Page 97 of You, As You Are

A low sound of protest rumbled from Iain’s chest by her shoulder.

“Excellent. We have a guide who explains constellations and some of the old tales associated with them. If you’d like to join us, we meet at the information centre at ten-fifteen.”

* Yes

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

IAIN

“Is that a blanket?”

“Ten points to Moss.” Iain dropped the folded wool into his rucksack, trying not to get any dirt upon the bed.Singular.Because they’d been tricked once again.

He wasn’t sure if he would thank Vera or not when he saw her after this for being the likely orchestrator of this scheme. Having Maisie in his bed was something he wanted more and more, but not if it wasn’t her choice.

Her unamused stare burned into the back of his head. “Ha. Ha. Where did you get it?”

“Always keep one in my car.” He tugged up the zip to close the backpack, stuffing everything necessary into his so Maisie didn’t need to carry anything.

“You’re a very well-prepared man,” she said.

Could she tell that to the rest of his life? Maybe that way he could sort his shit out.

“Here—” Out of nowhere Maisie thrust a thermos into his periphery. “Hot chocolate.”

Iain took the lidded travel mug and stared at it. He’d wondered what the tinkling of metal-on-metal had been whilst he’d been changing into his outdoor garb in the bathroom –which had been difficult in itself. The tiled space was clearly not designed for a man of his dimensions.

The pleasant smile on Maisie’s lips when he edged his gaze to her gradually faded. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink hot chocolate?”

Withholding his guilty grimace was a struggle. “Not usually.”

Her jaw hung. “That’s it.” Maisie threw up her hands. “This friendship is over. I don’t claim you anymore.”

Iain watched her storm to the sofa chair with her coat draped across it, a smirk forming on his lips. “I didn’t realise you’d claimed me before.”

“Ted!” Maisie barked, her cheeks looking rather coloured. “Let’s go.”

Following to pull on his boots, Iain laughed at how she tried to change the subject. He wouldn’t mind being claimed by Maisie Moss at all. In fact, he wondered how she’d do it. He wouldn’t object to a few nail scratches down his back in the throes of passion – throes of passion that he had no right imagining.

Ted trotted out from his bed that’d taken up almost as much space in the car as Maisie and Iain’s things combined.

“We’re leaving Ted,” he said.

Maisie paused the motion of putting on her coat, her arms extended at awkward angles. “No Ted?”

“Unless you’re volunteering to clean him off in the dark?”

She stuffed her arms in her sleeves and bent to pat Ted’s head. “Sorry, baby.”

Iain rolled his eyes at her new name for his pet. Some days he could swear that his dog preferred her over him, especially when Ted looked up at her with such massive eyes, sitting perfectly. It was bewitchment, definitely. Something that Iain felt under the spell of, too, when Maisie straightened and flipped her curlsback into place. The urge to wrap them around his fist was uncalled for and startled him into finding his shoes.

His hamstrings stretched when he bent to tie up his boots and the burn wasn’t exactly pleasant. Ever since meeting Maisie, he seemed to be missing his rugby team’s training sessions left, right, and centre. He should’ve been there tonight, but fate and thirteen meddling pensioners had a different plan.

Maisie was organised in her routine of pulling on her boots, then her gloves, and lastly her fuzzy ear warmers. Iain looked at the leggings, then the single layer of a t-shirt under where she zipped up her coat.

His eye narrowed. “Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?”

She shrugged him off. “I’ll be fine.”

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