Reid barked, "Is that my sweatshirt?"
She pressed the ball of her hand into the center of her forehead. It didn't relieve the pressure there, but it made her feel slightly more sane.
"It wasn't like that," she hissed at Michael. "He was ill. He slept on the sofa. I slept in my bedroom." She ignored Reid's statement and turned to Valentin, who remained frozen only a step out of the hallway. "Valentin, these two cretins are my younger brothers. Michael and Reid."
Her introduction seemed to galvanize Valentin, and he crossed the room to shake their hands.
From behind the prince's back, she gave both brothers the stink eye. They knew how to behave. She'd witnessed it before.
The question was whether they would.
"How do you know my sister?" Reid asked with the same suspicion he'd used when asking about the shirt.
"I'm working for him," she said at the same time Valentin said, "We're friends."
And then Valentin was meeting her gaze, his expression frank and more open than she'd ever seen it. "Friends."
Her heart thumped, hard, as she held his stare. After last night, she knew what it cost him to say that.
I've got a heart of stone, haven't you heard?
"Friends," she whispered. She finally broke the stare and realized both her brothers were watching them with wide, curious eyes.
Reid broke the silence first. "Uhh. You're burning the eggs."
She smacked her brother on the arm. "I haven't started the eggs." She moved around them, around the edge of the bar and back into the kitchen proper. "Valentin, I'm sorry. My brothers and I have a standing Saturday morning breakfast. I tried kicking them out, but—"
"We're bigger than she is." Michael grinned.
That. And she hadn't tried very hard. She loved her brothers, and this was usually her only chance to see them during the week thanks to busy university schedules and her own crazy job.
Valentin padded into the kitchen behind her. He was barefoot. The crown prince of Glorvaird was barefoot in her kitchen.
Eggs. She tried to get herself back on track, but it was hard while he was so close. Her kitchen would never be described as "roomy," and having him in it made it feel downright cramped.
"I was promised coffee," he said.
"Yes. Coffee." The pot had finished percolating. She used her chin to point to the upper cabinet where she kept the mugs. "Milk's in the fridge."
"Shouldn't you pour it for him?" Michael asked with a cheeky grin. If she blinked, she could still see the ten-year-old boy he'd been sitting with legs swinging off the barstool.
"If you really work for him..." Reid said, suspicion still dripping from his voice.
"Not that kind of work." Valentin appeared completely unruffled, but she could sense the fine tension in the tightness around the edges of his smile. "Your sister is working on my love life."
Her brothers broke out into hoots and laughter.
She shifted from pouring pancake batter onto the griddle to cracking eggs into a bowl. She pretended each one was either Reid's or Michael's head and took particular satisfaction from cracking them open. "Watch it," she said. "Unless you want some arsenic with your scrambled eggs."
Valentin sent her a puzzled look.
"They're picturing me all dolled up and on your arm at a state function," she told him, “which they apparently find hilarious.”
He frowned.
"Crystal is most comfortable in sweats and a T-shirt," Michael said. "She's not exactly in the same category as the women you're used to dating."
She was whisking the eggs with vicious wrist action when Valentin moved in next to her, nudging her with his elbow as he reached for a spatula.
