Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
MAISIE
The minibus dropped the group off at a tiny village called Abercegir , though calling the one street with a cluster of quaint, stone-built houses a village seemed an overstatement. It was more of a tiny, little, old-world hamlet in Maisie’s opinion.
She’d noticed how everybody said “Thanks, Drive” when stepping off the bus, which didn’t really make grammatical sense, but she went along with it as she descended the steps.
As soon as feet hit the ground, they were off. The pensioners with their clunky boots and walking sticks set a good pace down a side road. Maisie hitched her backpack, adjusted her berry-coloured walking trousers, and caught up to Iain and Ted at the rear of the pack.
She poked Iain’s elbow and asked, “How long is this walk?” Really, she should know more about these things before she agreed to do them, but half of her would rather not know until there was no choice to turn back.
“Huh?”
Maisie rolled the question back onto her tongue but held it in at the last millisecond, suspecting that any minute he would?—
“Five miles,” Iain said. “Through some forest, skirt a hill, through Penegoes , farmland, and finish in Machynlleth .” His accent made Maisie smile to herself for a moment. The way he rolled through words and the pleasant sounds that were foreign to her London-born ears.
“You lost me at hill .” After last time, Maisie didn’t think she could stomach the sight of another cliff.
Iain glanced back and forth around them and decided to unclip Ted from his lead. “It’s nothing like the coastal path,” he said as Ted wandered ahead along the desolate lane to where ground turned to concrete, crossing a quaint river via a road bridge. “All farm tracks and roads. No cliffs.”
No cliffs sounded promising. Though the giant of a hill which took up the entirety of Maisie’s sight to her left didn’t .
“You’ve walked this before?” she asked.
“I used the internet.”
A fair answer. She’d seen the wooden trail marker when the minibus pulled up in the middle of the village, so the route they were going to walk had to be a recognised one.
If Maisie thought that they weren’t being watched again as they relaxed into their slower pace, then it was a lie. A few within the group glanced back at her and Iain before disappearing between hedgerows.
Her gaze wandered over to him too while they turned off the man-made lane onto a trodden footpath. He wore the same waxy brown coat as the last time she’d hiked with him, his trousers black today instead of olive-green. She couldn’t actually be certain if she’d seen a man wear tactical pockets and a multitude of zips so well until she’d met him, and as she mulled over her past life decisions, she found that the idea of the kind of man she wanted to marry one day might well be changing.
She didn’t need to develop a crush right now, but it didn’t hurt to look, right?
Squeezing along the trodden-down path where the hedges were as tall as Iain, Maisie followed the group to the edge of where woodland began. She was glad that she was last so that no one had to watch her crab her way along while leaves and prickly things brushed her body.
“Are you ready, Maisie?” Ronnie asked her when the enclosed space began opening up, dressed in all of his navy walking gear, grey hair peeking out of his beanie.
“As I’ll ever be,” she said.
“This route is not like walking along the cliffs.”
Iain arched his smug eyebrow in an ‘I told you so’ look.
Pandering to his ego by admitting he was right would only charge the back and forth between them that Maisie was starting to crave a little too much, so she gave Ronnie her full attention as they dipped under the shaded darkness of trees. This ground wasn’t so easy to walk, boggy and squidgy from the rain that fell yesterday lunchtime. Even Ted with his adorable doggy shoes had to slow down.
Ronnie continued to tell her about the walk. “It’s part of a route called Glynd?r’s Way that starts on the border with England, right next to Shropshire, and comes all of the way through mid-Wales before heading back toward Shrewsbury.”
“That sounds … long.” Far too much walking for Maisie to handle.
“Your nain and I walked it a few years ago. It took us eleven days, but we’re old folk. You youngsters could do it in nine.”
“Oh, no —” Maisie laughed and looped her arm with his. “I’m right there with you, Ron. Iain and Ted can go off on their own.”
“Thanks,” Iain grumbled.
Maisie looped her arm through his as well and dragged him towards her, never expecting his large body to cave into hers. Just for a second, the length of Iain’s side from his shoulder to his hip bumped into her as his boots lost grip on the mud.
