Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MAISIE
I set the bold red cocktail on the bar, its rim adorned with a cheeky wee chilli pepper. “Here you go! Highlander’s Secret—local whisky, raspberry liqueur, ginger syrup, and just a touch of chilli for kick.”
The tourist’s eyes light up. “Wow! It’s gorgeous.” She immediately takes out her phone for a photo.
“Feel free to share on that on social media, if you like,” I say casually.
“Absolutely! I’ll tag you.” Picture taken, she raises the glass to her lips. “Oh my God, that’s amazing!”
Pleased, I leave her to enjoy her drink and rinse out the cocktail shaker. Now that my crappy period is over, I’m feeling so much better.
Soon my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s the photo that was just taken, along with the caption:
The Highlander’s Secret: Piping hot, fiery, and oh-so-delicious! @ThePheasantPub #ScottishHighlands #CocktailGoals
I shoot the tourist an appreciative smile, and then a second notification pops up, this time from my gaming chat app.
LochNLoad
Why aren’t koalas considered real bears?
They don’t meet the koalafications.
Bloody Jamie. I roll my eyes but grin all the same. Since he came over to the flat three days ago, we’ve exchanged a few messages back and forth, mostly him checking if I’m okay—with a wee bit of banter thrown in, of course. It’s been nice to see the same kindness in Jamie that I always saw in LochNLoad.
SassyLassie
Groan. Actual groan. Why do I even bother reading these?
Not that I’d ever tell him, but getting these silly messages always makes me smile—just a little.
Scott, one of our regulars and the drummer for Thistle and Reel, sidles up to the bar with his usual easygoing grin.
“Afternoon, Scott. Feeling adventurous enough for a cocktail or will it be the usual?”
He chuckles. “Maybe another time, but I’ll stick to my Glen Garve today.”
“Surprising absolutely no one,” I tease, pouring the whisky and sliding it over to him. “I’m counting on big things from you tomorrow, though. I reckon the music round could be yours for the taking.”
But instead of offering some cocky quip about his encyclopaedic knowledge of obscure eighties hair bands, Scott winces.
“Oh... you haven’t heard?” he says cautiously, as if bracing to break bad news. “The Bannock Hotel is doing a whisky tasting tomorrow night. Kyle from the distillery is running it.”
My chest tightens, but my smile stays firmly in place—practised and pleasant as ever. “Oh,” I say lightly, handing him the card reader to settle up. “Well, guess I’ll see you at next week’s quiz, then.”
Scott offers an apologetic shrug before wandering off with his drink in hand.
Un-bloody-believable. A whisky tasting? On quiz night? Just when I was starting to warm to Jamie, he pulls a stunt like this? Funny how he’s got all the time in the world for koala jokes. But mentioning that he’s sabotaging a Pheasant—no, a Bannock —institution? Not so much.
Monday night has always been quiz night. End of discussion.
Da pushes through the kitchen door, carrying a tray of clean glasses. In a low voice, I tell him the news, expecting a calm shrug and the same level-headed response he’s had to everything Jamie-related recently. Instead, his face clouds, and for once he looks more upset than I am.
“Your maw loved running that quiz.”
“I know, Da.” I reach out and squeeze his shoulder.
“When she passed...” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I couldn’t do it myself. Wasn’t my thing. But when you picked it up again—when you made it yours—I was proud. Still am.” His jaw tightens as he places the tray on the counter with deliberate care. “And now that bloody lad thinks he can—” He breaks off, turning away to gather himself.
I stare at him in stunned silence. Da’s not one for big displays of emotion. Grumbles? Sure. The occasional (or not so occasional) flare of stubbornness? Absolutely. But this? This feels different. Seeing him like this stirs something sharp and fiery in my chest—a mix of protectiveness and simmering rage.
Jamie riling me up is one thing, but upsetting my da? That’s a whole other game entirely.
It’s time for me to have words with him.
“Da, I’m going to pop out for a quick break, okay?”
Moments later, I’m power walking down Main Street towards the Bannock Hotel, fury fuelling every stomp of my boots against the pavement. The sound of laughter drifts from the beer garden, and it grates on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Without hesitating, I push through the main entrance and into reception, aiming for the garden—but stopping when I spot Jamie behind the bar in the snug.
