Chapter 6
Finn
Dinner’s almost over, and I’ve forgotten most of what I ate.
Theo’s small hand fits into mine, fingers interlocked as if we’ve done this a hundred times before.
Only we haven’t, and I’ve got no business noticing how soft her palm is.
Or how my thumb keeps circling in a quiet rhythm, because I don’t want to stop.
She’s sitting opposite me, perfectly poised and composed. There’s a tension in her hand. Not resistance, more alertness. And her pulse kicks against my fingertips.
This should be easy. Hold hands, smile for the camera, sell the illusion.
I’ve done far worse for a lot less. But this feels different.
She feels different. She curls her fingers against mine, giving me permission one breath at a time, and that rattles me more than if she’d giggled and leaned in with her tits out.
Theo MacMickin is a mystery. Tight smile, calm voice.
But the second she talked about her family, she dropped her eyes like the words weighed too much.
Said ‘Elie’ as if it wasn’t worth remembering.
I know what it sounds like when someone skips over the worst parts. I’ve been doing it my whole life.
She hands over puzzle pieces one at a time, and I want the full picture.
I’d tried to throw her off with jokes and cheek, but she never missed a beat.
She’s smart. Scarily smart. The way she watched me when I laughed, as if she was filing it away for future reference.
And I’ve got the sneaking suspicion she’s hiding something.
Not scandal-hiding, not my kind of hiding.
But as if the reason she’s so contained is that she’s spent years building that armour.
The way she didn’t deny the breakup, only flinched.
And that flinch did things to me. Things that make no sense, because we’re fake.
A limited-time offer with full returns and no emotional repercussions.
And yet I’m trying to decode the story behind one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment.
The old me wouldn’t have noticed. Would’ve clocked the dress, the legs, the mouth, and skipped the small talk.
But I want to know what happened to her.
She’s dressing it up, but the hurt is obvious.
I want to know who broke her so I can break him.
And why she still looks like she’s trying to tape the pieces back together in silence.
Am I staring? Yeah. I should stop.
But…God, those lips.
Red as a fuck-you. Her top lip has a natural dip. I keep wondering what she tastes like. How long she’d let me kiss her before she pulled away.
Before I could mess it up.
Cause that’s what I do.
A waitress places the bowl between us with a smile that lingers a tad too long on our hands. I don’t let go.
Cranachan. Berries bleeding into cream, oats, whisky, honey, and one of those sugar shards stuck on top.
‘One dessert.’ I nod at it. ‘Suppose we share?’
‘Of course.’ She blinks slowly. ‘For the photos.’
‘It’s what lovers do. Very cutesy couple-core.’
She gives me a look so flat it could iron a shirt, but inches a little closer. I take the spoon and scoop a bite, making a show of it. My hand is controlled. My thoughts aren’t.
‘Open up,’ I say.
‘Don’t you dare—’
But I already am daring, spoon held out like a challenge.
And she…leans in.
Every nerve in my body is tuned to the moment she parts her lips. I don’t mean to stare. I honestly don’t. But her bottom lip cushions the spoon – full and shaped like a problem I’d fucking love to have – then the top seals over it. She closes her eyes and draws back slowly until it’s clean.
And I swear the entire restaurant blurs around her.
Holy shit.
I rock forward in my seat, refusing to picture what I’m already halfway hard for. I could devour this whole bloody dessert, and it’d do fuck all for the throb firing south every time she moves her cherry-painted, fuckable lips. This wasn’t for the camera. This was real.
And if I didn’t know it better, I’d think this was for me.
But that’s impossible. This is Theo. List girl. Little Miss Professional. This wasn’t in her brief.
Neither was my semi, come to think of it.
‘Good?’ Meaningless question, but I need to say something.
‘Shockingly good.’ She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and licks it off.
My brain doesn’t recover, it barely holds together as I try not to imagine what else I could feed her slowly and—
She takes the spoon from my hand and dips it into the cream.
