Page 103 of Holiday Romance
I twist my hands in front of me. “I think everyone else is up, so…”
“So.” He sighs, flipping the covers off.
“Your mother put the water on for a shower,” I tell him.
“You go first. I’ll guard the door.”
“You don’t have to—”
He barks a laugh. “I do. Trust me. The sock doesn’t always work.” He gets up and tosses me an old dressing robe I’d missed before. I shrug it on gratefully as I look around for my bag. And that’s when it hits me.
“What?” Andrew asks when I don’t follow him to the door.
“I don’t have my stuff.” I don’t haveanyof my stuff.
He’s momentarily confused before he realizes what I mean. In all the chaos of yesterday evening, of the journey home, ofeverything, I had completely forgotten the fact that not only did I not have my suitcase, but I hadn’t brought anything to the hospital either. Nothing but the clothes on my back and the phone in my pocket.
He winces, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “We have plenty of clean clothes. Hannah will give you something. And Mam has a lot of… lipstick.”
I try not to smile. “Lipstick?”
“Hairspray?”
“You need to get a girlfriend,” I say without thinking, and immediately regret it at the look in his eye. “I’d settle for shampoo right now,” I add, ducking past him into the hallway.
I follow him back to the bathroom where he shows me how to work the shower, jokes for five seconds about staying inside while I undress, and eventually takes guard in the hallway, just as he promised.
But even with him there, I take the quickest shower I can, using the supermarket shower gel and shampoo sparingly before towel-drying my hair. When I look halfway decent, I pull the robe back on and gather my old clothes under one arm.
I step out to find Andrew still guarding the door. Only now he’s not alone.
An almost unfairly attractive man stands beside him, a mug of tea in his hand.
Christian. The youngest brother.
He’s a little taller than Andrew, with an expensive haircut and a fairer complexion that must come from his mother’s side. He has that classical handsome look about him, dark eyes, a long nose, a hint of cheekbones. Whereas Andrew has always been a little scruffy, and even more so this morning, Christian looks like he belongs in a soap opera. Or, at the very least, a marketing campaign for men’s razors.
He smirks when I appear, not exactly mean, but not exactly friendly either and lacking the teasing warmth that I always get from Andrew.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, raising his mug in a mock toast.
“My brother,” Andrew says needlessly. “Christian.”
“Hi.” I tighten the belt around my waist, pausing when both sets of eyes drop to my hands. Christian’s immediately flick back up.
Andrew’s take a second.
“Andrew was just telling me about your nephew,” Christian says. “Congratulations. It sounds like the two of you have had quite the week.”
“Something like that,” Andrew scoffs. “Hannah’s going to bring some stuff in for you,” he adds to me.
“I can just wear my clothes from yesterday. She doesn’t have to—”
“She wants to,” he says cutting me off. “And you have to be nice to her because it’s Christmas.” He nods to the shower before I can argue any further. “Water still warm?”
I nod and he smiles.
“My turn,” he announces, pushing away from the wall. I step to the side to let him pass and he disappears behind the door, leaving me alone with his brother.
