“Well, look at you two lovebirds!”
At the sound of Polly’s voice, I jump. Though I don’t get very far as Raif’s hands tighten on my hips.
“No, we weren’t!” Internally, I’m squirming. I feel like a teenager who just got caught making out.
“Weren’t what?” The expression she’s wearing makes my cheeks heat.
“Nothing.” Then I physically squirm. “Quit manhandling the merchandise. Raif bear,” I tag on belatedly.
A frown flickers before he adopts an air of comic innocence, turning to face Polly. “I was just admiring your tree house,” he says without even a wriggle of discomfort.
“Were you now?” Like a dog with a bone, Polly’s not giving up on her I-know-exactly-what-you-were-up-to expression as she steps farther into the room. “I’m surprised you didn’t go outside to”—she clears her throat a little—“examine it closer. I can’t imagine being rumbled by your mother-in-law is much fun.”
“We weren’t doing anything,” I grumble.
At the same time, Raif offers up, “You know how it is.”
“Oh, I remember.”
“Ew! Unnecessary!” Because I know what’s coming next.
“While Lavender doesn’t remember—”
“Blessedly.”
“The older boys and Heather caught her father and me many a time in, shall we say, more compromising positions.”
I put my hands to my face and, for some reason, repeat the horror in a whisper, “Please never ever say ‘positions’ in that tone again.”
Lord alive. I thank my lucky stars that I was too young to remember walking in on my parents going at it on the shagpile rug. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Raif actively sought an annulment after this. It’s not the kind of thing you’d look forward to hearing over roast lamb for the next twelve months, is it?
“All I’m saying is, I understand.”
“Fine. But please take your understanding somewhere else.”
Mum sort oftsksand shakes her head as though to saySilly Lavender. “I just came to tell you both lunch is ready.”
“Okay.” I don’t release my brows because I’m not convinced she’s done.
“Raif does look rather ravenous.”
“Muuum!” I growl, pulling the sleeves of my sweater over my fingers as I morph into my teenage self.
Heather, my elder sister, often says our parents were hippies ten years too late. It’s how we all ended up with ridiculous names, but she hypothesizes it’s also why the topic of sex is up for discussion at the dinner table. It’s little wonder I don’t have girlfriends. Having friends over as a teenager was so stressful.
“Come and carry the French beans to the dining room, would you, darling?”
“Why can’t Primrose do it?” There’s no way I’m leaving these two alone in a room. Raif might think he’s slick, but he’s got nothing on Polly. The woman is so wily.
“Primrose is on potato duty. They’re coming out of the oven as we speak.”
“You already gave me a job. I showed Raif around the house.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot. Admiring the tree house, wasn’t it?”
“We haven’t finished yet.”
“In the parlor? Well, maybe you are like your mother after all.”
