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The maids offered to help, but I don’t need a word -for-word recitation of what I owe to my overly protective grandmother, who is coming back tomorrow morning. The weather is still cold since it is early January, but the inside of the house is warm enough for me to walk around in tiny shorts and a shirt that I stole from my father’s wardrobe. It’s ten sizes too big for me, making me roll back the sleeves to my elbows.
But I haven’t seen him in a few months since he and my mother decided to travel across Europe for the winter, and I kind of miss him.
The sound of footsteps have me looking up to see my brother’s best friend walk in. Tall, and slightly tan, Ian’s red hair, which he swears he has never dyed, is tied at his nape in a tiny ponytail: his trademark look.
My eyes roam deliberately over the gray waistcoat that reveals his trim figure, giving away his workout regime in a glance. I know for a fact that under that waistcoat and white shirt lays a mouth-watering body that I will probably never get the chance to taste.
When I wolf-whistle, he grins at me. “Don’t you look prim and proper.”
I give him a short twirl, “It’s a new style I’m trying out.”
When he scoffs, I sit on the arm of a chair. “You’re early. I was expecting you to be at least an hour late.”
Ian tosses his jacket and coat on the table and picks up my slice of half-finished pizza and bites into it. “I got a new assistant.”
A flare of jealousy makes me blink and I ask, “She hot?”
He chews and swallows. “It’s a ‘he.’ Very organized and very detail oriented. I don’t think I’ll be putting in much overtime now.”
I watch him polish off the remainder of my dinner, my eyes watching him with a hunger that I have to hide.
I don’t know when I started developing feelings for Ian. It has been at least a few years now. But to him, I will always be a friend and Philip’s sister.
I know he will never look at me in the way I so desperately wish. He cares about me. I am very important to him. But he’s never hinted at having more than brotherly feelings for me.
One of our friends, Fergus, suspects that there is something going on between us. We all grew up together. Well, Philip grew up with Ian, Fergus, and Zayn. They all met at the boarding school they attended in their
preteens. I was just Philip’s sister who followed them around every time they came here for break.
I let out a small sigh and turn away from Ian, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to get my feelings under control.
Fergus is wrong.
There is nothing going on between Ian and me.
For some reason, our friendship is a very physical one. He will hug me, lean on me, let me feed him, put his head on my lap. It’s things like this that make my yearning worsen, but I don’t have it in me to stop these small actions.
I don’t realize he is talking ‘til I turn back around.
“You okay?” he asks, a hint of concern showing. I shrug.
“It’s been a long day, and I want to haul these boxes back home before Grams guilts me into staying.”
Ian starts on putting a pile of my books into one of the empty boxes. “I still don’t get why you decided to move back to the estate. I thought our living arrangement was fine.”
I throw him a dirty look. “I refuse to go jogging with you at the break of dawn. You’re a lunatic.”
He stares at me. “I don’t know how you maintain that figure of yours. You are the least athletically inclined person there is.”
I flip him the bird.
“It’s called portion control. That, and genetics.” I start taping shut one of the boxes, the one that contains my glassware. “And just so you know, I do have a trainer. Raoul makes me cry three times a week.”
Ian looks up at me, his hands freezing. “I didn’t know you had a trainer.”
I waggle my brows at him. “He’s gorgeous and sculpted like a Greek statue. You should see the women drooling over him.”
Ian gives me a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. “And you’re one of them?”
