A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) (16 page)

I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other. Jenny’s a darling, but I’m yet to meet her husband and kids.

“Have you told our dear sister we’re an item?”

“Of course.”

“And what did she say?” I ask hurriedly as I hear Jenny’s voice calling us up to the flat.

“What does it matter?”

I grab Darcy’s arm and turn her to face me.

“It matters to me.”

“Jenny’s happy for us.”

“
Really?
” I quiz, raising my brows.

“Yes, really,” she snaps. “Look, if you must know she doesn’t give a damn, Snow. You’re forgetting she’s got her own worries, with no money and another kid on the way. I don’t know what the big deal is anyway, none of us are related, we just happened to be adopted and fostered by the same family.”

I follow her up the stairwell, just far enough below for my eyes to sit in line with the soft curves of her ass and watch the tight denim of her jeans move with her.

“I’m so glad you came,” Jenny says as she and her two kids spill out of the doorway.

Darcy leaps into her arms.

“You must be Max,” I say, bending towards the older of the two children.

“My name’s Reece,” he says, folding his arms.

“Maybe if you’d bothered to speak to us at the funeral, or text or rang once in a while, you’d know.” Jenny laughs, though she rolls her eyes.

“Errr,” I stutter, “don’t look like you’ve washed behind your ears today.”

I flick my hand behind Reece’s ear, but he steps away and pouts.

“Oh, so this is where you hide your money?”

I bend down so I’m level with his face. He looks into my eyes and screws up his nose. I pull my arm up from my side and flash him a fifty-pound note.

“Cool!” he squeaks. Leaving his pout behind, he breaks into a wide grin.

“Get yourself some sweets,” I say, patting my hand on the top of his head.

Grinning at me, he snatches the note from between my fingers, giggling. Followed by his sister, he runs back through the doorway and into the flat.

Jenny raises her eyebrows almost into her hairline.

“A ten year old, fifty pounds,
seriously
? That’s a year’s pocket money you’ve just handed him.”

She lets out a long sigh and links her thumbs into the corner pockets of her dungarees. The dark blue denim is stretched tight across her belly; she’s far too many weeks gone to hide her pregnancy. I stand propped against the wall and look her up and down. She’s not overly tall; when I speak to her I find I have to bend my head. I glance at her face and the fine hair that frames it; I gather her colour is from a bottle, and by all the different shades of brown I guess she’s done it herself. She has such an insipid complexion; a few shades lighter on the foundation would have suited her skin tone far better. If only she had taken some advice from a professional she could have scrubbed up well, and even looked quite attractive. But then looking her over for a second time I can’t help wondering if standing next to Darcy my critical eye is doing her an injustice. I can see the under-eye glance Jenny passes Darcy; I’m not even in the door and I’ve already pissed her off. On second thoughts, it may have been wiser for Chase to come too.

I follow Darcy into a small square hallway. I can hear a man shouting and swearing.

“You’ll have to forgive Chris, he’s been this way since he lost his job,” Jenny explains as she pushes open a door to her left.

We step into an open-plan lounge-diner. The kids are on their knees, bouncing up and down on a sofa covered with a knitted blue throw. Between them a scruffy St Bernard lies fast asleep, God knows how. My eyes shift towards a dark-haired man sitting half on the carpet and half on a black beanbag; I can’t see his face, as his back is towards us. Clasped between his hands he holds a PlayStation controller, and is shouting and swearing at the flat-screen TV.

“Chris, we have company,” Jenny calls out, though her voice can’t compete with the noise in the room.

He lifts his hand, waving it into the air.

“Five minutes,” he calls without looking up.

Arrogant bastard.

“Cappuccino?” Jenny asks, taking Darcy’s arm.

I see a smile break out on Darcy’s face.

“Oh, and sis, pictures you haven’t seen; I want to show you the kids’ school plays, and the scan I had last week.”

“You found out the sex?” I hear Darcy enquire.

They leave me not knowing as they walk through an archway into the kitchen; I can see they want some time together. I slump back against the wall, crossing my arms. I can almost feel the kids’ eyes as they stare over at me, but I don’t look back. I’m far more interested in Jenny’s husband.
What a fucking pig he is, and
hasn’t he heard of a barber?
His dark hair is a joke: lank, greasy and just hanging, like him, hanging round doing fuck all while his pregnant wife is run off her feet. What’s with the guy?
Chauvinist prick
; we haven’t even been introduced and I dislike him already. He couldn’t even be arsed to make the funeral; looking at him now I can guess what he was doing.

