Chapter 53 Summer
FIFTY-THREE
SUMMER
When we get to the front door, Fraser and Cameron are already waiting.
“We’re eating outside?” I ask doubtfully. It’s still spring, and the air is cool.
“Aye, it’s a clear night,” Fraser says, as if that should mean something. He bundles me up in my new pink coat and grabs my hand to spin me. The skirt swirls around me like a bell. “You look like a wee princess.”
I can’t keep in my grin. I can’t believe the coat is mine. It’s the kind of piece I dreamed about as a teenager.
You look silly, my mum’s voice whispers in the back of my head. Do you want everyone to stare at you?
I shut it down, stroking the coat’s big buttons. For the first time in forever, it feels like my outside matches my inside.
Alec puts a hand on the small of my back, and I suddenly become aware of the plug nestled deep inside me. My cheeks warm. “Okay?” he murmurs in my ear. I nod, trying not to squirm.
“Let’s go,” Cameron says impatiently.
As soon as we step outside, I realise why the men want to eat outdoors.
The stars are out. Every star in the universe, apparently.
With no smog or light pollution, the sky shimmers unbelievably bright, like a spangling blanket has been draped over the hills.
“Oh my God,” I say, spinning on the spot.
“Don’t get a sight like that in London, do you?” Fraser asks proudly. “We couldn’t let you leave without showing you one of the pure beauties of the Highlands.”
I’m led through the forest towards Fraser’s secret swimming spot. When we step out into the clearing by the loch, my feet stop moving.
Someone has set up a picnic. Several tartan blankets have been spread out over the moss on the bank.
They’re covered with pillows and lanterns, and two heaters from the lambing shed are puffing out hot air.
A basket full of dishes and Tupperware is tucked into one corner, and glass drink bottles are chilling in the loch a few metres away, lodged into the sandy bottom.
The whole area is glowing golden with the light of several lanterns.
“What?” I whisper.
“Come on, sunshine.” Fraser pulls me down onto the blanket. “Let’s get you nice and comfy on one of these here pillows—”
“She’ll sit here,” Alec says, kneeling opposite me and touching his knee.
His grey eyes gleam in the low light. Slowly, I crawl across to him, allowing him to drag me onto his thigh.
As he does, the edge of the plug just nestles deeper into me, making my breath catch.
He covers us both with a blanket. Cameron starts unloading the basket.
“Seriously, guys,” I say. “What is all this?”
“It was Cam’s idea,” Fraser says cheerfully, pouring me some cider. “Wanted to end his date on a bang.”
Cameron glares at him. “Wasn’t a date,” he mutters, setting out dishes. There’s so much food—fresh-baked spiced bread with herby butter and homemade cheese, little flaky hand-made pastries, a canteen of soup, three different kinds of salad.
“Did you make all of this?” I ask in wonder.
“Prepped most of it before we went out. There’s strawberry cake for after.” He sinks down onto the pillow and stretches out his leg. “Eat.”
“I love strawberries.” I practically bounce.
Alec’s hand clamps down hard on my thigh. “Stop. Moving,” he orders.
I look back at him through my lashes. “Why? Is there a problem?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” I squidge back against him, feeling something hard press against my arse. He hisses and slips a hand under the blanket. I go very still as he cups my arse cheek, nudging the very tip of the plug with his fingertip.
The picnic disappears. The loch fades away. My entire world narrows to that one quivering spark of awareness inside me. It electrifies me. I can’t help the gasp that falls out of my mouth.
Both Fraser and Cameron look at me.
“Um,” I stammer. Alec’s finger is still nudging the plug, drawing tiny circles with the end of it. I can barely think. My body keeps clenching. “Yes. Strawberries. I love them.”
“I know,” Cameron says, handing me a warm roll filled with butter.
“You do? How?”
He looks at me like I’m a bit thick. “Because you post pictures of everything you eat,” he says flatly.
I blink at him. “I… Wait. Do you follow me on social media?”
There’s no way, right? I’m not sure I’ve seen Cameron use his phone for anything other than making calls.
“No.”
“Oh, don’t lie to her,” Fraser says cheerfully, leaning back on one arm. “He’s on your accounts all the time.”
“What?” I genuinely cannot believe this. “Let me see. What’s your username?” I fumble for my phone and then realise I don’t have it. Alec silently offers me his, and I open the Picturegram webpage.
“It’s ShirtlessShepherdxoxo,” Fraser says. I choke.
“He set it up,” Cameron mutters. “I don’t know how to change it.”
I start tapping at Alec’s phone. “Crap. Is shepherd with an E or an A?”
“E,” Alec says, looking over my shoulder. I can feel his smile against my cheek as Cameron’s profile loads.
It’s empty. The profile picture is an uncentred photo of him scowling at the camera. He has no followers and is only following one account. Me.
My eyes well.