I go in. There are no customers in here—they must all be outside—but Jamie is obviously in the midst of preparing an order for someone. But he spots me coming, and his eyes light up. Oh, he thinks I’m here for a friendly chat? That’s adorable. Time to wipe that smile off his face.
“You absolute arse.” I plant both hands on the counter, leaning in. “A whisky tasting? Tomorrow?”
“Aye. Fancy coming along?” That devilish spark in his eyes. Doesn’t he realise he’s playing with fire? That this time he’s gone too far?
“You know fine well Monday nights are quiz nights!” I jab a finger in his direction, my voice rising. “The quiz is a bloody Bannock institution! You came over to my flat and acted all pally with me, and all the time you were plotting this?”
“Actually,” Emily’s voice cuts through the tension as she appears behind me, arms crossed. “Jamie wanted to do the tasting on Wednesday.”
I turn to her with a frown. “What?”
She raises an eyebrow. “He even planned to call it ‘Whisky Wednesday’, if it became a more regular thing. Quite catchy, don’t you think? But Kyle from the distillery called and asked to change the event to Monday instead. It was Lewis he spoke to since Jamie was out, taking care of you, if I’m not mistaken?” She gives me a pointed look that makes heat creep up my neck. “When Jamie got back, he wasn’t best pleased with Lewis. Got pretty grumpy with him, actually. He knew about your quiz. But it was too late to change things.”
I glance back at Jamie, who’s watching this exchange with maddening calm. “That true?”
He shrugs, offering nothing more than a curt, “Aye.”
Oh. Well... that does change things a bit, not that I’m about to let him off the hook entirely.
“Well,” I huff, straightening up. “You could have bloody told me. A touch of common courtesy wouldn’t kill you.”
Something flickers in Jamie’s jaw—a momentary tightening—and when he speaks, his voice is low and measured. “Well then, Maisie, it’d probably be courteous of me to let you know that I’ve organised a beer and whisky tent for this year’s Highland Games.”
My breath catches in my throat as my temper reignites. “ What? ”
Emily groans audibly behind me. “Jamie, seriously? I was trying to defuse the situation. Did you really think that was the right time—or the best way—to tell Maisie that news?”
“I know what I’m doing.” His eyes remain fixed on mine as he responds to her. “Thanks for your input, Emily, but this is between Maisie and me.”
Emily throws up her hands as though washing herself of the mess entirely. “Fine! Is this ready to go out?” She gestures towards the tray of drinks Jamie has been prepping.
“Aye,” he replies without looking away from me. “Table five.”
With an exasperated sigh, Emily grabs the tray and disappears through the door, heading out to the beer garden.
The moment she’s gone, Jamie moves from behind the bar and rounds it slowly, closing the space between us like a predator stalking its prey. He stops less than a foot away. “You can’t just storm in here and tear strips off me when something doesn’t go your way,” he says. I notice his breathing has quickened ever so slightly.
My heart pounding, I take a half step closer to him. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”
We’re toe-to-toe now. I tilt my chin up defiantly to hold his gaze, the hazel shadowed with irritation but flickering with something deeper: desire, need... something reckless enough to make my heartbeat trip over itself.
His gaze dips briefly—to my mouth—and when it rises again there’s no mistaking what’s about to happen. For one taut second we hover on the edge—then he snaps like a breaking storm.
His mouth crashes onto mine with raw intensity, silencing everything but the roaring wildfire spreading through me. The kiss is fierce and frenzied: all clashing tongues and teeth grazing lips as though we’re both trying to win some unspoken battle neither of us intends to lose.
My fingers tangle into his hair—soft but thick beneath my touch—as his hands grip my waist firmly, heat flaring where he touches me.
For one blissful eternity we’re utterly consumed... until Jamie tears himself away first with a sharp inhale that borders on a growl.
“We can’t argue here,” he mutters hoarsely. His tone is rough-edged—almost feral—as though barely restraining himself from diving back in for more. “It’s unprofessional. A customer might overhear us.”
“Well, where do you suggest we argue then?” I’m practically panting.
“My room.” His voice drops lower, darker. “I can really give you a piece of my mind up there.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
Jamie leads the way and I follow behind, the trek up two flights of stairs giving me ample opportunity to admire the way his jeans hug his arse, taut and infuriatingly perfect, and how his navy polo shirt showcases the lean muscle of his forearms and sexy veins.