Maybe it was too soon to have done that. She’d hardly touched him at all except for when they’d been squished up together on the minibus, and she’d been without a man’s touch for far too long for her system to have no reaction at all.
When he managed to walk again, Iain gave her one of his stern ‘what are you doing?’ looks. Maisie grinned in return, though her insides were having a kicking, screaming moment.
“I would never leave you to walk on your own, Iain Howell,” she said.
His gaze lingered on her, so she continued to smile, teasing out that ‘sunshine personality’ of his. It was there somewhere – maybe buried behind grey clouds and a threat of thunder. Because something had happened. She didn’t know what it was, but when she’d watched him cross the street in Aberystwyth this morning, head down like he was under a cloud of his own shadow, her need to figure him out had made her run – and Maisie didn’t run – to catch up with him.
Amongst the rest of the group, Vera turned with a sly look on her face, all the leaves overhead dappling her with light. “What’s going on back here?”
“I’m learning about gleam-door way,” Maisie called through the forest.
“Glynd?r,” Iain rumbled.
She bumped him with her hip. “That’s what I said.”
“It really wasn’t.”
On her other arm, Ronnie chuckled. With boots squelch ing in the mud, Maisie let him go catch up to Vera in case she needed his help. Her wrist was still in a cast for another few weeks, and if she fell then Maisie would rather have someone there to catch her, though maybe leaving that task to a seventy-three-year-old might only end in further disaster.
Clearing her throat, she slipped her arm out from being linked with Iain’s too. Her imagination had been right about the bulkiness of his arms. All his jacket did was make them look like they could crush her if they ever came around her. It was hard not to want to be crushed in an embrace by him – purely for platonic reasons, of course.
“Sorry,” she said meekly. On the first hike he’d said she could hold onto him if she needed to, but she hadn’t exactly needed him just then.
“It’s fine.” Iain glanced at her sideways. “That last thing you typed out?—”
“Not yet,” Maisie cut in as gently as she could without making any of the pensioners ten feet ahead turn around. If they were going to talk about how they were definitely caught in some matchmaking scheme, then the OAPs running it didn’t need to know that they knew. She lowered her voice and said, “They can’t overhear us.”
Last Sunday – the day after she’d met with him alone in the café – Maisie had dinner at Vera’s with Ronnie. The innocence they’d attempted to pass off when she dug into questioning just how she and Iain had been the only ones to show at that particular establishment hadn’t been believable at all.
The first hike, Iain helping her to move into her flat, the pub quiz she’d been dragged to, the accidental ‘wrong’ café, and coerced to sit with each other again on the minibus today. There were far too many moments of them colliding to just be simple coincidences.
Iain’s slight glare lasted for another moment before he turned his eyes back to the trail.
They were being set up; this morning’s drive had solidified that suspicion in Maisie’s mind. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
Half an hour later, they were squeezing through bracken-filled land that made Maisie glad she’d worn extra-long socks, walking around that giant hill on a worn-in trail midway up. Somewhere along the way a rendition of ‘500 Miles’ by The Proclaimers had kicked off, and anyone would think a flock of seagulls had made their way inland. She couldn’t hold back her laugh at the pained look on Iain’s face when the chorus came around for the fourth time.
Since it was still winter, all the browned bracken covering the hillside was low, clearing the view of the patchwork farm fields beneath them and the grassy mountains in the far distance. She shouldn’t have shut down that conversation with Iain whilst they were still under cover of forest dense enough to linger back from the group, because out here their voices would carry.
With Ted wandering along the fence line to their left and sniffing at the grassy knolls of his own accord, Iain had been quiet for a while. More than usual, anyway. Maisie hadn’t forgotten his worn-out appearance that obviously hadn’t been ‘fine’ like he’d grumbled this morning.
“How has the messiness been this week?” she asked, making general conversation to keep her mind off yet another round of blisters she could feel were on their way.
Iain snapped out of his thoughts like a snail might. “Huh?”
Maisie waited for him to answer like he usually did, the few seconds of delay, but he didn’t. He really didn’t understand her this time. “You said at the café that your life was a mess. I was just wondering if anything had tidied itself up this week?”
