“American,” Dora sniffed. She turned to Corbin. “Don’t let her steal any of the silverware.”
“Thank you, Dora. That will be all.”
Dora bustled away, unable to resist another loud sigh as she stomped into the house.
I gave Corbin a sickening smile. “Well, she’sadorable.”
“She’s as old as this castle, and twice as formidable. But she’s not so bad once you get to know her.” Corbin stood up. “I’d better go get Emily.”
As soon as he left, Flynn let out a whoop. “Grumpy Guts has gone, let’s get this party started.”
“Um…”
I was beginning to learn that life was never boring with Flynn around. Before I knew it, he pulled a portable speaker from somewhere and plugged in his phone. A minute later, weird humping bass noises shook the table.
I dropped my fork and stared at Flynn in horror.
“I’m sorry, this ismusic?”
“This album just dropped this morning. It’s this wicked drum and bass out of Dublin.”
“Can you stick it back in?”
Rowan snorted. I noticed he was placing each little muffin square on his tongue one at a time. I wondered how he handled the irregularity of scrambled eggs, but then I noticed he wasn’t eating any.That sucks, the eggs are delicious.
“Come on, Flynn,” Arthur growled. “Turn that shite off.”
“Arthur only likes brutal Scandinavian death metal,” Flynn shot back, turning the sickening noise up another notch and getting to his feet to dance around the table.
“It’sblackmetal, actually,” Arthur shouted over the din, thumbing the intelligible logo on his black t-shirt. “And that’s notallI like. I’m also into folk metal, thrash metal, symphonic metal, doom metal?—”
Flynn wrinkled his nose. “Forgive me for not recognizing the diversity in your musical interests.”
“At least metal doesn’t sound like the speaker is throwing up?—”
“Guys!”
We whirled around. Corbin stood on the edge of the deck. Beside him, a blonde bombshell wearing the tiniest pencil skirt known to humankind shot all my boys (and I was already thinking of them asmyboys) a sultry smile.
“Emily!” Flynn dropped his speaker and rushed over to give the woman one of his customary hugs. Arthur took the opportunity to unplug the phone from the speaker, a feat for which I was eternally grateful.
My gratefulness wore off when Arthur too rose and embraced this woman. Her tiny, perfect breasts pressed against his chest. The hug lasted a few seconds longer than I expected, and jealousy flared in my chest as I wondered if they’d had some thing together.
A shag.I reminded myself of the British term.I wonder if they’ve shagged.
“Maeve, I’d like you to meet Emily, our family lawyer.” Corbin brought her over to the table, his eyes flashing with delight. “And your lawyer now, too.”
“Nice to meet you,” I plastered a smile on my face. Somehow, when I imagined the person who wrote me that letter about Briarwood House, I’d pictured a middle aged, slightly round matron with a grizzled face from too many years fighting against the glass ceiling – not this graceful creature, the perfect example of feminine beauty.
Next to her, I was a frump. It wasn’t me being self-deprecating – it was simply a fact. And that fact usually didn’t bother me, but being around these guys was making mecrazy.
Emily thrust out her hand to me. “Maeve, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve brought along all the papers for you to sign to officially hand Briarwood’s ownership over to you. It’s funny, but I always pictured you as a blonde. You can never tell with names in letters, can you?”
Her greeting tugged at me, a weird annoying feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But I didn’t have time to ponder it further, not while Ms-Perfect-Tits was waiting for a reply. I extended my hand and shook hers, forcing myself not to wince at her aggressive handshake.
“Come and join us for breakfast,” I heard myself saying, plastering a fake smile on my face. “We probably have a lot to discuss about my mother’s estate.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Emily beamed, and slid herself into the empty chair beside Rowan. She touched his arm in a familiar way that made my skin crawl. “It’s been an age since I had Rowan’s home cooking. I’m hopeless in the kitchen, too busy at work. Ooh, is that the HP sauce? Arthur, you naughty boy, you know it’s my weakness. All right, send it this way.”
