Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters, #3)

by Talia Hibbert

Her calling? Eve wasn’t the sort of woman who had callings.

She used to reach, once upon a time. But it hurt so terribly to fall.

She wanted to be more than this. She really, really did. She just didn’t know how.

She was supposed to wilt with guilt under the mighty power of his voice, but all she did was sigh, “Oh, thank goodness you’re not a dog.”

Omg HAHAAHAH

“Would it take your mind off things if I showed you my tits?” she asked out of the blue.

“A runner?” she repeated with all the righteous outrage of a woman who had totally been moments away from running. “Never.”

Turned out his arse was broken, too. That’s what it felt like, anyway. “Your arse is what?” “Stop reading my thoughts.” With his left hand, he fumbled for his glasses. “I’m not reading your thoughts! You’re speaking out loud, genius.”

For fuck’s sake, she didn’t even want this job. What in God’s name had she been thinking?! That everyone assuming you’re useless and incapable is starting to get old. Hm. Well. There was that.

about how her friends never liked her quite as much as she liked them. How they dropped her as soon as someone better came along, or pushed her to the edge of the circle when space was tight, or generally treated her as optional rather than vital.

“Look,” he said, the word a rasp. “There are many ways to fail—” “Trust me, I’m aware.” “And very few of them are actually controllable. Life has too many moving parts.” He managed to sound resentful of the very nature of human existence, which Eve found impressive despite herself. “So when it comes to this job, and failing, or succeeding, there’s really only one thing you can promise me. And,” he added sharply, “you will promise.” “What?” His response couldn’t be more surprising if he’d delivered it while butt naked and standing on his head. “Try for me, Eve. That’s all. Just try.”

he decided that whatever had brought this particular princess into his life must be far worse, because . . . “What sentient human person would voluntarily sleep on that sofa bed? It’s practically springless.”

Pleseeeeee ahahahhhah

He shouldn’t have noticed that. Just like he shouldn’t notice the shape of her beneath that T-shirt, or the little glances she flicked up at him now, as if she was noticing things about him, too. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

AAAAAA

Jacob set his jaw. He didn’t appreciate Spock comments. He’d received a lot of them over his lifetime, and he knew exactly what they were supposed to imply, and they made him want to throttle people before sitting them down for a long and detailed chat on why the world would be a much better place if they stopped congratulating themselves on being normal and started to accept that there were countless different normals, and Jacob’s kind was just as fine as everyone else’s.

At some point during the conversation, his face had become a rigid mask of awkwardness. She had no idea why. “You . . . Good food.” Dear God, he’d stopped using verbs.

“Eve,” he said, “everything about you matters.” And then he briefly but seriously considered ripping out his own tongue.

When it came to her appearance, Eve had long since learned that giving a shit about others’ opinions meant slipping under an ocean of negativity. So she’d decided a while back that she was beautiful, and her body was lovely, and she would accept no other judgment on the subject.

Eve. It sounds like your dream broke, and you’ve been picking up shattered pieces and blaming yourself when your hands bleed.”

Sometimes, being convenient instead of real was exhausting. So maybe, from now on, she’d stop.

Bloody shitting hell. He was in love with her. How goddamn inconvenient.

The minute they bounced free, he would spring into action and . . . put them back in? No, that didn’t seem right.

“Your abilities,” he said slowly, “lie in the places people usually overlook. So you’ve been convinced you don’t have any at all. But you’re smart, and you’re capable, and if people struggle to see that, it’s their problem, not yours.”

My favorite quote of the book