The look on Iain’s face as he hid behind the windbreak collar of his coat said things had gotten worse. “It’s cluttered alright.”
Maisie nudged him gently, softening her voice. “I’m available to listen.”
“Why do you want to?”
Mentally, she reared back at his tone. “It’s usually a part of making friends, listening when your friend has a problem. And I have a feeling you don’t want to join in on the singing.” The rest of their group had walked several thousand miles at this point of their continuous rendition.
Iain was silent for a minute, the only sound the way he sniffled from the wind. “I had a phone call that didn’t go well,” he eventually told her. “And I’m being fired from my job.”
“ Being fired? As in …”
“I have six weeks to improve my sales. If not, I’m getting the boot.”
“I thought you didn’t like your job?” Maisie thought he’d even be a little bit happy to not have to work there anymore.
“I don’t.” Scooping to pick up a stone in the trail, Iain tossed it into the hillside field they’d slowed to a stroll beside. “But I don’t have anything else, either.”
“But you’re not trying to get fired, are you?”
His chest rumbled. “I can’t get better at that job.”
So he was just going to … what? give up?
Maisie tried to be helpful. “Why not use these weeks to find something you enjoy doing and quit anyway?”
“There’s nothing. I have a mortgage, bills, and Ted to feed.” Iain’s choppy breaths turned more and more into huffs and Maisie checked herself before she overstepped any further.
“Okay. Well, what did you used to do before?”
It took Iain a long minute to answer. In the meantime, a few of the pensioners tossed glances over their shoulders that Maisie guessed were supposed to be covert, before knocking their heads together.
“I worked on a farm,” he mumbled as if he was ashamed to admit it.
Maisie wasn’t daft; she knew the stereotypes unfairly labelled upon agricultural folk. Her mind jumped back to their conversation where he’d mentioned having experience with animals and had not wanted to elaborate.
She didn’t know much about farming; unsurprisingly central London didn’t have a large agricultural scene, but she could work around that. She was determined to help him if he’d let her.
“What did you like about it?” she asked.
Iain looked off towards the peak of the hill they circled. “The land,” he said. “The animals.”
Land … Maisie’s gaze circled the landscape and came back to the trail they walked. “Why not do this?”
Iain glared expectantly, but Maisie was beginning to see that he didn’t ever have malice behind his stares. It was just the way he looked. She still squirmed under them regardless. The force of having his attention was so … powerful. If he climbed all the way to the top of that hill while she stayed down here and looked at her like this, she was sure she would still feel it in the same way.
“Walk,” she elaborated.
“People don’t get paid to walk.”
“But they do get paid to do hiking tours and lead groups.” The harsh cut of Iain’s brow softened as she elaborated. “You know these trails, clearly, and it’d be outdoors. You could take Ted with you, too. I’ll even help you with a website?—”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Iain cut her off, his bear-like hand gesturing between them. “This isn’t going to happen.”
“I think you’d be good at it.”
Iain’s eyes snapped to her so suddenly that Maisie almost lost her footing. His stare like that was rather unnerving, and her heart kicked against her breastbone.
“What?” she prodded.
“You think I’d be good at it?” The quiver in his voice made Maisie want to reach over and soothe him somehow.
Her chest ached at the stunned look on his face as she asked, “Has no one ever told you you’d be good at something before?”
Iain’s attention fell to the trail at his feet, and one big wave of sadness for him swept over Maisie.
What kind of life had this man led for him to think he’d fail at any adventure?
“You could do it,” she promised as she reached to give his arm a comforting squeeze. “If you found something that you genuinely enjoyed, then I think you’d be a different person, and it’d help you feel happier.”
She didn’t say it to cause him grief; she knew how hard it was to find your path in life. Her friends had been her biggest support through figuring out what she wanted to do with hers. Sienna and Faye had been her first customers when she’d started Maisie By Design. Even Bash had bought a jewellery set for his mum. It wasn’t polite to make assumptions about Iain’s friends when she didn’t know them, but she suspected that he didn’t have that kind of person in his corner.
