They smiled at each other, and she noticed Toby had a freckle beside his left eye. It was so cute, so boyish, and she felt that crying sensation again. She looked away, linking her fingers and stretching her arms above her head.
“Fuck,” Toby said mildly. “It’s half-three in the morning. Hope the cops don’t pull me over and mistake roleplay whiskey for actual whiskey.”
Tabby couldn’t help herself. “Do you… want to stay the night?”
There was a beat as both of them looked at the window Toby had come through as if it might stop him.
“I… yeah… Do you want me to?”
Tabby opened her mouth and found she couldn’t say anything more. Even after all the time they’d spent at Toby’s house, it still felt more like a sound stage than a home. A set on which he was temporarily acting. But this was her room. Her house. Silver Daughters Ink. The realest, safest place in the world.
Stay, she thought.Tell me you want to stay here?
“Next time,” Toby said, heaving himself to his feet. “See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.”
She watched him stoop for his t-shirt and hated herself a little. It could have been nice waking up in Toby’s arms. Sneaking out to get them both cups of coffee and biscuits. Whispering to each other in the dark…
Instead, she watched him scramble out her open window like a burglar. And because she was a moron, it was only when he slowly slid the pane into place she called him back.
“Toby! Why don’t you just stay?”
But of course, he didn’t hear her, and she was left sitting alone in the wet spot. At that moment, she understood: She was totally fucking dick-struck. If Toby ended things… God knew what she’d do. There wasn’t a place in the world she could go to feel better. The thought drove her to her feet and toward the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Anything not to be alone with the truth.
Halfway down the hall, she froze, sniffing the air. Unless she was having a stroke or going utterly bananas, someone was making toast… and with a rush of anxiety, she knew exactly who that was.
“Hey,” Noah called. “Tabs?”
Her stomach cramped.Oh fuck. Oh, Christ above.
“Hiiiiiiii,” she called back like an absolute idiot, before remembering she was utterly naked beneath a sex negligee. “Hang on!”
She dove back into her room, pulling on sweatpants and her boar t-shirt like that might erase whatever sex noises had been pouring out of her room like the world’s most inappropriate PA announcements. Gritting her teeth, she walked to the kitchen to find Noah, huge and tatted to the hilt, eating Vegemite toast at the table.
The look he gave her said yes, he had heard the fucking, and no, he wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t.
“Whatcha doing?” Tabby said weakly.
“Early client. Crashing in Nikki’s room.” Her brother-in-law tilted his head at the hallway. “You have someone over?”
There seemed little sense in denying it. “Yup.”
Noah’s nostrils flared. “What did he do? Climb in through the window?”
“Pretty much.”
His green eyes scanned her like the Terminator, and Tabby resisted the urge to throw her hands over her chest. Her nipples were still hard as stones, and she’d stupidly forgotten to put on a bra. But that turned out to be the least of her worries.
“Bruises,” Noah growled.
“What?”
“You got bruises all over you. You start cage fighting or something?”
She looked down. The purple blotches weren’t super obvious against all her ink, but Noah had grown up around tattoos and bruises, and apparently, he still knew the difference.
“It’s all good,” she said. “It’s for fun.”
