Page 53 of You, As You Are

Vera pressed her palm to her rosy cheek. “Oh, lovely, you didn’t have to.”

Iain’s hands retreated to the pockets of his nicer looking black chinos. “It’s not much.”

Tearing through some tissue paper, Vera unfolded the wavy patterned scarf in various shades of cream, rose, and a palebrown. He should’ve been watching her reaction, but he couldn’t quite drag his focus away from Maisie: the softening of her eyes, the flick of a smile widening her lips.

“It’s beautiful,” Vera gushed, feeling over the soft interwoven yarn. “Where did you find it?”

“Just a local crochet … person,” he said. “No one you’d know.”

“Diolch, Iain. You didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now—” Vera gave him a look that meant business. “We’ve heard all about how you asked our Maisie here out for a date.”

His eyes slid to Maisie’s as she rolled her lips together. Two little white bows held her wild red curls away from her face and made her look entirely too innocent in this scheme.

“Have you now?” he said whilst locked on her. Evenhedidn’t know how he’d ‘asked’ Maisie out, so he was intrigued to hear it. They hadn’t talked over a story – which was probably a mistake – and it appeared that Maisie had shoved him off a cliff by not telling him that she’d made something up.

“Yes!” Vera answered and lightly swatted his chest with her good hand. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Iain?”

“Romantic …” he repeated slowly, watching Maisie smile like a goddamn Cheshire cat.

What the hell had she done? Knowing that he’d need to have a word with her soon enough, he shifted one step to her side, running his fingertips down her forearm to her wrist.

Vera sighed dreamily, oblivious to the way he’d made Maisie’s breath hitch. “The roses sounded so lovely.”

“The roses.” That was the first Iain had heard of them. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” he asked Vera but didn’t wait for an answer. His grip tightened on Maisie’s wrist. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to drag her along with him.

There was absolutely nowhere to hide except for outside in the dark and cold. The paving stones of the tiny courtyard smelled like this afternoon’s rain as Iain moved over beneath the string lights, shifting his feet to face Maisie.

He looked her square in the eye. “Roses?”

Maisie shrugged. “I had to get the rumour mill churning.”

“By making up that I gave you roses?”

“You knocked on my door with flowers and chocolate and gave a little speech about how much you liked me and wanted the chance to take me out somewhere, actually.”

Iain stepped in closer, fingers pulsing around her wrist. “I did, did I?”

“You were extremely convincing.”

“Hm. You’re trouble, Daffy.”

Maisie’s brow puckered in offence. “Did you just call me daft?”

“No.”

“It sure sounded like?—”

“Your dress,” he said. “It’s yellow.”

She swiftly glanced down at herself. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Iain cocked his head, unable to stop his gaze from wandering down her neck and the curves of her chest to where a knot held the dress together at the side of her waist. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

* Happy Birthday, Vera

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