uh-uh. Hang on. Who’s this?’ He pointed a finger at me.
‘This is my friend Stephen.’
‘Aboyfriendtype of friend?’
‘No. Afriendtype of friend.’
‘Are you sure? He looks just like your type A preferred brand of date.’
I raised my eyebrows and looked at her, but she crossed her arms and kept her focus on him. ‘Timothy Lyle Kingston, I will kick you in the nuts if you don’t drop it.’
He held up his hands in surrender.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I offered politely.
‘Hey, dude.’ He grinned and shook my hand but turned to Elle with a frown. ‘So, you never answered me about the blind date—’
‘I did. You just chose not to listen. And I don’t want to go over it again now.’
Without waiting for his response, she started dragging me through the house again.
‘So, that’s your brother Tim.’
‘Yeah. That’s him.’ Her voice was unnaturally bright. For some reason I didn’t feel as willing to let it drop as I had at the funfair.
‘Why won’t you let him set you up? And what exactly is your type A preferred brand of man?’
She came to a stop at the door into the kitchen, sighed and pulled me aside. ‘Listen, Stephen, you and I have sparred enough that I know you must have a similar family rapport, with the banter and the teasing. The thing is, you will hear a lot of jests about my love life here today. There will be talk of my type A and type B, and the merry band of misfits who are my exes. But if we are going to stay here and talk my dad into doing you thisfavour and remain friends, I ask that you pretend you haven’t heard it. Please?’
Her cheeks were flushed, and her fingers fluttered around straightening the strap of her dress, which required no straightening. I wanted to close my hand around hers to soothe away this uncharacteristic self-consciousness. ‘You know…there’s a fine line between banter and bullying.’