I hear the chink of glasses and look up to see a smiling face as Jenny lays the table, which is balanced on pieces of folded cardboard. How can she smile and look so happy when she’s living like this?

“Snow, sit down and make yourself at home. Darcy’s serving up, dinner will be ready in five.”

My eyes flit from Jenny to an easy chair she points to. I walk towards an open window at the far side of the room and glance down at a discoloured throw matted with dog hair.

“I’m fine thanks,” I tell her. “I’ll give you a hand in the kitchen if you like?”

She shakes her head.

“You’re my guest; sit down, I insist,” she says, polishing a wine glass with a white serviette.

I can’t escape her kind eyes, nor can I offend her. Scrunching up my nose, I lower myself onto the cushion and shuffle to the very edge, balancing myself with the tips of my toes. As inconspicuously as I can, I attempt to brush the soft hair away with my fingers, but it sticks to my trousers. I huff, throwing myself back in the chair. What’s the fucking point? That’s another one of my best suits ruined. Paint, now dog hair and drool.

Every other word Chris shouts is ‘fuck’, and I wonder if that is the full extent of his vocabulary. The kids still jump up and down, giggling, but now mimic their dad’s cursing. I’m no saint, but it sounds fucking awful coming from the mouth of a child. I can count on one hand how many times a swear word has slipped from Darcy’s lips, and I can’t fault her. In so many ways she appears to be a class above the person she is, and I have no intention of letting her struggle or the hardship of life to ruin her. My money, every penny if needed, will make her the lady she was destined to be. She may be my slut, my lover in the bedroom, but on my arm she’s my lady.

“Spag bol okay?” Jenny asks, ambling through the archway with a steaming plate in each hand.

Spaghetti bolognaise; God, that brings back memories. I haven’t eaten pasta for years. I nod as she sets the plates down on the table. I get to my feet and notice there are only four chairs. Maybe she’s read my mind, as she tells me the kids will eat theirs on their lap.

“Chris…”

“Five minutes!” he snaps.

“Whatever. If it goes cold, it’ll be in the microwave.”

I pull out the chair next to her and sit down. Darcy walks back through the archway towards the table with a bottle of wine, and placing it next to four polished glasses she sits down opposite me. Jenny leans forward in her seat, passing me a corkscrew. I stand to uncork the bottle, while Jenny leaves the table and hands the kids their dinners.

“Let them watch their cartoons for a bit,” I hear her tell Chris as I fill the glasses. “Not for me,” she calls over. “Pour me a water from the jug. God, it’s been years since we’ve all sat down together for a meal. Anyway, what have you two been getting up to in London?”

My eyes shift to Darcy, who looks down, burying her nose deeper in her glass. Her cheeks redden.

“You don’t need to embellish, I’ve got a good imagination.” Jenny giggles.

Playing with the long strands of spaghetti on her plate, Darcy doesn’t attempt to speak. I love her shyness, the innocence she purveys. I fidget in my seat; her blushes are such a fucking turn-on. Shifting the belt of my trousers, I imagine what I would do to her if we were alone. We wouldn’t be eating off the table, I’d have her stripped and bent over it.

“Snow…”

I turn to face Jenny.

“Oh sorry, I was miles away.” I smile and glance at Darcy. “Seen a few of the sights, visited my mum.”

Jenny frowns, dropping her knife and fork.

“Your
mum
?”

Fuck me, here we go again
. I take a deep breath.

“I know I told you she’d died, but it wasn’t really a lie because in my eyes she had.”

I have to look twice, hardly able to believe that she’s looking down her nose at me. She holds on to her look of disapproval while I straighten myself in my chair.
Whatever;
I don’t need to explain myself to her or anyone.

“Don’t think badly of him.” Darcy’s words break the silence. “We went to visit her at the hospice; she’s a horrible woman.”

I slump back in my seat and rub my fingers over my brows.

“She told me…” I allow my voice to crack, and my eyes soften as I look towards Jenny.

