But eventually, finally, the heady mix of love and lust that was powering his cock like the greatest battery on earth calmed down, and Chloe’s energy levels dipped at around the same time. So they found themselves back in bed, still slightly damp, in a cocoon of warm, naked skin and pounding hearts and soft, searching mouths, and he thought he’d never felt so purely, completely good in his whole damn life.

She trailed a finger over his chest, then pressed a kiss to his heart. “I rather like you, Redford.”

He tried to turn his grin into a groan. “No one says my full name as much as you do, you know. You throw it around like rice at a wedding.”

“Weddings on the mind, hm?” she asked in that familiar, mocking tone. “Clearly I am excellent in bed.”

Usually, he’d snicker and shoot something back and they’d snipe at each other for a while. But the truth was, he did have weddings on the mind, if that meant that he absolutely planned to marry her arse at some point in the not-too-distant future. And the fact that he even knew that made him feel so weirdly vulnerable, all he could do was mutter something vaguely belligerent and curse his heating skin.

She pulled back, looking delighted and also ready to rib him until the day they died. “Red! You’re blushing. Why are you blushing? Oh, do tell me—”

“Shut up, woman.” He sat up and kissed her pretty mouth quiet, and she leaned into him with a sweet little hum.

Then came a knock at the door that had them both jumping out of their skin. Their bare skin. Which was a problem because, a second later, they heard the rattle of a key in the lock.

“Ack,” Chloe yelped, and leapt off the bed with an agility he had literally never, ever seen from her. She winced at the movement—he didn’t care what she said or what fancy medicine patches she put on, she was definitely hurting after yesterday—then grabbed frantically for some clothes.

“Who is it?” he whispered, sitting up and looking around for—oh, hell. His dirty clothes were stuffed in Chloe’s washing machine, which she seemed to use as a wash basket. His bags were in the living room, which he couldn’t get to without running through the hall, balls swaying in the breeze for whoever just came in to see. Looked like he was stuck in here with his own bare backside and Chloe’s several thousand notebooks. Maybe he could use those to cover his junk if anyone burst into the room.

Or you could use the fucking sheets, genius.

Oh yeah. Chloe’s panic was catching.

“I don’t know who it is,” she told him, hopping around as she stabbed her legs into a pair of pajama pants. “But the options are either my parents—”

Crap.

“Or my sisters.”

Fingers crossed for that option. This wasn’t quite how he wanted to meet Chloe’s mum and dad. Ideally, he’d be, at a bare minimum, clothed for that introduction.

“Chlo!” a cheery voice hollered from the hallway. “It’s us! Hope you’re not dead!”

Everything about Chloe relaxed as she shoved on a pajama top. “Eve,” she said with obvious relief. “And—”

“I know you’re not dead,” called another, eerily similar voice. He realized with a jolt that all three of the sisters sounded almost identical. He’d never noticed before. “I’d feel it if you died, darling. Which means you’re ignoring us, you bitch.”

“Annnnd Dani,” Chloe finished, rolling her eyes. But then she looked a little shamefaced. “Gosh, I was so distracted preparing for our, um, trip, I haven’t texted them in two days. Maybe three.” She frowned, grabbed her glasses from the bedside table, and told him, “I won’t be a moment.” But then she hesitated, turned back to face him, bit her lip. Raising her voice, she called to her sisters, “I’m fine! Just … give me a minute!” And then, to Red, she whispered, “Would you like to come?”

He looked down at himself. “I’m naked.”

“Oh, yes.” She blinked.

“But thanks, love. Really.” He knew what she was doing. The last time she’d tried to ignore his existence in front of a family member, he may have been mildly offended. But this was different. He already knew Chloe would hate to even hint at the fact that she now had a sex life, no matter who it was with.

“All right,” she said softly. “In that case, stay quiet!”

Before he could reply, she hurried out, pulling the door almost shut behind her. Because, he realized with a quiet laugh, his awkward, uptight Button was going to try and keep his presence a secret. Even though his shit was lying all over her flat for anyone to see.

She was adorable.

Shaking his head, he got out of bed and stretched his tired muscles. He was just wondering how to occupy himself in the bedroom of a woman who regularly used phrases like sleep hygiene when a voice drifted in from the hall. Even though it was technically indistinguishable from Chloe’s, he knew it didn’t belong to her. If he had to guess, he’d say it was Dani. “… isn’t a particularly believable explanation, sister mine. I do believe you’re up to something.” She managed to make the phrase as darkly ominous as Professor Snape.

“What could I possibly be up to?” Chloe asked, sounding almost bored, but not quite pulling it off. The fact that she was even trying made a laugh bubble up in his throat.

A third voice piped up. “I really couldn’t say, but I will point out that it’s catatonically impossible to believe—”

“Categorically, darling.”

“—that you went camping alone. Not even because of your fibro; we simply weren’t made for the outdoors. And you don’t look traumatized enough to have spent the night in a tent.”

Chloe replied with a thread of fondness in her voice that wrapped around him like silk. “It was a very, very nice tent. A wonderful tent. I will be leaving a five-star review online.”

Oh, he bet she would.

“Hmmm,” someone murmured—he couldn’t tell who. And then, “Do the tent’s wonderful qualities have anything to do with the massive pair of men’s boots by your front door?”

“Oh, those are—ah—I’m sorry, I don’t see—”

He cracked a grin as Chloe spluttered.

“I knew it!” someone cried. “You—”

“Be quiet! He’ll hear you!”

“He’s here?”

“Shut up!”

The conversation dissolved into a chorus of whisper-shrieks. He tried not to eavesdrop, but the walls were bloody thin, and Chloe’s voice was impossible to ignore. Still, he tried. But then he heard a murmur, sharp with amusement, that shattered all his good intentions.

“Maybe I’ll owe you fifty pounds after all, Evie-bean. Meaningless sex and camping were the two items I didn’t think she’d manage to cross off.”

Red frowned. Meaningless sex? That wasn’t on the list.

Then, slow as the blood draining from his face, he remembered: the list he’d seen was incomplete. But, clearly, Chloe had shown her sisters the real thing.

A strange ringing sound filled his ears. His stomach tightened, as if a pound of lead suddenly lined his gut. Was he—did Chloe—?

No. No. He wasn’t going to assume the worst based on an overheard, throwaway comment. How could he? Chloe wasn’t like that. He loved her. And she might not love him yet, but she couldn’t treat him the way she did—couldn’t be so sweet—if she secretly saw him as …