When we reach his floor, he holds his door open and stands aside, his body radiating heat as I brush past him. My eyes sweep over the room—an unmade but inviting double bed, cool-looking books on a shelf, gaming equipment on his desk. That’s all I manage to register before the door clicks shut and Jamie spins me around, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss so searing it makes my pulse thunder and rational thought evaporate.
I return Jamie’s kiss with equal fervour, sliding my hands to his arse and giving each cheek a good, hard squeeze. He groans against my mouth, and the sound shoots straight through me, igniting every nerve. The kiss grows more heated, both of us pouring all that pent-up tension into it.
When we finally break apart for air, I waste no time lifting Jamie’s polo, exposing his abs first—taut, with just enough definition to look utterly lickable. A light dusting of dark hair trails from his belly button and disappears beneath his jeans. I tug the polo up and over his head, his chest coming into full view—broad enough to make me swallow hard with a tempting sprinkle of hair across it.
“I heard you’ve been putting in some effort at the gym.” I bite my lip. “It’s paying off.”
I trail my fingers over his chest, exploring each ridge and curve of muscle like I’m following a map leading straight to temptation. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and his hair tickles my palm. My fingers brush over one small, firm nipple, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. Oh? That got a reaction. I do it again—just to see—and sure enough, his body tenses under my touch. I let my hand slide lower, and his abs tighten beneath it. Slowly I follow the faint line of hair below his navel with the tip of one finger, tracing it until it disappears beneath his belt. By the time I reach for the buckle, Jamie is watching me like a man on the brink. And yet when I start to undo it?—
“Wait!” His breaths come fast and shallow. “I don’t want this to be like last time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I . . . want us to take our time.”
Something flutters in my chest. “Oh.”
Jamie’s thumb lightly traces my bottom lip, his eyes searching mine. “Is that okay?”
I nod. His answering smile is tender. He leans back in for another kiss, and this time it’s slower, deeper—and somehow it sends me reeling even more than before.
Eventually his hands glide under my top, warm against my skin, urging me to lift my arms so he can remove it.
I comply without a second thought, heat pooling in my belly as his gaze roams over me, lingering on my lacy bralette. “You look...” His Adam’s apple bobs, his voice husky and roughened with desire. “Delicious.”
My cheeks flame at the rawness of his words, but there’s no time to feel self-conscious. His fingers fumble with the clasp at my back. I reach behind to help him out, unhooking it myself and letting the bra fall silently to the floor.
Jamie drinks me in, his jaw tightening, his gaze shameless and scorching enough to make my skin prickle with awareness. His large hands come up to cup my breasts, the heat of his palms seeping into me, his thumbs starting a slow, teasing rhythm over my nipples. The sensation sends a delicious shiver skimming down my spine, each gentle stroke making it harder to breathe steadily.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, like I’m some kind of rare work of art he can’t look away from. Then he dips down, capturing one taut peak with his mouth. The heat of him—the wet warmth of his tongue against such a sensitive spot—has me gasping before I can stop myself. My fingers tangle reflexively in his hair as he alternates between soft flicks and gentle sucks that make sparks shoot straight to my core.
My other nipple receives the same treatment, then Jamie stands upright again and draws me fully into his arms until we’re pressed together, bare skin to bare skin.
The contact is electric. Everywhere we touch feels alive—his heartbeat thunderous against mine, his warmth seeping into me like molten fire. One strong hand splays across the small of my back while the other cradles my jaw, tipping my face up so our eyes meet.
“You drive me crazy,” he says quietly, the words edged with restraint that only makes them hit harder.
We linger like this for a moment longer, bodies pressed together, before Jamie sinks to his knees. His hands settle on my hips first, strong and steady, then he reaches for the zip of my jeans. The sound of the zip is loud in the quiet room. He tugs the denim down slowly then takes down my thong too.
Jamie’s gaze fixes on my centre, and—just like the other day—he looks like a man utterly mesmerised. Slowly, reverently, he reaches out, his fingertips brushing over me with such gentleness that a shiver races through my entire body. His touch is exploratory and maddeningly light at first—a teasing graze along the seam of me—but when he strokes more deliberately, a low moan escapes me before I can stop it. Pleasure pools deep inside me as his fingers move with an instinctive tenderness that makes my breath hitch.
“My turn now,” I say playfully, though my voice comes out huskier than intended.