She smiles and rests her hand on top of mine. I let out a short cough as if I’m regaining my composure.

“Go on,” she prompts, squeezing my fingers.

I have to bite my inner cheeks to keep the look of sincerity on my face.

“My mum wasn’t pleased to see me; in fact, the first words that left her lips were that she didn’t recognise me as her son. She started shouting at me, pressing her buzzer and demanding that I leave.”

Jenny doesn’t move her hand from mine and sits in silence. A chair leg screeches opposite, and we look up from the table.

“So you decided to join us?” There’s a jokey edge to Jenny’s voice, though her eyes shoot unspoken daggers.

I can’t be arsed to look at Chris, and certainly can’t be arsed to strike up a conversation with the ignorant pig. I eat in silence, listening to them gossip.

I catch Darcy’s eye and feel her foot rubbing against my ankle. This is a new side of her, a side I like, far more adventurous. As she teases me, my cock hardens and I can hardly wait to get her out of here and back to the hotel.

“Chocolate fudge cake for dessert,” Jenny says as she clears the plates.

“Perfect,” I tell her, my mouth watering.

“You don’t have to be so polite, Snow,” Darcy mutters.

I look at her, confused.

Her eyes widen. “You can say no.”

I frown.

“You hate chocolate; you’ve always hated
anything
sweet.”

“You’re joking, Darc.”

I think back to the chocolate-covered strawberries and lick my lips at the thought of what I did with them the other night. I take in her blank expression.

“People can change.”

She says no more, and it seems she’s accepted my explanation. She pushes her chair back and goes to help Jenny. But it’s still there, a foot resting on my ankle. I remove the serviette I had strategically placed in my lap and look down at a dark-blue sock. My eyes dart to Chris, who winks.

“Finally I get your attention, sweetheart.”

“What the fuck?” I jump up from my chair. “Do you fancy me or sumat?”

I feel my fists clench at my side; I’m about to knock this fucker out.

“You don’t remember me, do you? Think back, think hard, old boy, coz I remember you, I remember you
very
well.”

I pause, taking in every one of his features and allowing my fingers to straighten.

“
Snow
, isn’t it? I never forget a face.”

So engrossed by what he’s done and said I hardly notice Jenny’s hand and an oval dish being placed down before me. Without making a scene, my only option is to smile politely and sit back down and eat.

“What the fuck … fancy me?” the kids call out from the sofa.

Shit
, I can hear them mimicking the words that came from my mouth.
God, I wonder what else they heard
.

“Reece, Sophie, you can forget your pudding. Get to your rooms!” Jenny shouts.

I hear sighs and footsteps, and jump as the lounge door slams.

“Chris,” Jenny snaps, “they’re repeating everything you say. Their language has to stop; a couple of weeks and they’ll be back at school. The way they’re going they’ll be expelled before I drop this one.”

Chris’s green eyes never leave me; every time I gaze up, they’re there.
Who the fuck is he?
I tap my spoon against the side of my dish. I can’t place him; I’m sure we’ve never met before. I just want to get Darcy, and get the hell out of here.

“Ah, Jenny, I was just telling Snow about the Rolex I bought off Steve down the pub. He knows his watches; going to show him mine so he can tell me if I’ve been fucked over.”

He gets to his feet; I guess he wants me alone. He screws up his serviette, throwing it on the table. I smile at the girls and follow him. I observe his stance, the way his left shoulder dips, the way his hand scratches the back of his neck until we enter his bedroom and the door closes behind us. He spins round to face me. I don’t give him chance to utter a word and throw him back against the wall, pushing my forearm against his scrawny neck.

“Whatever you know, or think you know,” I spit into his face, “I suggest you keep it to yourself,
understand
?” I hiss, lifting his feet from the floor.

He gasps for breath, yet still he grins at me. I remove my arm, and laughing, he slides to the floor.

“Fucking hell, is that all you’ve got?” Chris jokes as he straightens the round neck of his T-shirt. “But I guess five years can change a person, and my God the years have changed you.”

My eyes narrow. “Okay, you’ve got my attention, I’m listening. How much do you want?”

Chris throws his head back. “It’s not about money.”

“Bollocks, everything’s about money, everything’s got its price.”

“End it with Darcy; you’re no good for her and she’s far too good for you.”