But Cassie doesn’t need Rory to play bartender. She was watching the first time, and now she freehands her own version of the peppermint bark shot over the remaining ice in the shaker.
Rory peels off her sweater, leaving her in just a cotton tank top that’s wrinkled from her body heat and slipping off her shoulder.
I stare at her bra strap and think about sliding my finger under it and dragging her off to bed.
Maybe that shot was a bad idea.
Maybe a second shot would be a good idea.
“Maybe you should tell us what happened,” Rory says.
Right.
Cassie. We need to focus on Cassie.
Rory’s sister puffs out her cheeks. “I’m too much for him.”
Oh shit. No, I shouldn’t be here for this.
Rory goes still. “What the hell does that mean?”
Cassie waves her hands in the air. “You know. You say it too. I’m a lot.”
“Yeah, but you’ve always been a lot, and it’s…loveable.”
“Well, it’s more loveable when you’re an eager twenty-one-year-old, I guess.” Cassie’s lower lip wobbles and her eyes start to swim with tears.
“He didn’t fucking say that, did he?” I hear myself growl that out. I didn’t havetrack down my brother-in-law and wrestle him down to the ground for being an assholeon my Christmas bingo card, but we’ll do what we need to do.
She shakes her head. “Not exactly. But he always used to say I was his wild girl or his…” She hiccups. “His feral monster.”
“You’re hardly feral,” Rory mutters. “That’s more Jules territory.”
I stretch my leg under the table and nudge her chair.
She swings her head my way, her eyes slow to focus on my face. “What? Why’d you nudge me?”
I cover my face as my shoulders shake with laughter.
“What???” Rory sounds so confused. Adorably, drunkenly confused.
“He doesn’t mean feral like Jules,” I mumble from behind my hands. “Not like a selfish little goblin. More…uninhibited.”
Rory’s mouth falls open. “Oh.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh. Is this about s-e-x?”
Cassie makes a face. “Don’t be immature.”
“I’m notimmatureabout sex. I’m just seekingclarityand trying to do itdelicately.”
I push to my feet. “This conversation might be easier if I’m not here. I’m going to take a shower.”
And because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend, I go around the table and squeeze Rory’s tense shoulder. A pretence of saying goodnight, but really trying to convey to her that she was never too much, no matter what she thinks.
But because I’m no longer her boyfriend, it doesn’t help.
I’m just pulling a t-shirt over my damp-from-the-shower hair when Rory tumbles into the room we’re sharing tonight.
“Oops,” she says, her gaze snagging on my bare abdomen before I smooth the cotton over it. “Sorry.”
