I dot his nose with the whipped cream–topped whisk, then, with a squeal, hop down and run for it.
“Just head right for the bedroom,” he calls from behind me. “We’re going to be a while.”
Giddy and laughing, I race that way, August hot on my heels. His deep laughter vibrates along my skin. I feel his breath on my neck, the nip of his fingers at my waist. But he doesn’t catch me. No, he’s herding me along, moving us exactly where we want to be.
Our route takes us right by the front hall. It’s a surprise, however, when the doorbell rings. My steps falter.
“Ignore it,” August says at my back. He’s got me now, swinging me up into his arms to kiss me swift and deep. The bell rings again.
“It’s Jan’s house,” I say against his lips. “We can’t leave it.”
“Jan isn’t even here,” he grumps.
But I’ve already slipped free, my sense of politeness prompting me to answer. In retrospect, the ringing bell should have been our first hint of disaster. After all, as with our houses, there’s a nice big gate to keep strangers out of January’s as well. It stands to reason that whoever is ringing the actual doorbell at the very least has the code to get through the first barrier.
None of this occurs to me. And the very last thing I expect is to see my mother and his standing on the stoop and wearing twin expressions of impatience.
August comes skidding up behind me, his hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me back against his chest, then sliding under my shirt to palm my belly.
“Wait for me,” he chides with a laugh, burrowing his face in my hair. “God, you’re slippery.” He suddenly catches sight of our parents and freezes.
“August,” Margo says. “Penelope.”
“Babies!” my mother exclaims happily.
With a dramatic shudder, August looks around at the air above him as though searching for something. He notices us staring and gives himself a little shake. “Sorry, I could have sworn I heard thePsychomusic playing just now.”
Biting my lip, I turn my head to avoid meeting anyone’s eye.
Margo’s droll voice is unmistakable. “You see what I deal with, Anne? I raised five kids, and every one of them a smart-ass.”
My mom shakes her head in sympathy.
August, however, decides to poke the bear and places a hand over his heart with a wounded expression. “But, Ma, it’s what you told us to do!”
“Oh,Itold you?”
He gives her an angelic smile. “You were always saying, don’t be a dumbass. Ergo it stands to reason...” Smile growing, he spreads his arms as if to say,and here we are.
There’s a small beat, one in which I fear for August’s life, but then Margo barks out a laugh, and shakes her head. “And every one of you got your father’s charm. Damn it.”
She steps in, and August ducks his head to give her cheek a kiss. “But I got the most, didn’t I, Ma?”
“Sure, honey.” She pulls him close and gives him a long hug before mussing his head. “Smart-ass.”
“Just like you taught me.”
“Hmm. You have whipped cream on the tip of your nose.”
I have the pleasure of seeing August blush bright red.
“Oh, dear,” Mom murmurs. The wicked gleam in her eyes tells me she’s enjoying the hell out of it.
August grimaces, and I burst out laughing. He gives me a look that promises creative payback, and in return, I grin with glee. That is until my mother’s droll tone breaks through my high humor with all the dryness of desert sand.
“Your blouse is unbuttoned, Penny Lane.”
Shit.
