Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JAMIE
I fall back onto my bed, still fully clothed, and stare up at the ceiling. My entire body aches, like I’ve somehow managed to cram a week’s worth of graft into a single day. And yet my mind refuses to settle. It keeps replaying everything—the success of the beer garden’s opening event, the busy crowds, the laughter and music, all those smiling faces. Aye, it was a bloody good night.
But that’s not what’s stealing all my brainpower right now, is it?
No, there’s only one moment I can’t stop thinking about.
The kiss.
Christ above. That kiss.
One second Maisie and I were having a blazing row in the garage, and the next... well, I’m still not entirely sure who moved first. Did she lean in? Did I? Doesn’t matter now. All I know is that suddenly my hands were round her waist, her mouth was on mine, and I was done for. She’d tasted of raspberry lip gloss and something else too. Something purely her .
The friction between us had been enough to tear my sanity in two. My cock had hardened almost instantly, straining against my jeans like they’d suddenly become two sizes smaller. But it wasn’t just the pressure or the movement that unravelled me. It was the heat. It radiated through every layer of fabric between us, until it felt like my skin might catch fire just from being near her. Then she let out this sound—a soft little moan that was pure sin wrapped up in silk—and I swear I nearly lost it on the spot.
Almost before I knew what I was doing, I had her pressed against the wall and was grinding against her, deepening our kiss, gripping her tight just to keep from flying apart. Even through my burning desire, I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she felt in my hands. How perfectly she fit against me, like she belonged there.
Then she shifted—just slightly—but fuck , it was enough to hit all the right spots at once. My world tilted dangerously on its axis as white-hot pleasure spiked through me so sharply I nearly saw stars. For one terrifying second I thought I’d embarrass myself completely and come undone right there in the garage like some horny teenager. And truthfully? Had it happened, I wouldn’t have given a damn.
My body responds to the memory, and I squirm, adjusting myself down there.
But just as things had been really heating up in that garage, we heard someone shouting from the beer garden, and Maisie bolted quicker than a ewe from a sheepdog. Just like that—gone.
I wanted to go after her. Hell, every fibre of me screamed to go. But someone was hollering my name, and since the beer garden is my responsibility, I couldn’t exactly pretend not to hear.
Anyway, I had to linger in that garage for a few minutes to cool off. Strolling back into the beer garden while pitching a tent in my jeans wasn’t exactly the triumphant ending to the opening event I’d envisioned. I had to breathe deeply and recite my times tables until I could face people again.
After that, the rest of the evening passed in a blur: pulling pints, clearing glasses, smiling at jokes I wasn’t really listening to. Even after we finally closed, my family kept me up for ages, going on and on about how proud they were of me. Any other time, I’d have been chuffed to hear that—though I’d have rather shaved my hair than admit that to them. Tonight, though, I just couldn’t focus. My head had been somewhere else entirely.
Or rather: with someone else entirely.
I grab my phone from beside me and check the time: 12:54 a.m. Way too late to pop over to the Pheasant, even though part of me wants to. We need to talk about what happened. Don’t we? I mean, you can’t just kiss someone like that and then not discuss it afterwards. Can you?
Groaning loudly, I drag myself off my bed and collapse into the chair at my desk instead. There’s only one thing for it: Highland Legacy . As soon as the familiar loading screen appears on my monitor, some of today’s tension eases from my shoulders.
This is what I do when life turns messy: log in, kill some monsters, forget about reality for a while.
I spend a few minutes flicking through the available quests, searching for something that looks suitably mind-numbing. Then a notification pops up in the corner of my screen: SassyLassie has logged in .
What are the odds? I’ve barely touched the game in weeks, and she’s been completely MIA. Yet here we are, online at the exact same time.
LochNLoad
Hey! Where have you been? I was starting to worry!
A pause stretches out—so long that I begin to think she might not answer—until at last her reply comes through.
SassyLassie
Just clearing my head. Don’t want to chat right now.
Okay then, not exactly warm or welcoming, but fair enough. Everyone has their off days.
Still, desperate times call for desperate measures.
LochNLoad
Oh? Go on! It’s been ages since we talked, and I could use a distraction after the day I’ve had.
Her response comes quicker this time, and colder too.
SassyLassie
I’d rather just do a solo quest tonight.
When I first started gaming with SassyLassie, she was always upbeat and full of banter. But this is the first time she’s been online in ages, and even before she disappeared, there was that time she wouldn’t talk to me and she let me get annihilated by that wraith. There must be something going on in her real life, but I’ve no idea what since we rarely talk about personal stuff when we play.
But tonight I’m desperate to chat—because who else am I supposed talk about Maisie with? It certainly won’t be anyone in Bannock, not unless I fancy the whole town knowing by sunrise. But an online gamer who doesn’t even know my real name? Sure, I can talk with her.
LochNLoad
Please? I kissed this girl today and I’m losing my mind trying to make sense of it. There’s no one here I can talk to who won’t blab within seconds. But you’re different. You’re... safe.
Her reply takes longer this time, and when it comes through, it bruises more than expected.
SassyLassie
Not in the mood to play agony aunt tonight.
Ouch.
LochNLoad
All right. Anything I can say to change your mind?
SassyLassie
I said no. This was a mistake. I’m going.
LochNLoad
Wait, what?!
SassyLassie
Lochie, if you need to talk to someone that badly, pour your heart out to Bruce.
My fingers pause above the keys. Bruce? My Bruce? As in, Lewis and Iona’s dog?
A cold prickle crawls across my skin. Did I ever tell Sass his name? Because I don’t remember doing that. In fact, I’m almost certain I didn’t.
Before I can question her about this, a notification pops up: SassyLassie has logged off .
A knot twisting in my stomach, I search our in-game chat history for the word “Bruce”. Nothing comes up. Maybe I mentioned him in the app we use to arrange gaming sessions? But no, a search there doesn’t yield any results either. Which begs the question: how the hell does Sass know his name?
All those late-night conversations, the easy banter, the trust... hell, my confession about my “secret kink”...
On the drive back from the distillery, Maisie had teasingly suggested SassyLassie might really be some creepy balding middle-aged bloke in a stained vest and boxers. At the time I’d paid her no notice, but... what if she was right?
Who the fuck have I been talking to all this time? And how the hell do they know things about me I’ve never shared?