“What on earth are you talking about, Gigi?” she asked, and he practically fainted with relief at the sight of her. Because Jacob knew exactly how he would behave if any other group of posh, smoking arseholes appeared at his B&B and started looking around like he had something to hide, asking rude questions and generally making nuisances of themselves; he would shout a bit and curse a bit and throw them out on their arses.
But this was Eve’s family, and she cared about her family, and it seemed painfully clear that they cared about her. She’d ended up here because she was ashamed of disappointing them. They mattered. And he loved her. Which meant that Jacob was caught between his general—and growing—irritation, and the desire to be, well . . . not hated. Which wasn’t a place he’d often found himself, since entering adulthood.
He didn’t fucking like it.
But he’d stay here awhile longer, for her.
“And what are you all doing here?” Eve demanded, coming in and closing the door behind her. “Better yet, how are you here? I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”
Her entrance seemed to spark energy into the room. Everyone rose to their feet, with the exception of Gigi, who was busy lounging around and smoking, and her darling Shivani, who was busy sighing and rolling her eyes. And also seemed to have secured a steaming flask of tea from somewhere. At least one of Eve’s relatives was sensible.
“Well,” said one of the sisters—Chloe, if he’d followed Gigi’s vague points correctly. “Do you remember, Evie-Bean, when you and I drove to the ballet in Birmingham, but we got lost and Danika came to get us? You turned your location on, so she could find us. And, well, none of us ever thought to turn it off.”
Eve opened and closed her mouth like a fish before blurting, “You stalked me?”
“She had to.” That was Eve’s mother, Joy, who was looking vaguely tortured and wringing her hands. “Your father and I know we were harsh, before. But you vanished into thin air and refused to tell anyone where you were.”
“So you decided to turn up here and—and heresy me?” Eve demanded.
“I think you mean harass, darling,” interjected the other sister, Danika. “And no, that isn’t why we’re here. Not entirely. We were going to leave you to it, but then Chloe and I got slightly . . . worried.”
“Worried? Why?”
There was a pause, and a few more wary looks in his direction, before Chloe spoke. “At first, every time we called or texted you’d tell us about this awful new job and how horrible your boss was.”
Jacob tried not to wince. She’d said at first, after all, and he supposed he deserved that.
“Then, all of a sudden, you were never free to talk because you and your boss were terribly busy,” Chloe went on awkwardly. “With all sorts of . . . after-hours meetings, and then last night you sent us a, erm, voice note.”
“What voice note?” Eve asked, her face a picture of confusion. But he saw the moment she realized what they were talking about. Jacob remembered it, too.
Eve had been sitting in her room, talking to her phone, and he’d come in demanding to know what she was doing. And then he’d dragged her off to his room.
Ah, shit.
“We thought you might be in some sort of sex cult,” Danika said baldly. “Those happen, you know.”
“A sex cult?” Eve squeaked. “At a bed-and-breakfast?”
“Well,” Gigi piped up, “clearly their worries were unfounded, because it looks as though there’s only you and Jacob, and sex cults typically require multiple members. Unless that strapping young man from outside is also involved, in which case, bravo.”
“Mother,” sighed Eve’s dad in weary tones.
“What, Martin? I’m not taking this lightly, you understand. I’m simply examining the facts.”
Joy spoke sharply over everyone. “The point is, we had no idea what was going on, so we’re here to check on your well-being. That’s all. We had intended to give you space, wait for you to come home next week—”
“Next week?” Jacob interjected. He hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but—well, that was wrong. Pretty much everything said in the last ten minutes had been wrong, but also understandable. This statement, however, stuck out like a sore thumb. Eve couldn’t have been planning to visit home next week, because next weekend was the Gingerbread Festival.
“Or was it the week after?” Joy waved her hand. “I don’t know. Whenever you were coming back to begin the event-planning job. But you know you have a tendency to pick up, erm, less than suitable men, darling, so we thought we’d better nip up here just to check nothing was getting out of hand.”
Event-planning job. Jacob supposed he should be focusing more on the fact that Eve’s mother had just called him less than suitable—or had she simply insulted Eve’s general life choices? One of those. And usually, he’d be incredibly pissed by either option. But his brain was a little stuck on the phrase event-planning job, trying and failing to absorb it, to move past it, to make it make sense.
He looked at Eve, waiting for her to clear things up. Instead, she avoided his gaze and told her mother, “Jacob isn’t unsuitable, Mum. He’s exceedingly—good. And very—accomplished. And far cleverer than—” She spluttered awkwardly. “Oh, never mind. The event planning begins after next weekend.”
“The what?” Jacob asked, his voice harder than he intended. Couldn’t help it. He felt suddenly twisted and prickly, and—awkward and foolish and caught unawares. All the things he most hated to be.
Because apparently, Eve was leaving, and he was the only person in this room who didn’t know about it.
Eve’s dad, Martin, glared at Jacob with surprising force. “Do you know, son, I’m not sure how this conversation is any of your business.”
Jacob stood up straighter, feeling himself ice over. “I’m Eve’s employer. Her whereabouts during our busiest season are certainly my business.”
“Well,” Martin shot back, “our Eve has a lucrative opportunity in event planning beginning in September, so perhaps you won’t be her employer for much longer.”
Those words plunged Jacob into ice water. He ground his teeth practically to dust, trying to hold on to the leftovers of the day’s happiness—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Because all of a sudden, he was uncertain, he was an outsider in his own safe haven, and the woman who should be with him—the woman who should always be with him—was planning to leave. Had been planning to leave all along, he realized. When he turned to look at her, the guilt was written all over her face. Her brows were drawn tight together, her eyes huge and shimmering, her teeth sinking into her lip. He wanted to go over there and put his arms around her, to comfort her.
He wanted her arms around him. He was so cold. She was so warm. She’d fix it.
Except right now, she was the problem. She was the one who’d made him a fucking fool.
“Jacob,” she said cautiously, “after I interviewed here, I agreed to plan a party for an old friend.”
“Plan a party?” Joy repeated. “Don’t downplay your achievement, darling. Your father and I were beyond impressed when Mrs. Lennox let us know you’d be planning Freddy’s twenty-first. She had me on the phone for half an hour yesterday morning alone. You’ve done very well.”