The corner of Jamie’s mouth lifts up ever so slightly as he rises to his feet. But when I drop to my knees before him, his smirk fades into something heavier—hungrier. His hands fall loosely to his sides, but tension rolls off him in waves as I undo the button on his jeans. My movements are unhurried; I want him to feel every second of this. With a little tug, I slide both denim and boxers down in one go. Jamie steps out of them, kicking them aside.
I pause for a brief moment, taking him in, and holy hell if the sight doesn’t leave me breathless all over again. It may be the second time I’ve seen him like this, but it’s no less striking. He’s big—thick and long—and impossibly hard already.
But as my eyes trail lower, something else catches my attention, something I didn’t notice last time: a long pale scar running along Jamie’s left thigh. A quiet reminder of what he’s been through.
I reach out instinctively but halt when Jamie stiffens ever so slightly.
“Does it hurt when someone touches it?” My voice is soft.
He shakes his head, though there’s a vulnerability in his expression that tugs at me. “No. It’s... more that I don’t really let anyone see it. It’s not exactly something I show off.”
A faint touch of shyness colours his words—a surprising contrast to his usual demeanour—and it absolutely undoes me.
With deliberate care, I let my fingertips graze the scar lightly, tracing its length with all the tenderness I can muster. Jamie doesn’t flinch or pull away this time. Unable to resist any longer, I lean in and press soft kisses along the scar’s path—gentle pecks that linger just enough to let him feel them fully.
When I lift my lips away, Jamie exhales shakily, but I’m not finished with him yet. I trail kisses upwards, faint brushes of my mouth against his legs, teasing him without rushing towards what waits just above. Finally, when I reach him, I trace a path of kisses along the length of his shaft, lingering here and there until my lips find their way to the head. I press a featherlight against it then take him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around him in slow, deliberate circles. He takes a sharp inhale, then a deep, broken sound rumbles from him—a cross between a groan and a growl.
Before I can sink further, Jamie’s hand tangles in my hair, giving it the gentlest tug to pull me off him. I release him with a soft pop , licking my lips as I glance up through my lashes to meet his gaze. His eyes are molten—dark and hungry—but there’s something else there too, something softer that makes my chest tighten.
“Lass,” he says hoarsely, his voice low and strained. “Are you forgetting the part where we agreed to take this slow? How do you expect me to last when you go and do that?”
Grinning mischievously, I rise to my feet, sliding my hands over his torso as I do. My fingers trace lazy patterns across his skin—an idle swirl over a pec here, a light sweep below his ribs there—and I don’t miss the ripple of tension that rolls through him at my touch.
His gaze flicks down to where my fingertips wander. “Are you... thinking of painting me right now?” His lips twitch into an irresistible smirk. “Wow, you really do like that body-painting scene in Highland Legacy , don’t you?”
“Aye, well...” I tilt my head playfully. “What can I say? Your body is quite the canvas.”
Jamie arches an eyebrow, amusement sharpening his wicked smile as both his hands slide down to cup my backside. He pulls me firmly against him—his hardness pressing insistently against my belly—and the friction draws a soft gasp from me. His fingers dig into the curve of my arse just enough for heat to spark along every nerve ending.
“And what about your power-play kink?” I ask breathlessly, trying not to lose focus under the intensity of his touch. “Is it about you being in control? Or do you secretly prefer being at someone else’s mercy?”
He leans closer until his lips hover just above mine, his grin downright maddening. “A little bit of this,” he murmurs, “and a little bit of that.”
A quiet laugh escapes me at his evasive answer—or maybe just at how impossibly smug he looks while saying it. Going up on tiptoes, so my mouth brushes teasingly close to his ear, I murmur in the sultriest tone I can manage, “All right, then. Let’s say I buy a pair of handcuff, and on the morning of the Highland Games, I lure you into bed just long enough to tie you there.” My teeth graze the shell of his ear lightly. “Do you think anyone would find you before the Games are over?”
Jamie laughs—a low rumble filled with mirth and heat that vibrates through his chest and presses into mine—and bloody hell if it doesn’t send another ache racing through me. “You’re evil,” he says softly, but there’s admiration in his voice too. “Sass.”
The nickname falls from his lips like honey, and hearing it now—in such an intimate moment—floors me more than any smirk or teasing quip ever could.
Before I can even process how much that single syllable unravels me, Jamie bends down and captures my mouth again in another searing kiss that makes thinking impossible.
