“Come in! It’s open!”
“One of you get that,” Janette said.
With a put-upon sigh, Jack left the card game and slouched into the hall. “It’s for Grace,” he said, returning a moment later.
“Well, don’t leave whoever it is standing there. Invite them in.”
A figure materialized behind him. A lanky, red-haired boy. My mouth soured as I recognized him.
“Well, look at that,” Fiadh drawled. “It’s Danny Doyle.”
I reached for my wineglass, rinsing the flat taste from my mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sam asked.
Janette’s eyes narrowed. “Language.”
Danny’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Happy Christmas, Mrs.Clery. From my mother.” He handed her a box of chocolates. “And this is for you.” He offered a smaller box to Grace.
She took it, turning a pretty pink.
Danny’s gaze met mine. His blush rivaled Grace’s before he jerked his head in acknowledgment and looked away.
“Get the boy some pudding,” one of the aunts—Ruby? Eileen?—said.
“We’re out of forks,” Fiadh said.
Grace took a step toward the kitchen. “I’ll wash some up.”
“I can help,” Danny said eagerly.
“You stay where I can see you,” Sam said.
Janette rolled her eyes and rose from her chair. The baby started to cry.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
I could hear Reeti scolding in my head. “Dee, you don’t have to be useful to be liked.” But I could use a minute of quiet to clear my head. I loved Sam’s family, but they were—just a bit—overwhelming. Also, Sam’s mom had spent all day cooking dinner. She shouldn’t have to do dishes, too.
I pushed up my sleeves. The kitchen was a disaster, half-empty glasses and dirty plates abandoned on the counters, containers of food everywhere. No dishwasher. I dunked a handful of flatware in the sink.
“Mam said to give you a hand.”
My heart skittered pleasantly. I smiled over my shoulder at Sam, leaning against the doorjamb, his hair tied back like an eighteenth-century poet’s. “It’s not necessary.”
“You don’t know my mother.” He uncurled from the doorway, coming up behind me.
Another skitter, indefinably less pleasant, like the brush of an insect on the back of my neck.
“She wouldn’t want me to leave you alone,” Sam murmured close to my ear.
I tensed.Gray’s hand on my hip as I stood at the sink. His thumb, exploring under my sweater.
My throat was suddenly tight. I cleared it. “Fine. You can dry.”
One heartbeat, two, before Sam moved away, reaching for a dish towel.
My shoulders lowered from around my ears. What was the matter with me? Imissedhaving warmth at my back. I wanted the connection I’d felt the other night.
