Page 30 of Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)
“Not yet,” I admit, and it’s like ashes on my tongue. “Soon.”
Her smile is soft, without a hint of the mockery she usually aims my way. Not for the last week, though. Guess I owe Jake Myers one. If not for him, Mac and I would never have gone out for lunch and sorted shit out. And there’s no way I would’ve asked her here or shared my future plans with her.
Or be fighting a losing battle to do the right thing tonight and go sleep in the car.
Chapter Nine
Mackenzie
When we got back from the village, Will showed me the shower block so I could get ready, and I haven’t seen him since.
But his rucksack is still on the sofa bed. Does that mean he plans on sleeping in here tonight? The prospect thrills me far more than it should, consideringsleepingisn’t a euphemism for anything more exciting.
Unfortunately.
I did not just think that.
There’s a knock on the door before Will opens it and steps inside.
“You look nice.” His forehead creases, as though the compliment slipped out without him meaning it to, and I grin at him. I don’t remember him ever saying anything like that to me before, and I kind of love it. Although I’m only wearing jeans, I did splash out on a cute top that I picked up for a bargain from the market. But that’s not why his comment sends flutters through me. For some crazy reason, I treated myself to some horrifically expensive lingerie, and it’s soft and silky and deliciously decadent against my skin.
He’s not admiring your knickers, Mac.
Well, duh. Obviously. And he’s not going to see them, either. I didn’t buy them for his benefit, after all.
You spent an arm, leg, and kidney on undies that no one but you will ever see?
Why am I even having this debate? Ineednew underwear, and I’ve never had such gorgeous stuff before. So what if my unaccustomed extravagance just happened to coincide with this weekend away with him?
One little indulgence isn’t going to break the bank.After all, I’m lucky enough not to be on a shoestring budget like so many of my friends, who have massive debts hanging over their heads. My Uni tuition is paid by bursary from an educational trust of Mum’s former work.
Just one more guilt-laden brick as to why I can’t afford to fail.
No thinking about that tonight.
“So do you.” He looks way more than nice in the short-sleeved shirt that stretches across his impressive shoulders and shows off his gorgeous biceps.Stop drooling, Mac.I ignore my good advice and my gaze drifts over his black jeans, which wrap around his thighs like an indecent embrace.
I gulp and pretend to search for my phone—which is right in front of me on the sofa—so he can’t see my face. Who knew being platonic was such hard work?
“Don’t forget the beer,” I tell him, which is a dumb thing to say but is the only thing I can think of to break the silence that followed my comment.
That followed you checking him out, you mean. He must’ve noticed. I swallow a groan and briefly squeeze my eyes shut.Please don’t call me out on it.
He picks up the beer, and we leave. The lake and woodland beyond look ridiculously romantic in the soft twilight that bathes everything in an ethereal glow. My fingers itch to slide between his. Friends hold hands, don’t they?
Not unless they’re five years old…
I push my thumbs into my jeans pockets, just to be the safe side. Best not to tempt fate. What’d happen if we ended up kissing tonight? There’d be no chance of Dad interrupting us mid-smooch.
What do I even mean by that? We don’t need a chaperone to keep our hands to ourselves.
As we head toward the lodge, the smoky aroma of cooking food wafts on the breeze. There’s a partially enclosed garden next to the building, where a couple of guys are standing by the barbecue. They turn and greet us as we stroll up to them.
“You’ve already met Adam,” Will says as he dumps the beer on a garden bench. “And this one’s Mike.”
Mike grins. “You want a beer?”
“Sure.” I take one as Lucinda joins us and places a large bowl of potato salad on the table before she grabs a bottle of water.