Without breaking contact with my lips, he scoops me up effortlessly—one arm firm beneath my legs while the other holds fast around my back—and carries me to his bed. He lays me down gently, then I reach out and pull him down onto the mattress beside me.
“Just so you know,” I say softly once our gazes lock again. “My period is over now.”
“Wouldn’t have made a difference if it wasn’t,” Jamie says simply with a shrug. “If you want me, Sass, I’m yours. Anytime.”
The sincerity behind those words is almost too much.
For one long moment neither of us moves nor speaks. We just lie there, gazing at each other as if trying to commit every detail to memory. Then Jamie’s hand begins its exploration, his fingers brushing over the curve of my hip before tracing the dip of my waist. His movements are slow and deliberate, igniting tiny sparks across my skin, goosebumps rising in their wake. I mimic his touch, sliding my hand over the flat plane of his chest where lean muscle shifts beneath smooth, warm skin. My fingers drift through the light dusting of hair there before skimming lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen.
We remain like this for a while, mapping each other with careful caresses, until Jamie’s calloused fingers skim the inside of my thigh, brushing higher and higher—slowly, teasingly. When he reaches the heat between my legs, I gasp softly, my body arching involuntarily towards him. His eyes lock on mine, his mouth curving into the faintest smile as though cataloguing every hitch of my breath, every sound I make.
At last, he murmurs, “Your choice, Maisie.” His voice deepens, rich with promise. “My fingers? My tongue? Or my cock?”
The words alone are enough to set me ablaze. “Your cock,” I whisper. “I want you .”
Jamie nods once then slides a hand down to grip my thigh firmly, drawing it up and over his hip as he positions himself against me, both of us on our sides.
He pushes into me slowly at first, and I’m transfixed by the sight of him disappearing inside me. There’s something primal about it, something raw and achingly beautiful in the way we come together so completely. And being this close, face to face, feeling every shift of him within me, every flex of his muscles beneath my palm...
He presses a hand against the small of my back, guiding our bodies closer still, then the same hand reaches to cup my cheek tenderly. Every nerve in my body hums with awareness as we move together. Each roll of his hips sends delicious waves of heat flooding through me.
Our eyes lock despite the closeness of our bodies, although occasionally his forehead lightly brushes against mine, our breaths mingling in the narrow space between us.
Jamie’s movements grow deeper, more purposeful, the slow drag of him inside me sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. Each thrust builds a sweet and steady tension low in my belly. His thumb brushes a soft rhythm across my cheekbone, grounding me even as I feel like I might come undone completely.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs hoarsely.
The raw sincerity in his words sends a fresh surge of heat through me. I arch into him instinctively, my leg tightening around his waist to pull him closer still. He takes the cue, his pace quickening ever so slightly as his hand trails down to grip the back of my thigh. The angle shifts just enough for him to hit something devastatingly perfect—a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes and a strangled cry spill from my lips.
The pressure builds impossibly high now, cresting like a wave rushing towards its peak. My nails dig into his back as I cling to him, barely able to process anything beyond the spirals of ecstasy curling tighter and tighter inside me. When he rocks into me again—deeper this time—it’s enough to tip me over the edge.
Pleasure crashes over me in relentless waves that leave me trembling and gasping his name. Jamie doesn’t pause; he moves through it with me, his own breaths rough and ragged as my climax draws him closer to his own breaking point.
“Maisie,” he groans at last, burying his face against my neck as one final thrust sends him shuddering with release. His grip on me tightens briefly before softening into something gentler, a tender embrace that keeps us tangled together long after the aftershocks subside.
Afterwards, we lie tangled in the sheets, bodies spent and limbs entwined as though the world beyond this moment doesn’t exist. Nestled against Jamie’s chest, I let the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothe me, his warmth seeping into my skin. His fingers trace lazy circles on my shoulder, and for a fleeting second, I wish I could freeze us here forever—no complications, no rivalries, just this intoxicating closeness.
But reality has a way of creeping in, no matter how tempting it is to linger in fantasy.
Still, while I’m here, in his room, I can’t resist the pull of curiosity and the chance to snoop a little. A person’s space says a lot about them, and I’m itching to take a closer look.
I slip from under his arm as gently as I can. Jamie murmurs a low sound of protest but doesn’t stop me. The cool air kisses my bare skin as I pad across his carpet. My gaze flits over his things: bookshelves crammed with fantasy and sci-fi titles, gadgets and wires on his desk, little glimpses all over into the man who normally hides behind a cheeky grin and his jokes.
