“So he’s chucking you out,” Lucy said from the doorway as Eve looked politely around the space. “Have you pissed him off that badly?”

Eve tried not to be intimidated by the other woman’s impassive expression or horrifyingly mature work boots. (Plain black. Not even a jaunty yellow stitch. Not even a few hearts and daisies doodled in fluorescent highlighter. Good Lord.)

“No comment,” Eve said, and flicked a glance at Jacob, who stood broodingly in the corner. She wasn’t sure what their party line was, since she couldn’t exactly tell his aunt he’d licked her out on a sofa and didn’t trust himself not to do it again.

Unfortunately for her, Jacob didn’t appear to be listening to the conversation. He continued to brood broodily in silence.

“I suppose it can’t be that bad,” Lucy said. “He’d be making a hell of a lot more noise if you’d annoyed him.”

“Or perhaps I’ve annoyed him so much that he’s utterly run out of fury.”

Lucy’s gaze flicked sharply to Eve’s, those frosty eyes narrowed. They studied Eve for one palm-sweating second, as if searching her expression for some sort of mockery or judgment. But she must not have found any, because after a moment, the coldness drained right out of her, replaced by an amused smirk. “Maybe. How are you finding it, then? The job?”

“Jacob thinks he’s working me too hard.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “He has grand ideas about labor and human rights.”

In the corner, Jacob blinked. “Are you talking about me?”

“Darling,” Eve said, “would we ever? Go on, get back to brooding.”

He grunted and recommenced staring at the wall. Apparently, he’d decided to actually follow Eve’s directive. Amazing. Well, one mustn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I’ve been enjoying it,” she said to Lucy. “I like cooking for people.” Eve had always known that, of course—but it had never occurred to her that some things could be even more rewarding on a professional basis. Now, she actually looked forward to work every morning; looked forward to taking care of people not just because she had nothing better to do, but because it was her job. She’d spent days waiting for that feeling to fade.

It was only getting stronger.

“I think,” she said out loud, “that making people happy sort of—fuels me. I like working hard to give them things. I like seeing them enjoy those things. It’s kindness and performance and creation all at once.”

“Hm,” Lucy murmured, looking pleased. “So you’re only moving out to get away from Jacob, then.”

“Actually,” Eve joked back, “he’s trying to get away from me.”

At which point, Jacob’s distant gaze snapped toward Eve. “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “Excuse me, Aunt Lucy. I just need to . . .” His voice trailed off, possibly because he couldn’t figure out how to say, I just need to grab Eve by the hand and drag her off into this cupboard. Which is exactly what he did.