Page 63 of Not In The Contract
Jamie hummed, not quite pleased, and went back to her food.
“Well, that was,” Devon paused, the now empty plates stacked neatly in her hands. “Unexpected.”
Unease prickled along my shoulders and I itched to change the topic before Devon could pick apart my relationship with my sister.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, holding my hands out to take the plates from her. “I can take care of it by myself.”
Jamie had already left and Devon had taken it upon herself to tidy up.
“I really don’t mind,” she said, gathering the forks and piling them onto the plates. “I feel useless living here and not doing anything.”
I laughed. “I don’t expect you to earn your keep, Devon.” I chuckled. “You’re staying here for studying purposes, nothing more.”
Her eyes dimmed a little and she turned away before I could ask about it. She lifted the plates into her hands and made her way into the kitchen.
“We didn’t get to talk much,” she noted, and I followed her into the kitchen. “Uh, where the hell is your dishwasher?”
I chuckled and stepped around her, gently moving her out of the way with a hand on her back and pressed my fingertips to a spot beneath the counter.
The dish washer door slid open and she blinked. “Dear God, is that a psychokinetic prompt or something?”
I chuckled and took the plates out of her hands to rinse them.
“Anyway,” Devon said. “Could we talk for a bit, or are you a little tired after all of that?”
“I’m pretty tired,” I said truthfully. “But I think we could talk for a while tomorrow, if you’re up to it.”
Devon smiled, understanding and warm in a way I hadn’t expected. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said.
“Devon met your sister?” Taylor half shrieked.
I pressed my hand to her mouth to shut her up, glancing over my shoulder in case someone heard. Which, I realized belatedly, was stupid. We were on a construction site bustling with workers, the machinery cranking away at ear-splitting volumes.
“Yeah.” I groaned in defeat. “It was so uncomfortable, Christ. I thought I’d lose my mind.”
“Wait, how did Jamie react?” Taylor asked.
“As well as you could expect,” I huffed. “She can’t stand Devon. She immediately asked if Devon and I were dating; it was humiliating.”
“Oh, yikes.” She winced. “She wasn’t rude, was she?”
“You’ve met Jamie,” I grumbled. “What do you think?”
“Poor Devon,” she said solemnly, but I smiled.
“Actually, Devon held her own,” I said, hoping the pride I felt wasn’t splashed across my face. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Jamie on the back foot.”
“Oh?” Taylor frowned, clearly impressed. “When do I get to meet Devon? She sounds like my kind of gal.”
“No.” I chuckled. “I need to fully get over this last introduction before I can even think about having Devon meet anyone else in my life.”
“Aw, why?” Taylor whined. “Are you afraid she’ll judge you for the amount of crazy people you surround yourself with?”
“Yes,” I teased. “The poor girl has enough on her plate with her thesis and my schedule. She doesn’t need the Fantastical Five to throw her off. I’d like to leave her with the impression that rich people can be normal.”
“What bullshit is that?” Taylor howled, squeezing my arm to stay upright. “You? Normal?”
“Andthatis exactly why you will not be meeting her.”
