"Toprodyou," I clarified. Alright, so maybe we were hashing this out after all. Just… in front of Arabella. Splendid. "You were never going to admit you liked Gemma, so I… helped." Arabella and Knox gave me matching, half-lidded glares. Usually, Knox and I ganged up on Arabella to make her life hell, but when they teamed up against me, it was downright glacial. I held up my hands in surrender. "I apologized."
"Half-heartedly," Knox muttered.
Okay, so it had been half-hearted. Gemma was beautiful and vivacious, with a bright personality that matched her strawberry-tinted blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. The fact that Knox had lived with her for weeks before admitting he was attracted to her had boggled my mind. And it had annoyed the hell out of me.
Neither of us had been terribly lucky in the love life department. I'd figured if he wasn't going to make a move, either I could, and I'd get lucky or he'd wake up and realize how much she'd meant to him. Obviously, the latter had been true.
Arabella seemed relieved that we were talking about our problems instead of whatever had stained her high cheekbones with tears. She folded her arms, shielding herself against the cold. "Sounds like a dick move, Spence."
I exhaled in irritation. Arabella was not helping my crusade for forgiveness. So, I turned it back on her. "Allow me to unfurl my chivalrous side," I said with a magnanimous bow while we walked. "Who the hell made you cry, and how badly should I beat the shit out of them?"
Arabella stiffened, and Knox seemed to remember that she was the entire reason we were walking in the misty rain toward our favorite lunch cafe. "Yes," he said slowly, his baritone voice adding weight to his scowl. "Whodidmake you cry? You promised us the truth."
A shiver traveled down Arabella's slight form, and I rolled my eyes heavenward. Arabella Rook was such a walking contradiction. She kept up a no-nonsense attitude to distract us from all hernonsensicaldecisions so no one would suspect that she was just as vulnerable as the rest of us.
Her outfit was a perfect example. Her plum button-down and gray slacks were well-tailored to her willowy frame, and she looked like a badass bitch with her pink hair and firm mouth. But it was the absolute worst outfit for a chilly, dreary day in the Pacific Northwest, and she was too stubborn to ever ask for help.
I unzipped my thick, dark brown coat, shrugged it off, and plopped it on her shoulders. She started to protest, which I'd anticipated, so I closed it around her, trapping her arms in the thick, warm material, and then I dragged her down the street."Come on, Bee. Let's hear it. You didn't even cry when Watson died."
Watson had been a barn kitten she'd found at the age of fourteen. He'd only lived four days before succumbing to an illness none of us—especially as teenagers—knew what to do about. The memory of young Arabella holding that lifeless kitten's body in her small hands still haunted me.
I'd silently begged her to cry about it. To let go. To admit that her life with loveless parents and harsh expectationswasa bit much. That the death of a kitten could matter. That it could get through the thick veneer of emotionless armor she wore around her heart. But she hadn't cried then. She'd only stroked its tabby fur and murmured broken apologies.
To see her crying now was… disconcerting.
At the mention of the kitten, Arabella speared me with a hard glance. "I wasn't crying."
"Lie," Knox and I said in unison again.
She let out an exasperated sound, and I towed her blithely down the street. "You promised," I reminded her.
"Fine, I will tell you, but ononecondition." We reached the cafe, and Knox opened the door so I could guide Arabella inside. "You can listen, but you can't do anything about it."
"Please," Knox drawled sardonically.
At the same time, I muttered, "Not happening."
"Then I'm not telling you," she replied with an uptilted chin.
Sometimes, I wasn't sure if I wanted to smother my best friend's sister or kiss her. I tried to ignore the second thought if it came up, but at the moment, with her bound up in my coat and looking delightfully stubborn, Ireallyhad to wonder what kissing her smart mouth would be like. She'd probably knock my teeth out if I tried.
Knox took hold of the coat, stealing her from my grasp and pulling her close. We were clogging the entrance to the cafe, but Knox didn't seem to give a shit. "Arabella Rook."
She stared back defiantly. "My way or no way."
I folded my arms. Knox wasn't going to win this one. The fact that he hadn't learned this after trying and failing dozens of times to control his sister was, frankly, amusing to me. She responded to brute force or nothing at all. Intimidation was a no-go, at least from her brother. With a disgusted sigh, Knox released her. "Fine."
I followed behind Arabella, smothering a smile at her self-satisfied aplomb and Knox's clear aggravation. The cafe was cute, decorated with gnomes and whimsical plant life, and they'd already trimmed their ficus and windows with twinkly white lights for Christmas. Not that the atmosphere mattered to me. The real reason Knox and I liked meeting here for lunch was that it was close to his OB/GYN practice, and their ham and Swiss melts were the best I'd ever tasted.
We ordered our sandwiches and drinks at the counter, and then we found a mosaic top table to sit at while we waited for our food. Arabella wriggled out of my coat, handing it to me with uncomfortable stiffness, but I pushed it back to her. "Keep it. I'll see you on Thanksgiving, anyway. You can give it to me, then."
"Oh,willyou?" Knox asked peevishly.
I shrugged. "Gemma invited me."
Knox muttered something about a Texel mouse under his breath, and Arabella draped the coat across the back of her chair. I made a silent bet that she purposefully left it behind just to irk me. Rolling her shoulders, she faced us uncomfortably. "So, it's Sylvia."
I'd figured that much, at least. "So, we can't beat her up?" I guessed vacuously.