“Why is she crying,” Cameron says.
“Cameron,” I croak. “Did you make an account just to follow me?”
“S’your job,” he says, after a moment. “I like your pictures.”
Pride floods me. “You do?” For some reason, this massive grumpy man saying he likes my work is more exciting than any amount of likes.
“Oh, aye,” Fraser says. “He’s a big fan of that one of you on the beach in that wee pink bikini, pretty sure he’s stared at that for hours—”
Cameron physically shoves a roll into Fraser’s mouth. “Shut up and eat.” He glowers at me. “Eat,” he orders.
Alec obligingly picks up one of the hand pies and holds it to my mouth. “Come on now,” he says quietly. “Don’t be rude. He made it all for you.”
Buzzing with emotion, I let him feed me. The four of us settle into the meal. The lamplight flickers over us, and the stars reflect off the mirror-like surface of the loch as we eat. I try to relax, but my mind is elsewhere.
I can still feel the plug. It’s becoming very distracting, and Alec is not helping matters.
As the men eat and talk over my head, he keeps one hand under the blanket, stroking my arse possessively.
Every so often, the heel of his palm nudges the flared base of the plug, and I quiver all over, my insides turning to goo.
The third time it happens, I notice Fraser look at me narrowly.
“You feeling better, petal?” he asks as I dig into my slice of strawberry cake.
“Better?”
“Aye, you’re being very quiet. You’re not upset about what happened in the store, are you?”
I set my bowl down. My mouth is suddenly too dry to eat. “No. I just feel a bit silly about getting upset. When I go back to London, I’ll be confronted like that all the time. I need to grow a thicker skin.”
“Why do you do this job?” Cameron demands. “It makes you miserable.”
“It doesn’t make me miserable.”
“It does,” he argues. “It makes you tired. Upset. More than a job should.”
I mean to lie. I open my mouth to tell him that this job is perfect for me—I get free clothes, I get paid well, I get to play with fashion all day. But for some reason, under the stars with the loch lapping a few feet away, I tell the truth.
“It’s all I’ve ever been good at,” I admit.
Fraser frowns. “What?”
I fiddle with the corner of the blanket. “I’ve never been good at anything before.”
“That can’t be true,” Alec says. I dimly feel him pull his hand from under the blanket and wrap his arm around me in a hug.
I smile wanly. I guess he thinks this isn’t an arseplay conversation.
Shame. “No, it is true, actually. My whole life, I’ve been chronically below average at everything.
No matter how hard I tried. And it’s okay!
” I say quickly when Fraser looks like he wants to argue.
“Like, some children are naturally talented, and some stay up all night studying to get a C. My mum used to get me all of these extra tutors to try and help me with exams, and I’d still do badly.
Even when I got into fashion school…” I trail off, embarrassment twisting in me.
“You never said why you dropped out,” Alec says softly. “Did something happen?”
I laugh. The sound is hollow. “No, nothing happened. I just…couldn’t keep up.”
It’s funny, really. After I got my ADHD diagnosis at the end of secondary school, I was sure that university would be better. I finally had a reason for why everything always felt so hard for me. I was medicated. And I’d be studying fashion. The one thing I loved more than anything else.
Mum was furious, of course. She wanted me to do law. But I was so sure I’d prove her wrong. I’d finally be able to show her I was good at something. I genuinely didn’t see how I could fail.
I was wrong.
“It was just too hard for me,” I admit. “The uni gave me so much help. They assigned me a support worker. I got counselling and extra time in exams. I was always studying. I worked so hard, and I still just…couldn’t do it.
In fashion school, the skills build on each other every week.
If you fall behind, you get avalanched. In the end, I was in so over my head that my tutor said I’d never make it up. ”
The memory makes me feel cold. I remember her patronising tone as she told me It’s not your fault you’re so behind. You’re clearly trying as hard as you can. I just think it’s best you cut your losses. She was probably thrilled to get rid of me so she could stop being blinded by glitter every week.
I look out across the loch, at the shadows of the mountains. “The one thing I thought I would be good at,” I say, “and I still failed. Catastrophically.” None of the men says anything. I take a deep breath and pick up my bowl.
“But,” I say. “I am good at being an influencer. I’m good at recognising patterns in what’s trending.
I’m good at posting popular content. I’m good at showing people what they want to see.
Major brands want to work with me. People like me.
So.” I stab my fork into a strawberry. “That’s why I keep doing this job. ” I take a bite.
“But they don’t like you,” Cameron says quietly.
“Well. No,” I admit. “Not right now. But hopefully, when Lulu has done a bit more PR magic—”
“No one likes you,” Cameron says. “No one even knows you.”
I meet his eyes. He’s watching me steadily from across the blanket. “No one likes you,” he repeats. “Because you’re a liar.”
My heart beats harder, and I put down the cake. “Excuse me?”