Page 13 of Lipstick Kiss

“Yeah, you do. It’s sweet. Listen, we need to focus on something else. You’re back, and we need to have a handover of sorts. When will you be free of torturing Freya?” Archer asked.

“Two hours, maybe less if she’s not talkative,” Luke replied and slouched onto the wall at the rear of Archer’s cottage.

Both his brothers lounged on the sofa with matching smirks. Jason looked at Archer, and Archer nodded back, grinning.

“What?” Luke asked, looking at one and then the other.

“Nothing, brother. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Hey,” Freya said as she trudged along the grass to Luke’s left.

“Hey, why are you coming from that direction?” Luke asked.

“Because, genius, you said to meet you at ten outside the back of your cottage. Here you are outside Archer’s back door. Plus, why is the back of your cottage empty of anything to sit on. Even Jason’s place has comfy chairs.”

“I think you need a nap,” Luke said.

“We’re going. See you later,” Jason said and sidled past Luke.

Archer followed. They both waved at Freya as they speed walked across the lawn to a minimum safe distance.

Pussies.

“I’m sorry, I’m pissy. I haven’t had a lot of sleep. Lead on to the mystery puzzle for us to solve,” Freya said.

“That’s the spirit,” Luke said, holding out his hand.

Freya looked at his hand and lifted hers to take it, but he dropped it.

“Ah, probably shouldn’t do that now you’re someone else’s. Let’s take a walk.”

Freya frowned, looking at her hand to his and then back to hers.

“We can’t hold hands? We always hold hands. We especially hold hands when we’re on an adventure. And hey, you didn’t kiss my head when I arrived.”

“You belong to someone else now. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to touch you without speaking to him first. Ya know? Ask his permission, see how he feels about me holding your hand and kissing your temple. I feel bad enough that I kissed your nose to wake you up this morning.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, you were asleep, so I don’t think that counts.”

Luke held back his laugh at the scowl Freya was throwing him.

“Fine, well, don’t expect me to save you if you fall off the cliff like last time. You’re on your own.”

“Or,” Luke said, elongating the word, giving her a side glance. “We could go see him, say hello, get to know each other.”

Luke used his hands like he was shaking maracas, striding beside her as she took off across the lawn. He hadn’t told her she was going in the wrong direction. He was having way too much fun pressing her irritated buttons. This was a new Freya.

“He’s away,” she said, stomping across the grass with her arms folded.

The short ponytail bobbed as she strode along. Luke zipped in front of her when they got to the fifth cottage in the row of houses his siblings lived in and held up his hands, careful not to touch her. They were at the same height as her breasts. He’d never paid that much attention to them before, but her deep breathing made his eyes zero in. Her white gipsy top showed a flash of cleavage. She was still in her yellow cotton trousers and white plimsolls.

“Where?” Luke asked.

“The mainland.”

“Doing what?”

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