“What you should have done was taken her out this morning and bought her her own pair of boots,” she sasses. I swallow a laugh at the ease with which she scolds him. “I don’t think I’d get enough use out of a pair of my own.” She gapes at me, offended. “Nonsense.” Flitting her eyes to her grandson, she adds, “Tell me she’ll be here often. Don’t you tease me, boy.” “Don’t look at me. It’s Anna you should be threatening.” Brody’s fingers slip beneath the bottom hem of my jacket, tracing the waistband of my leggings. The shiver that racks through me is immediate, and one sneaking glance up at him
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