“Your mother gave me some mince pies, if you recall.” If not for Connie, I would starve. I kept telling myself to hire a housekeeper to come in more often than once a week. Except I lived an unconventional lifestyle, and I didn’t wish for prying eyes. Once I married, that would no longer be the case. I would walk the straight and narrow path of normalcy. My shoulders drooped simply thinking about it.
Birdie went to the icebox and pulled out the wrapped package I had haphazardly shoved inside. I’d had more important things to do at the time. Admiring the curve of her bottom in my robe reminded me of said things. She placed the pies on the small table that sat in the corner, a bowl of apples centered on the scarred surface. While the interior of the building and all the plumbing was new, I kept certain pieces for sentimental reasons, the table being one of them. “Should I use these plates?” she asked, referring the ones on top of the squat icebox.
“Yes, that will be fine.” I shifted my gaze to Ash, who had resumed his seat at the desk, but he wasn’t writing.
He stared at me with a smug smile. “We don’t usually use plates. Just napkins.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s not true.”
“When in Rome.” Amusement lit Birdie’s eyes as she slipped into one of the dining chairs. Lifting a golden pastry, she took a bite, euphoria enhancing her expressive face.
“You should put something on,” Ash said, his heated gaze raking down my chest. “If I can’t walk around the way God intended, then you can’t either.”
“I should.” I stepped into my room and rushed into the wardrobe, unsure why I was hurrying. Well, I did know. I didn’t wish to miss out on anything. Outside of Ash’s family, I led a solitary life. Partly by choice, and partly by necessity. Having two people I enjoyed in my house was a rare occurrence. Would Mrs. Engel be an equally engaging companion?
I pushed my legs into my trousers and snatched my shirt from the floor. A second spent apart was a second too long.
Ash had refilled our glasses and was sitting next to Birdie. She laughed at something he said, her hair in disarray, and several long strands ran down the back of my brocade navy robe. She looked rather fetching in the piece and I would forever think of her when I wore it.
I sat down across from Ash and to her left.
Drink in hand, he stared at me. “I neglected to ask. How was your bath?”
Since Birdie had just taken a bite, I assumed he was speaking to me. I darted my gaze to her. The blush she wore deepened in hue. “Stop being a prat. You’re embarrassing Birdie.”
His smile dimmed and he clasped her free hand. “I am sorry. I am simply harassing Moran. It is how we talk. My mother says we are unusually cruel to each other. As you witnessed, that isn’t necessarily true.”
She swallowed her bite and took a sip of her wine. “I realize that and I am very entertained by it. I am also very hungry, so forgive me if I don’t participate in the conversation.”
“Fair enough.” Ash fisted an apple. “Do you have a knife? We must keep Birdie fed. She will need all of her energy for things to come.”
I got up and grabbed a paring knife. A stack of napkins was at the end of the table and I began to cut the apple, laying the slices on the cloth. My own stomach rumbled and I bit into the apple, the sweetness coating my tongue. “You should take your own advice.”
The mantel clock chimed the hour, reminding me of the lateness. While sleep beckoned, I didn’t want the night to end. Another look outside showed the snow still falling. The tension in my belly relaxed and I ate another bite of apple.
Ash began to regale us with the plot of the story he was writing. Birdie laughed at his impression of her in the doorway, the book a comedy of errors. He wasn’t deviating far from the truth.
Sitting with the two of them, contentment washed over me. I would fall asleep with both of them in my bed and wake up to them beside me. We would have tomorrow as well, or at least the morning. Once the roads cleared, our tryst would end and I would go back to courting Mrs. Engel.
Until then, I would bask in the moment with two of my favorite people.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Right Honorable Bernice Natham
