Page 56 of Something Borrowed

Rowena grins. “Talking of hair.” She runs her fingers through Stan’s curls. “This is getting long, baby.”

“I’m seeing Leo tomorrow.”

She sends me a sparkling glance. “It looks to me like Raff saw him first.”

I groan. “It is a bit short.”

“What?” Stan turns to me. “Has he cut it?”

“Short,” his mum says. “Suits you, darling. Shit, the apple crumble will be burning.” She darts off down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Stan cocks his head to one side. “How short? You never said.”

“It sort of faded into the background with my work-based emergency.”

“Was that the work-based emergency that you created?”

“Pah! The hair will grow, but Jed will be happy for a bit. That’ll be a pleasant novelty.”

“Come here.”

I step forward obediently so he can run his fingers over my head. His fingers are cool against my hot skin, and I stand quiescent as he explores the contours of my skull. It’s strangely lulling, as if we’re under a spell, and the sounds of the house fade away as I lean further into his touch. It’s as necessary to me as water. A lot of men have touched me over the years, but not one of them ever did it with the knowledge of me that Stan brings.

He strokes my cheekbone. “I think you’re as beautiful as ever,” he says.

I smile, and his fingertips slip over the groove above my mouth and then along my lip. With a shudder, I unthinkingly open my mouth to suck gently on the fingertip, and he exhales a soft groan.

“Raff,” he says huskily.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you two finally having a moment?”

We jump at the voice from behind us, and I turn to find Stan’s younger brother observing us as if we’re on the stage and he has front-row tickets.

“Vinnie,” Stan says with affectionate resignation. “Can we help you?”

“No, it’s just that you’re blocking the way to the kitchen. If you need more time, I can get a stool and sit down.”

I narrow my eyes at him and wince. “Shit, you look like you need one. You look terrible.”

“I went to a rave last night,” he says, biting into his apple with strong white teeth. The Mortimer siblings' maternal grandad was a dentist, so they all have fantastic teeth.

“Well,” I say, “if your appearance is anything to go by, you had a good time.”

The idea that Stan was the wildest of his family had been knocked into a cocked hat when Vinnie reached eighteen. Vinnie could’ve rivalled Liam Gallagher in his heyday, but thankfully, he's much more charming. The Mortimer boys breeze through trouble with a gorgeous smile.

“I think so. To be honest, the whole night is a bit hazy. Memory’s a funny old thing, isn’t it?”

“It is if it’s mixed with a vat of Rumple Minzes,” I observe.

Stan shudders. “I don’t know how you drink that shit. It’s far too pepperminty.”

“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it,” Vinnie says and grins at me. “Nice haircut.”

“Of course, it is. It shows off my face.”

Stan laughs, and his dad’s study door opens, and his dad pops his head out. “I thought I heard you two.”

His black hair is shaggy with strands of grey, and there are lines around his eyes. He’s a very handsome man, and I can see where Stan gets his cheekbones from.

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