And then I spot her: a figurine of a female mage from Highland Legacy , her fiery-red hair strikingly similar to my own avatar in the game. Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips.
I take her down and turn her over in my hands. “That’s a pretty good likeness. You know, I don’t remember you ever mentioning that you have a miniature version of me lying around. Should I be flattered or creeped out?”
Jamie leans up on one elbow, smirking lazily. “Tease all you like. Doesn’t change the fact you’re standing naked in my room right now. I could watch you all day.” His gaze sweeps over me unabashedly.
I roll my eyes then grab my clothes. As much as I’m enjoying this momentary reprieve from the mess outside these walls, it can’t last. Nothing about this can.
“To tell you the truth,” I say as I pull on my jeans, trying to sound casual, “I thought you’d be more upset than you were when you found out I’m SassyLassie. You took it reasonably well.”
Jamie sits up fully now, scrubbing a hand through his tousled hair. “Aye, well... it was a shock. And sure, I was pissed off at first. But then...” He exhales slowly. “It’s kind of amazing when you think about it. All those hours we spent gaming together, and SassyLassie—the girl I was talking to—was right here in Bannock all along? That’s... incredible.”
Something inside me twists painfully at his words, and for one reckless second I almost let myself believe there could be more between us than this fiery push-and-pull. But no amount of chemistry or history can change what we are now: rivals tied too deeply to our competing ambitions.
I tug my top over my head. “Incredible or not,” I say evenly, forcing back any hint of emotion from creeping into my voice, “it doesn’t change anything.”
The lightness in Jamie’s expression falters. “What do you mean?”
“I mean... nothing has changed,” I say firmly but not unkindly. “You and I are still competing for the same customers every day.”
For a moment he looks like he might argue, but then he says nothing at all. His silence pushes me further.
“We’re working against each other constantly,” I continue, trying to keep a lid on everything that’s threatening to bubble up beneath the surface. “You’re setting up collaborations with the distillery and having secret talks with the Highland Games organisers. Meanwhile, I’m putting out videos promoting my pub and creating cocktails that cheekily poke fun at yours. Does any of that sound like it could end with a happily ever after?”
“Maisie...” A plea hides somewhere in that one word.
But now that I’ve started, I keep on going. “The spark between us? The fire? That’s because we’re always clashing heads!” My words come faster now—harder. “Any time we’ve kissed or ended up in bed, it’s started with an argument. We’re only good together because we thrive on winding each other up! That can’t evolve into a normal, healthy romantic relationship.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, really?” Bitterness edges into my tone before I can stop it—not directed at him exactly but at how bloody impossible this situation is. “Let’s be honest about this. It’s just sex, Jamie. Incredible, mind-blowing sex—sure—but nothing more.”
He flinches, and damn it! Watching the hurt flash across his face makes my stomach churn, but what else can I do? I’m not saying this to punish him or drive him away—I’m just being realistic. His drive to make the snug successful is admirable, but it’s also the thing that makes us impossible. If either of us had a solution, we wouldn’t be caught in this stalemate that feels more unbearable with every passing second.
“I...” Jamie starts, his voice quiet but thick. “I told you about my panic attacks. I don’t open up about that stuff to anyone . But I told you.” His Adam’s apple bobs, and when he speaks again, there’s an ache in his words that cuts right through me. “Doesn’t that mean something? I want this— us —to work.”
His plea is raw, vulnerable, and so utterly sincere that it takes everything in me not to throw caution to the wind right and fling myself into his arms. To tell him we’ll figure it out somehow, whatever it takes.
But no matter how hot the chemistry burns between us, no matter how much I care about him, it doesn’t magically erase the things working against us. The rivalry between our businesses isn’t just some petty spat; it’s foundational to who we both are right now. If we try to build a relationship on top of all this chaos, it’ll only backfire spectacularly. And then we’ll both end up hurting even more than we are right now.
Rather than give Jamie hope where there isn’t any, the kindest thing—the only thing—is to be honest and direct with him. Which is why I say, “We can’t work, Jamie. We just can’t.”
The finality of my words settles between us, sharp and suffocating, like the last nail in a coffin.
“Anyway...” My throat tightens painfully. “I should go.”
And so, before I lose my nerve completely, I turn from him and leave.