He didn’t shake her off, didn’t nod or disagree. Just kept on walking onwards while her words looked like they stewed in his mind.
The prospect of sitting down was the only promise that kept Maisie moving forwards. That hill – though not as bad as a cliff – hadn’t been fun. The ground was too soggy from yesterday, and yet they’d still marched forwards.
Her body wasn’t used to this. She missed pavements, she missed red buses and trains and taxis. Plus, the sudden dull ache in her lower back – yay for having a uterus – made her a little slower today, and she tried to hide the grimace on her face every time the ache shifted into her hips and the tops of her thighs. She wasn’t even on her period, this was just her life, and it wasn’t fair.
The route that they walked gave way to narrow country roads and the town of Penegoes , before bringing them back to Maisie’s favourite thing: more farmland. None of which was level at all. She had one foot higher on the incline than the other, with her arms out like an imitation of an aeroplane just to keep some semblance of balance, squeaking with every slip and slide.
Iain had Ted tethered at his side since sheep were about, but the dog didn’t seem to notice them much. Maisie had run out of fingers and toes to count the number of times Vera and her friends had glanced back at their slower trio, which meant that she couldn’t hold her tongue on the topic of them for another minute.
Her foot slipped on the dewy grass. “Oh for fff —” Her cuss fizzled out as she grabbed Iain’s sleeve and tugged him to stop.
“What are you doing?” He gave her a hard look that she ignored.
“I can’t keep this in any longer. This is going to sound absurd?—”
“Probably.”
She ignored his jab, too. “They’re all definitely trying to get us together.” Saying that combination of words felt far too personal for their level of acquaintance.
“I know,” he said.
Sheep bleated on the other side of the wire fence ten feet to their left.
Maisie blinked. “You know ?”
“I’ve gotten that feeling too.” Iain’s piercing green eyes inched down to her fingers wrapped around his forearm. Colouring at the realisation, Maisie unlatched her grip on his sleeve.
Clearing her throat, she said, “It makes sense. Think about it: the day we met, Nain making me walk back with you and then asking you to help me move out, how they told us the wrong café and were really early today so there were only two seats conveniently left …” Yep , it still sounded as absurd to say out loud as it had done in her mind, and what thoughts came from her chill-touched lips next were just as bizarre. “This isn’t going to stop unless we do something about it. And I don’t think Nain will let it go if I tell her that this ” — Maisie gestured between them — “isn’t going to be a thing. She’s too persistent.”
Glancing first at the pensioners who got further and further away across the pasture, Iain turned himself to her. “Do I want to ask what your plan is? Since you look like you already have one,” he presumed, which is when Maisie began to sweat.
Maybe this was actually the absurd part.
“Why don’t we … indulge them?”
Iain narrowed an eye. “You mean lie?”
“I mean,” Maisie emphasised, forcing herself to not rattle out her suggestion and run away, “pretend to date like they want us to and then pretend that it’s not working out. It’ll get them off our backs and we could still be friends afterwards.”
The dent between Iain’s eyebrows didn’t budge, and neither did his glower. A nervous laugh began to bubble up in Maisie the longer he was silent, readying herself to run away. He’d probably catch up to her in three seconds simply by walking, but at least it’d get her out of this situation.
That anxious chuckle never got the chance to break.
“How long do you want to do this for?” Iain asked in perfect earnestness.
“You got somewhere else to be?”
“Just wondering how long I’ll have to prepare myself to be the object of your attraction. If I’m not already, that is?”
Flirty Iain wasn’t something Maisie was equipped to deal with. Being perceived by him was enough to make her lady parts quiver like jelly – it wasn’t for the weak, but she’d never said that she was strong. She scowled at him to take the edge off the feeling sizzling down between her legs.
It didn’t pass Maisie by that he hadn’t disagreed with her plan. “Two weeks.”
“Not long enough,” he said. “We’ll only see the group twice and it won’t be convincing. One month.”
“Seriously?”
Iain shifted his weight, somehow seeming closer as he cocked his head. “Might I remind you that this was your idea.”
“A stupid one.” Honestly, she should never be listened to. “People don’t fake date in real life, only in books.”
