Grandma was thrilled by Jason’s late-night arrival. Abbie had a feeling she should be thrilled too. After all, he’d saved her from blurting more embarrassing, emotional truths at Will, whose new name should be The Human Wrecking Ball of Protective Emotional Walls. She half-suspected she’d been about to confess her aeons of overwhelming love to the man, at which point he’d either be appropriately alarmed and throw it back in her face or—
Or worse. Worse, he’d like it—she was starting to suspect he’d love it—and things would be perfect, so perfect, until she forgot how to quiet her bad thoughts again and she’d flinch away from him or lash out and he’d be horrified and everything would collapse.
Things, in Abbie’s experience, always collapsed.
So, yes. She should be grateful for Jase’s interruption. Which did not explain why, the following morning, she found herself glaring daggers at him over the breakfast table.
“I’d no idea you were coming so soon,” Grandma trilled as she dumped an extra seven thousand rashers of bacon on his plate.
“Ah, well. Abbie wanted me here.” Jase slid her a look that said Clearly you changed your mind, though? before continuing. “So I got away as soon as work allowed.”
On the other side of the table, Will snorted into his sausages. He’d already been for a morning run—followed by a series of very impressive burpees on the frosty lawn, not that Abbie had been peeking through the window or anything—so he was glowing with sweat and looked more fresh and gorgeous than hungover.
The freak.
“You do know,” Will was saying, “that you can leave work whenever you want, right? You work for yourself.”
“And I’m the world’s worst boss,” Jase twinkled.
“Oh, he’s such a good boy, aren’t you, my darling?” was Grandma’s predictable response to that tripe. She popped a kiss on Jase’s smug forehead.
Abbie stuck out her tongue. “You’re only her favourite because you went into the family business.”
“I don’t have favourites,” Grandma said, turning toward the Aga. “Oh, Jason, your extra hash brown is ready.”
“Outrageous,” Will muttered.
“Couldn’t agree more,” Abbie muttered back. Then she remembered that she was in turmoil over last night, over whether or not Will even remembered last night, and therefore shouldn’t be sharing mumbled discontent and knowing looks with him across the table.
Too late. Their eyes met, and his were like a shot of espresso: dark and delicious and dangerously invigorating. She felt a bit jittery. Shit. Abbie dragged her gaze away and found herself staring at Jase instead. Her twin was currently watching her with that infuriating smirk he got when he thought he knew something she didn’t. The dick. She stuck her tongue out at him again, then yelped at the familiar whack of a wooden spoon on her shoulder.
“Behave yourself,” Grandma said sternly.
“Yeah, Abbie,” Jase snickered. There was a thud under the table, and his smirk was replaced by a wince. “Ow.” He turned to glare at Will, who was looking pointedly in the other direction.
Abbie felt herself smile.
“So, Will,” Jase began, sitting back in his chair and adjusting the cuffs on his black silk shirt. (Jason had told her, when they were fourteen, that he intended to dress like a sexy pirate for the rest of his life, and he had taken that very seriously.) “How is it, being back home?”
Will rolled his eyes and stabbed another sausage. “Same as it always is. Colder.”
“Hm, yes, fascinating,” Jase said. “Abbie. How is it having Will back home?”
Across the kitchen, Grandma whipped around with an expression of eager delight. Which was both weird and unnerving. “Yes, Abbie, how is it?”
“Fine,” Abbie bit out.
“Really?” Jase grinned.
Abbie narrowed her eyes at her twin. Shut the fuck up.
Jase arched an eyebrow. Make me.
Abbie kept on looking. I’m serious.
Jase rolled his eyes. “I see we’re all in excellent moods this morning.”
“They’re hungover,” Grandma put in slyly, “judging by the state of my secret gin bottle. Isn’t that interesting?”
“Will is hungover,” Abbie put in. “I was sober as a church last night.”
“That was the only churchly thing about you,” Jase said with a smirk.
Now it was Abbie’s turn to kick him under the table.
After breakfast, Grandma went off to wrap presents. Will announced that he was going to shower, then looked at Abbie in a way that made her feel a bit faint and said, “We need to talk later. Okay?”
“Okay,” she breathed, momentarily brainless and legless and very, very aware of her own vagina, and also of the tight tangle of nerves in her stomach.
Will disappeared upstairs, his absence returning all the oxygen to the room, and Abbie sucked in a calming breath and got a grip. Then she headed into the family room to embroider and worry, and Jase followed her there with the express purpose of getting on her nerves.
“Nice silk stitch,” he said, peering over her shoulder at her embroidery hoop.
“Leave me,” she muttered, focusing very hard on the shell of the little turtle she was creating.
“No, thank you. Snogging Will in the garden, yeah?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’d known last night would backfire on her. It was entirely Will’s fault for being perfect and enticing and upset and so adorable when he was drunk, and for saying shit that was honest and earnest and so close to perfect it made her feel nauseous with fear.
That in itself was the problem.
Working hard to keep her voice unembarrassed, Abbie said, “Bring that up again and I will sneak into your room at night and shave your precious beard.”
“As if you’d do your own brother like that. You know I’ve got no jawline.”
“Try me.”
Jase laughed, but there was concern in his voice when he spoke again. “I thought you’d be happy. He’s into you, you’re into him, he’s already family—it’s so … tidy. You love tidy.”
Abbie dropped her hoop and glared up at her brother. “There’s nothing tidy about it, Jason. What’s going to happen when we—?”
“What?”
She sighed and shook her head.
“Oh, what the fuck. Seriously? You’re already thinking about it going south?”