Page 69 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
I stared at Kit’s message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.Keep a close eye on him.The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders like a physical thing. A week ago, I would have laughed, but now, here I was, pretendingto be Rory Thorne’s boyfriend in the Scottish Highlands, my fingers itching to reassure his brother that it wasn’t just him in Rory’s corner.
The cottage was quaint—exposed beams and stone hearth. The living room had that unlived-in quality of a holiday rental, with generic landscapes on the walls.
I checked my watch, and my stomach knotted. Earlier, we’d sat down and Rory had started going through some of what he still knew about the key players of the Thorne Pack. Now, in forty-five minutes, I’d meet them at dinner. I’d faced murderers and monsters, but meeting Rory’s estranged family made me uneasy. Perhaps because I knew how much it mattered to him, despite his cavalier attitude.
My phone buzzed. Mum’s name flashed on the screen. I glanced at the ceiling—Rory was still showering upstairs. I was safe to take the call.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Theodore! How are you, darling?” Her tone suggested she hadn’t heard from me in months, not days.
“I’m all good, Ma. I know I said I’d call you when we arrived yesterday, but we actually had to stop over somewhere. We only got to Scotland today.”
“Did my car get you there alright?”
“Yeah, smooth sailing. Thank you again.”
A pause. “And how’s George?”
My stomach lurched. I hadn’texplicitlymentioned George’s name when I’d asked to borrow her car, but she’d assumed, as he’d joined me on a few hiking trips before.
“Actually…” I started, not entirely sure what I was going to say. “I’m not up here with George.”
A long silence, then… “Theodore James Maxwell! Are you telling me you’re on some romantic getaway and you didn’t tell your own mother?”
The accusation in her voice made me wince. But perhaps it was easier if I went along with this, then tell her it had fizzled out.
“Something like that.”
She squeaked—an actual squeak of delight. “Tell me about her! What’s she like?”
I found myself thinking of golden hair catching sunlight, of quick wit and infectious laughter. “They’re… brilliant. Funny. Brave to the point of recklessness sometimes. Always says exactly what they’re thinking.”
“Oh, Theodore, I’m so pleased! You know I’ve been hoping you’d find someone special. Maybe I’ll finally get those grandchildren I’ve been pestering you about.”
The image slammed into me—Rory surrounded by two small children, running circles around him in some sun-drenched garden. The sound that escaped my throat was somewhere between a choke and a laugh.
The shower shut off upstairs.
“Listen, Ma, I’ve got to go—”
“Of course, of course! I won’t bother you again. Just… call me when you’re back in London, yeah? I’m so happy for you, love.”
I fought to calm my racing heart as floorboards creaked above me.
“Hey, Teddy Bear,” Rory called down. “I forgot my towel. It’s in my luggage.”
I sighed, but found myself rifling through his chaotically packed suitcase anyway, still sprawled across the living room. Freddy snapped his razor-sharp teeth at me, as if guarding Rory’s toothbrush and underwear.
Upstairs, the bathroom door was closed, steam escaping through the gaps.
I knocked twice. “Delivery service.”
The door cracked open just enough for Rory’s damp face to appear, blonde hair darkened and plastered to his forehead. Cheeks flushed, a scattering of droplets shimmered in his eyelashes.
“My hero,” he said, extending one bare arm.
I handed him the towel, but the door shifted slightly wider. My eyes betrayed me, dropping downward before I could stop them. I caught a glimpse of wet thigh, the sharp curve of his hip, before Rory deftly adjusted his position behindthe door.
