Page 129 of You, As You Are

Iain made his excuses to his team manager who’d given him a look that saw right through him – word about Maisie had spread through his teammates and there were only two culprits to blame – then ducked out of the clubhouse into the car park.

As soon as time was called, the crowd had come onto the field, and Maisie – in a contrasting combination of hiking boots and a dress under her raincoat – had powered across the beaten-up grass straight for him. She hadn’t cared that he was covered in mud, light rain washing away beads of sweat, when she’d wrapped her arms around him and clung on tight. All her praises, saying how proud she was in his ear that rung with adrenaline, went straight to soften the deepest centre of him.

It hadn’t been an important game; if they kept on winning, they’d have two more months before the league final for their division; but Iain had heard her cheering for eighty minutes as though they were already there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his name called from the stands. His ex-fiancé rarely turned up to any of his games, since they were usually all through winter in the cold and wet, and he didn’t have much of anyone else to cheer him on, either.

He skirted a line of cars in the cramped car park to find Maisie waiting by his. She’d worn blues today – his team colour – and though he’d nicknamed herDaffy,Iain didn’t want to see any other colour on her now or ever again.

“Hey gorgeous.”

She spun a half-circle and met his eyes, her cheeks instantly red. Suspicious eyes narrowed. “You’re on a high from winning,” she said almost accusingly, as if he couldn’t think she was so beautiful.

“Not as much as I am for seeing you here.” Iain dropped his bag full of gear five steps away and didn’t stop until his palm slidaround her neck. Her breath hitched and held, and he backed her up against his car without a care for setting off the alarm. It blared around them and Maisie squealed, giggling.

“Iain!” Her palms pressed against his stomach.

“There’s no one around. Everyone’s inside celebrating.” And they’d all seen her jump into his arms on the field. No one would bat an eyelid at finding them like this.

Maisie tipped her head back against the window, angling her chin up and her hips forwards like she sought attention from every area of him. “Shouldn’t you be as well?” she said silkily, which only made it even clearer to Iain that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“I’d rather celebrate with you.”

He waited for the tiny signal of her wetting her lips before he kissed her, pressing his solid body into her soft one. She rolled her hips and ground herself against the ridge forming in his dress trousers, practically purring when he flicked his tongue into her mouth.

“Shi—it, Daffy,” he panted, his neck hot under his collar. Only Maisie in all her soft, sweet, sensuality could get him halfway to rock hard in the middle of a car park.

Someone who’d probably come to see what the commotion of the car alarm was all about wolf-whistled from back towards the clubhouse.

Maisie pulled her lips from his, curling her fingers into his jacket’s lapels. Her breaths rushed in and out. “Could we leave before I drop to my knees right here?”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Iain grabbed both of her hips. “If anyone is getting down on their knees, Daffy,” he said warningly, “it’s me.” The flash in her eyes approved. He lightly smacked the side of her arse, pressed a button on the key fob in his pocket, and opened her door.

She hopped in without even having to be asked.

* Sweetheart

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

IAIN

“Your house is very … cute.”

Iain dropped his kit bag inside his front door as much as his over-excited dog would allow. Ted barely gave them two seconds before he brought them a toy each – a stuffed watermelon slice for Maisie and some half-dead goose for him.

“Two women lived here before me,” he said, throwing aside the unfortunate, discoloured creature with one foot hanging off. “I haven’t bothered to change any of the decorations.”

Eyes low and wary of her reaction to his pint-sized house, Iain watched Maisie step through his living room. “It’s giving ‘cosy cottage core’,” she said with a sweetness to her smile.

He blinked. “Cottagewhat?”

“Core. It’s like … never mind. It’s cute.”

You’re cutesprang to mind, watching her take in every corner of his space. He took off his suit jacket and dropped it on the sofa.

With the way that things had happened, Maisie hadn’t ever been to his house until now. He wasn’t exactly proud of it; the downstairs was one conjoined room that was so small he had to sidestep in most places. He owned one sofa, one coffee table,one television. The ceiling was cracked in places and every other month he had to reseal around the windows to keep out the rain.

But … he supposed that Maisie was right. If he let himself look with unclouded eyes, then the muted creams and raw wood furniture was cosy. He liked the no-frills simplicity of jute rugs and rattan baskets and the easy clean-up of hardwood floors.

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