“Rich and famous do it all the time.”
“And we are neither of those, unless you’re secretly hiding out here because you’ve run away from your multi-million inheritance.”
Iain scoffed. “It would be multi- billion , but thanks for thinking I could pull that off.” He pivoted and walked away to follow the others, leaving Maisie open-mouthed and narrowing her eyes on his back.
He was back to being infuriating, then?
“Arse,” she uttered loud enough for him to hear.
“Now? Or do you want to wait for when your granny’s around?” he called over his shoulder, Ted trotting at his side. From a completely objective view, Iain looked incredibly good surrounded by hills and trees with sunlight reflecting in his eyes. After a four-mile hike, it wasn’t fair. And neither was the way his trousers hugged his tight, round, rugby-man’s arse.
“Idiot.”
Iain carried on walking, which only left her behind.
“Hey, wait!” Twice in his presence had Maisie jogged, which wasn’t a lot, but it was suspicious. She caught up to his side with her palm going to rub at her lower back. “I didn’t expect you to agree so easily.”
“It’s a tidy idea.”
“It is?” Her frown softened. “It is.”
Of course! She was a genius. Pretending to date would definitely stop Vera and her friends from trying to get them together. It was the perfect plan, and it was all pretend. She wouldn’t have to worry about shaving her legs or looking nice when it was all fake. They’d only have to actually see each other on these hikes, be a little flirty – which Iain already proved he could be ( herself , she wasn’t so sure), and the elders would soon give up.
Nothing could go wrong.
Maisie could focus on finding out what Vera was hiding from the Moss clan, and Iain could … well, she didn’t know what Iain could do.
“I know what I get out of all of this but what do you?” she asked, keeping pace.
“The same as you.” He threw her half a glance. “You’ve had this for a few weeks, Maisie, I’ve had this for eighteen months. At least three of them have tried to set me up with granddaughters or nieces or great nieces.”
“Wow. That makes me feel so special.”
Iain rolled his eyes at her comment. “I never met any of those – none of them ever had anything to do with the group – which is why they’re behaving like Ted with a hotdog.”
Ted, of course, spoke Welsh-accented English fluently and whipped his head around.
“I thought the phrase was ‘a dog with a bone’,” Maisie said.
“Whoever coined it hadn’t seen Ted with a sausage.” Bending to the will of the big, golden eyes staring up at him, Iain pulled a treat out of a pocket on his trousers and tossed it for Ted to find within the grass.
“So you don’t want people on your back about your love life,” Maisie said, bringing them back to their dilemma. “Got it.”
“And you’re only here for Vera, not to date anyone.”
“Correct. Although I still don’t really have time for this, fake or not.”
“It won’t have to be a lot. A couple of weeks of being seen together and we can end it.”
“ ‘It’ sounds so clinical.”
Iain shrugged. “Break up. Call it quits. Whatever.”
A couple of the pensioners peered over their shoulders.
Maisie thought for a second. “Are you coming to Nain’s birthday party this week? That’d be a good place to start.”
“Why not start now?”
“Huh?”
Iain turned, and all of a sudden he was in her space. He took the tiny zip of her coat between his thick fingers and drew it down between their bodies, making Maisie’s blood rush to her ears and somewhere considerably lower. His knuckles scraped her fleece underneath with the steadiest, surest pressure, the waterproof fabric opening over her breasts and stomach until it felt like only an inch was left hanging on.
His eyes met her wide ones as she failed to breathe. Too stunned to work any words onto her dry tongue while her body felt as though someone had lit sparklers beneath her skin.
“You looked warm,” Iain said, his gaze lingering on hers before he walked away.
Maisie exhaled in one ragged breath as his back turned to her.
Did he just … Oh my.
It wasn’t a warm day but the warmth that spread through her made it feel like the height of summer.
How could he make her body react like she’d never been touched by a man at all, and then just leave her here to deal with the needy pulse between her legs all by herself? It was a feeling far too dangerous for what they’d just agreed to do.
If they were going to do this, then Maisie wasn’t in any way prepared for Iain to turn on any real charm like that again.