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“You’re practically married.”
I raise a brow. “You sure you want to start talking about relationships?”
His expression drops.
Got him.
“How’s Georgie?” I ask, enjoying this far too much.
“Don’t.”
I laugh and turn back to the Mustang. “Brotherly intuition.”
Knox walks over from the office with a coffee in one hand. He’s been handling most of the day-to-day jobs while Logan and I—well, mostly me—try to finish the Mustang in time for Christmas.
“You two done gossiping?” Knox asks, leaning against the workbench.
“We weren’t gossiping,” Logan argues.
“Sure you weren’t.”
I hear Rory’s car pull into the lot, and Knox immediately goes rigid beside me.
What the fuck is with him lately? Every time Rory comes around, he suddenly doesn’t know where to look. They’ve always had some kind of love-hate relationship, but the energy between them has definitely shifted.
Anyway. Not my problem.
Rory walks into the shop carrying a tray of coffees. “Mom wants to know who’s coming for Christmas Eve.”
“Me,” Knox answers immediately.
Rory places the tray on the workbench before turning to him. “You weren’t invited.”
“I’m always invited,” he says, reaching for one of the coffees.
“Unfortunately.”
Logan takes one from the tray. “Same thing as every year?”
“Dinner, drinks and Mom pretending she doesn’t care whether everyone wears the matching pajamas,” Rory explains.
“I’m not wearing them,” I tell her.
She snorts. “You say that every year.”
“And every year, you somehow end up in them,” Logan adds before taking a sip of his coffee.
Fucking family.
Rory turns her attention back to me. “Blair’s coming, obviously?”
“Obviously,” I answer without thinking.
Shit.
I should probably ask my girlfriend before volunteering her to spend Christmas Eve with my entire fucking family.
Three pairs of eyes land on me.
