“No, but I’ve had good motivation to practise recently. Attempting to skewer Will Farmer.”
Simon’s amusement visibly increased. He studied Richard. “So, you’re Franklin Troy’s son. You’re not much like him, are you?”
Richard’s half smile faded. He rubbed the back of his wrist over his sweaty forehead. Looking down at the sword in his hand, he flipped it around, extending the handle for the kids to take. “I hope not.”
*
Lainie stood in the doorway to the kitchen, biting down on the edge of her thumbnail. Richard nodded and responded to something that her dad said. He was still flushed and ruffled after his impromptu playacting with the kids. She’d almost dropped a plate when he’d started channelling Captain Hook. At least three members of her family had obviously given him the thumbs-up. She couldn’t help remembering the last time Will had been with her family. Like Richard, he’d looked as if he’d wandered into the monkey cage at the zoo, but he’d been even more hopeless at hiding his discomfort. And he definitely hadn’t bothered to muck about with her nieces and nephews. He’d spent most of the time on his phone. Probably texting Crystalle, in hindsight.
“I so knew it.” Sarah’s voice was smug in her ear.
Lainie removed her thumbnail from her mouth long enough to respond. “Did you? I didn’t.”
She still wasn’t sure quite how this had happened. How, in a matter of weeks, she had ended up...
“Totally smitten,” Sarah said. “Both of you.”
“I am,” Lainie admitted. She reached down and clasped her sister-in-law’s arm, holding it for support. “I don’t know about him.”
He was still snarky, sarky, snobby Richard Troy. But sometimes—
“Lainie. Last month, the man would barely have recognised you if he fell over you, outside the theatre. Today, he came to your parents’ house for a baby’s birthday party, put up with your brothers acting like something out of a Tarantino movie, and let a bunch of lunatic children attack him with plastic swords. He’s a goner.”
She affectionately pulled Lainie’s hair, much as Richard had done earlier, and went to corral her offspring.
Lainie felt strangely tongue-tied and shy of Richard as they put on their coats, ready to leave. His knuckles brushed her nape when he automatically reached out to pull her hair free of her collar. She looked at him and then quickly away.
“Tig?” His fingers closed loosely around her wrist. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said, still not looking at him.
“Lainie—”
“Bye, Lainie. See you later, Mr. Troy.” Phil, her oldest nephew, gave her a one-armed hug as he passed. She belatedly lifted a hand to squeeze his shoulder. She had to stretch up to do it. He was almost as tall as Ryan now. “Oh, happy birthday to you too, by the way,” Phil said, and Lainie’s head snapped up in time to catch Richard’s faint grimace.
“Birthday app,” Phil explained, raising his phone. He pushed open the front door with his elbow, making a face at the drizzling rain outside “Your name came up on the celebrity list when I was uploading some photos of Coop. Meant to say something before, but I forgot. Hope the rest of the day is a good one.”
He departed with another casual wave, and Lainie stared at Richard. He looked annoyed.
“It isn’t your birthday, is it?” she asked apprehensively.
His frown deepened. “Well—” he said reluctantly, and she released a sharp breath.
“Why didn’t you say something? We could have done something to celebrate.”
“You’ve just answered your own question.”
“You’re exasperating.”
In the car, she kept one eye on the passing streets while she checked her email and Facebook. She’d been linked to a new gossip article. They’d been papped leaving Richard’s house.
“Why is it,” she demanded, scrolling through the photos, “that you look good in every single photo, and I look borderline okay in one out of ten?” They stopped at an intersection, and she held the iPad for him to see. “Look at that. It’s like James Bond and something out of Fraggle Rock.”
He didn’t bother to turn his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You could have told me my hair was doing that.” She glanced up. “Wait! Stop at Sainsbury’s, please.”
Richard shot her a look. “Why?”
“Because I need to buy stuff.”
“What stuff?”
Fortunately, there was one single advantage to having grown up surrounded by large and irritating men. She knew how to effectively end a line of questioning. Employ the dreaded tampon. “Oh, you know. Women’s stuff.”