Page 37 of The Puck Stops Here
Fair?She sipped her prosecco while fighting the urge to climb the wall to her left.
Just chill, it’s not like they’re gonna press you on Sissi and a certain pact you made…
‘What do you want to know?’
‘You’re English, right?’ Blake said.
‘Half English. Half Scottish. Brought up in the Cotswolds.’
‘Sisters, brothers?’
‘Neither.’
‘Mother, father?’
‘Mother. The latter I haven’t seen since I was seven.’
‘No?’ Blake was quick to pick up on that one. ‘You don’t seem all that sad about it?’
‘My life improved greatly the day I stopped depending on him to make it better.’
Something akin to admiration shone in his gaze. ‘Sounds like we have that in common.’
‘So it would seem. Next.’
She didn’t hesitate. She was brave and in her comfort zone because she could talk about her childhood in spades. She’d found peace with her father, or lack thereof, long ago.
Blake looked at Aiden who tipped his bottle, granting him full rein. Either he wasn’t interested, or he wasn’t concerned about his brother’s line of questioning. She hoped it was the latter because the former would be an issue, his disinterest the polar opposite of what she was trying to achieve.
She upped her game, slipping off her suit jacket so that her semi-sheer blouse came into play and giving Aiden her best angle while focusing her gaze on Blake.
‘A mommy’s girl then?’
Bah, she laughed at his suggestion. ‘No. I wouldn’t say I’m a mummy’s girl. I love her. She’s an incredible woman to have gone through all she has and raise me to be thewonderfulperson I am, but a mummy’s girl, no siree. We’re nothing alike.’
Unless you counted how they looked, their movie fetish and blasted PMDD. And she wasn’t about to talk about that.
She sipped her prosecco and Blake’s eyes dipped to her chest. So swift she could have imagined it. Only she hadn’t. But what about Aiden…?
‘What’s she like?’ Blake pressed.
‘My mother?’ Astrid glanced at his brother to see if he was as invested in her as Blake.
He gave her a smile – was that gentle encouragement, a dose of sympathy for the grilling, or something else?
‘She’s an old romantic,’ Astrid said, looking back at Blake. ‘A free spirit too. She gives love as freely as breathing and doesn’t think the rules apply to her.’
‘The rules?’
‘The generally accepted social norms. What you should and shouldn’t say, how to dress, how to be. She’s quite… unique.’
‘Good for her.’
‘My grandparents wouldn’t agree. As Lord and Lady Ashford?—’
‘Lord and Lady Ashford?’ Blake cocked a brow.
‘What? Surprised I come from such good stock?’
