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She giggles as my hands palm her ass. Angie’s giggle is the most glorious sound in the world. When she giggles, she sounds so young and relaxed and carefree. Every time I hear it, I want to crack jokes, so she keeps giggling.
As we get closer to the Manor, the sound of crunching of tires on gravel fills the air.
“It sounds like they’re all arriving.” Angie drops my hand as she pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket to check the time. “Right on schedule.”
“Vacations don’t have schedules,” I remind her. She offers me a wicked grin, which has my cock twitching.
“I’mworking.”
I remember our incredible night in Oxford, and offer her a low growl, which has her giggling again. She technically is working right now. So, reluctantly, I peel off, heading for the mudroom to get changed while Angie beelines around the Manor to the drive, no doubt to help welcome everyone and getting everyone settled in.
David is coming out of his bedroom as I’m exiting mine and he waggles his eyebrows. “Showtime.”
I snort, rolling my eyes and following him down the stairs to the main drawing room.
Sure enough, Angie leads all six of them into the room and melts out, probably to organize their luggage being delivered to their rooms and unpacked. Mom hurries over, folding David and I into tight hugs as Dad ambles over to clap us on the back and shake our hands.
The twins are on the other side of the room, greeting Uncle Harold and Aunt Sharon, who are studiously avoiding Mom and Dad’s gazes, and Ryan is in the middle, chatting with Uncle Gordon and Aunt Kelly. Talk about awkward. I think this might be the first time that they’re all in the same room in over three years.
Mom and Dad chat about the vacation so far, and ask David about Robyn. David winces, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “She didn’t make it past the first night.”
Ouch. That had to suck to admit to our parents. Dad chuckles, catching himself as Mom at leasttriesto sound empathetic, though she doesn’t really succeed.
“Oh no. Did she have a problem with the Manor?”
David smirks at them, aware they didn’t like Robyn. Hell,hedidn’t particularly like Robyn. The way he bitched about her.
“She struggled to fit in. It was best she left.”
This excruciating conversation is saved when Uncle Bill finally makes his appearance, accompanied by Angie. She’s wearing one of her pretty, floaty dresses. She looks stunning with her hair pulled back into a bun and dangly silver earrings. She always wears either dangly silver earrings or little stud ones. I should buy her some. Something to remember me by.
For whatever reason, that idea has my heart clenching painfully in my chest. Before I’m able to ponder the feeling, Angie is arranging for champagne to be handed around and for Uncle Bill to propose a toast.
“To having my whole family together again. Happy Christmas!”
Ohh. Theagainbit sounds rather pointed, and both Dad and Uncle Harold shift uncomfortably where they stand. My hand twitches as Angie moves past me, but I flex my fingers, shoving it safely into my pocket. Besides, she doesn’t stop to chat.
No, Angie is flitting around, making sure no one’s drink is ever empty. So, this is what “working Angie” looks like. There’s no time for measured looks, or stolen touches. She’s detached and professional and I’m getting hot under the collar watching her.
I still have no ideawhyprofessional Angie revs my engine like she does, but I’m contemplating sneaking away with her before dinner when Uncle Bill joins the four of us. He asks Dad about how the law firm is going when Mom’s voice rings out.
“Angie.” She beckons imperiously, and Angie pauses where she’s refilling Aunt Kelly’s glass, turning to our group. I clench my fist in my pocket and grind my jaw as Angie puts down the bottle and makes her way over. There’s something in Mom’s tone that is rubbing me the wrong way.
“I’m feeling chilled. Fetch my faux fur stole from my room.”
“Of course, Mrs. Brooks Westerhaven,” Angie murmurs, turning and leaving the room quickly. Shit. That felt wrong. Very wrong.
“Excuse me,” I grit out, shoving my drink at no one in particular. Uncle Bill’s hand shoots out to grab it as I turn and hurry after Angie out of the room. Fuck, I didnotlike hearing my mother order Angie around like that. She didn’t even sayplease.
I catch Angie on the stairs, grabbing her hand as she starts with surprise when she realizes it’s me. “Sorry, Tim, I have to grab your mother’s stole. Can it wait?”
Fuck that. No, it can’t.
“No.” I slam my mouth down on hers as I back her up against the wall at the top of the stairs. Angie moans into my mouth, her hands gripping the lapels of my jacket. That’s more like it.
Gently guiding her until she’s sitting on the stairs, I kiss my way down Angie’s neck, sliding my hands up underneath her floaty skirt. They skim over her silk stockings until they hit bare flesh. Shit. Is she wearing a garter belt? I duck my head underneath her skirt to investigate, and Angie gasps, trying to tug at my shoulders.
“Tim, someone will see,” she moans. I grin against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, where I’m currently swirling my tongue. She is wearing a cream lace garter belt. It matches her cream lace panties, which I’m going to have my mouth around soon.