‘Your turn.’ She holds it up as if it’s nothing, but her cheeks give her away. Doesn’t matter how calm her voice is. Her skin’s telling the truth. It’s adorable.
I close the distance, tongue darting out to catch the tip. Then I give it a few lazy sweeps through the cream. Am I laying it on thick? Sure. But she started it.
Theo’s eyes don’t waver, but her pupils dilate and the breath she draws trembles at the edges. The line between us moves in the half-second her lashes lower. In the sudden knowledge that if I wanted to kiss her right now, I wouldn’t have to fake a damn thing.
That’s insane. We’re not dating. This is fake. Fuck’s sake, it’s fake. Not to speak of the fact she probably thinks I’m an arse with serious impulse control issues. And she’d be a hundred per cent right.
It’s supposed to be a fake date, not foreplay.
Theo sets the spoon down. ‘Photos done.’
‘Aye.’ My voice’s gone husky.
She dabs her lower lip with her napkin, nodding.
I need a distraction, so I ask, ‘What are you doing after?’
‘Nothing even remotely exciting. Probably a bit of Great British Bake Off and that’s it.’
‘Slippery slope. I’ve heard sponge cake’s a gateway drug.’
She laughs, and it lands deep, hot, and far too fucking welcome.
I cock my head, and let the smile go full tilt. ‘You’re too young and beautiful to spend Saturday nights alone on the couch.’
She arches a brow, her mouth curving just a little. ‘Firstly, save the sweet talk. Secondly, I’m not alone.’
For a second, searing rage spears through me, and I hate whoever gets to sit beside her. Some faceless prick in chinos. Probably scrolls through his phone while she talks. ‘Hope he appreciates you sharing your cake show.’
‘He mostly sleeps through it.’
I sit back, keep the grin where it is. What kind of impotent, boring twat sleeps on a couch next to a stunner like Theo?
‘Elvis. My cat,’ she says. ‘Prefers canned tuna to Victoria sponge.’
Relief flares and I chuckle.
In about half an hour, after this pretend dinner date, I’ll drop her off outside her flat in Leith. Then it’s back to Duncraig. Video game on, shouting at teenagers. Maybe a wank. Definitely a wank. And bed.
I turned twenty-four last month. My Saturday nights weren’t meant to fizzle out before the bingo crowd went home. A few weeks ago, I’d have been out. Found someone and kept the night going until the moans drowned everything else out for a bit.
Can’t do that under this spotlight. Now there are cameras and people sniffing for scandal. And sure, that’s part of it. But the real kicker?
I don’t want to.
I could pull. Easily. All it’d take is one look, one line. But the thought makes my skin go tight. Feels wrong in a way that I don’t bother unpacking.
Doesn’t mean I want to sit on that lumpy-arse couch either, controller in hand, stewing over the things I should’ve said to a man who’s six feet under and should’ve heard them. Even if I spent years convincing myself he didn’t deserve to.
I glance at Theo. Still perched there like she belongs in a still life. Dark hair neat, shoulders square, no clue how much I want to ask her to stay.
So I aim for casual. ‘There’s a small party here in Edinburgh. Low-key, the sister of a teammate turning thirty. You should come.’
She barely looks at me. ‘No, thanks.’
I flash a grin. ‘Fair. You and your cat got big plans. Tuna and telly, living the dream.’
Still nothing.
I wait. Then I push, because apparently I’m not done humiliating myself. ‘Might be good for optics. Public-ish. Bit of strategic hand-holding. You know. For the cameras.’
She side-eyes me. ‘Did you rehearse that?’
‘Naw. I always improvise my charm.’
Another pause. Then she sighs, and I beam, because that sound means she’s coming with me.
‘Will there be group sex, Finn?’
‘Probably not. But no promises,’ I say, half in love with the way she tries not to smile.
Dammit. I enjoy hanging out with Theo more than I enjoy hanging out with anyone else. Too bad I’m wired wrong for good things like this.