“Ninjas,” Archie replies, as quick as a whip.
“I didn’t see ninjas about.”
“Of course you didn’t. They’re ninjas. You’re not supposed to see them.”
“Here,” Hugh says, proffering another bamboo tub. “Have one of these instead.”
“These look like Oreos.” I examine the sandwich cookie that both smells and looks better than the real thing. But I guess homemade always wins, especially when you have your own in-house chef. “Taste pretty good, too.”
“Dougal made them.” Archie’s eyes gleam a little mischievously as Hugh offers the container to Griffin.
“Well, I helped,” his big brother answers. “Would you like one, Uncle Griffin?” he asks in a tone much sweeter than I’m used to hearing from him. “Dougal only made a few of them, so there’s only one each.”
“Sure.” Griffin reaches into the container as I take another bite of mine. “Thanks,” he says before stuffing it into his mouth. Whole.
“Gofdefek!” Griffin heaves to his side and begins spitting out his Oreo with a hacking kind of cough. Meanwhile, the boys are rolling around with laughter.
“What did you two do?” I ask, trying to use my serious teacher voice.
“We just made Oreos with Dougal,” Hugh playfully protests.
“Yes!” agrees Archie. “Then we licked the filling out and filled it with toothpaste!”
“Bleuk!” Griffin hurriedly reaches for his glass. I think he might mutter something uncomplimentary, but it’s hard to tell with all that white foam coming from his mouth.
“Toothpaste doesn’t foam.”
No,” agrees Hugh between guffaws, “but it does if you mix a bit of Alka Seltzer in.”
Griffin eventually stops foaming. And fuming. And after the least sincere apology ever, he settles back into a somewhat easy-going mood. Though that might be the hip flask of whisky he’s brought along.
“It’s a little early, isn’t it?”
“It’s always five o’clock somewhere in the world.” Legs bent in front of him, he rests his elbows on his knees. He offers me the flask in a negligent fashion.
I shake my head. “Are you okay?” I ask, thinking back to the phone call I’d overheard and his dejected tone. Despite the porn-worthy moans, I don’t think it’s girlfriend trouble.
“I’ve got a spot of trouble at work,” he replies, not meeting my eye. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
A slow grin grows across his face.
“Yeah, anything but that.”
“This is seeming very one-sided, Holly. I’m meeting my side of this bargain, but you’re not doing as we agreed.”
“What exactly did we agree?” I fix my attention on the boys currently kicking a soccer ball around.
“That you would be open to my attentions. To my wooing of you.”
“Woo?” My head swings back, my reply a touch incredulous. “I mean, have you started? I guess I must’ve missed it.”
“I didn’t realise you were expecting grand overtures.”
I clamp my lips together because my first instinct is to tell him he’d never best the master of overtures. Of gambits. Of smouldering looks. Of exquisite touches.
“I obviously need to up my game.”
“I never said I’d be open to anything. I’m leaving soon, remember?”
“I’m not after your hand in marriage, love. Just your knickers in my hand when I leave your room.”
“I never said—”
“Whoa! Hold your horses. I’m not the villain here.” He chuckles, pressing his right hand over his heart. “I wasn’t expecting you to lie back and grit your teeth as a form of payback. I’m not that desperate,” he adds witheringly. “I just expected you to be a little more open to the attraction between us.”
“Griffin—”
“Or what the hell am I doing this for?”
“To annoy your brother, I guess. To get one up on him.”
“Oh, Holly.” He presses his palms behind him, leaning back and tipping his head to the sky. “Do you really think he believes our little charade?” He turns his head and opens one eye. “If anything, I just look like a bigger prick than usual to him right now.”
“If you think I’m the kind of woman who’ll sleep with brothers—”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
“It’d be a first time for me!” I protest.
“But not for Alexander,” he seems to mutter.
“Is that what this is between you two?” I ask suddenly. “Did he sleep with a girlfriend of yours? Is that where the atmosphere comes from?”
“No.” He tilts his head to the sky again with a deep exhalation. “Forget I said anything.”
“May I have some juice, Holly?” Archie settles himself next to me and shoots Griffin a wary smile.
“How about water, instead?” It’s not really a suggestion as I hand him a bottle of mineral water. “You’re going a little pink.” Reaching behind me, I grab his Batman bucket hat and pop it onto his head.
“Do you know, I love trees,” he says, wiping away droplets of water with the back of his hand. “They’re so . . . majestic.”
“That they are,” I agree. “Especially the very old ones.”
“Uncle Sandy says some of the cedar trees on the front lawn are more than three hundred years old. That’s really old, isn’t it?”