He knows I mean when Maisie leaves, but he doesn’t directly say that, and neither do I.
“You know I love you, Callum, and I want us to stay pack mates, but if that’s going to happen it can’t just be empty promises. There’s going to need to be some serious changes that need to happen for this to work.”
“Alright,” I say, looking down at the floor, my chest aching.
I’ve lost myself, and in doing so I might lose the people who mean the most to me. I can’t keep living like this.
22
maisie
Even though Ididn’t listen to Callum about helping Effie and her business, his words still lingered when it came to Greer and Lain.
I didn’t message either of them last night. Even though I was indeed feeling needy, I just needed the night to think. Not that I gathered many revelations lying there all alone, because all I could think about was how good it felt to not sleep alone these past nights.
The two Alphas consumed my thoughts with how alive they make me feel.
Lain is picking me up in a few minutes for his tour, and I’m doing my best to not feel nervous. I’ve never had an infatuation with anyone, and now here I am with two crushes I know I shouldn’t have while playing a very dangerous game.
Part of me knows I should end this before feelings get any deeper, but I just can’t, no matter how many times I try to convince myself.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s an unknown number and I send it to voicemail. Instead, I slide over to the Heather Beag’s new social media post and smile when I see we havetwo comments. Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither is a new business page. I’ll take any engagement as a positive.
When I click on the comments, however, a near rage fuels me. They were made sometime last night and I consider blocking him from the account, but I don’t know how Effie would feel about that.
ChefCallum: Nan, you should be working toward retirement.
ChefCallum: We should be making posts to sell the property.
I click on his profile and of course, it’s nearly all food, none of his face. A few of the posts you can see his tattooed forearm, those posts have the most comments. The appeal is clear, there’s a level of mystery to his page; it’s hard to imagine that someone with such a hot forearm would have such a prickish personality, even if he is attractive.
I click on the latest post that was two days ago. I won’t lie, the piece of fish in the photo looks delicious. Either way, I drop a comment on his post.
TheHeatherBaeg: Stick to cooking instead of commenting.
Feeling satisfied, I tuck the phone into my purse and just as I do, Lain’s van turns the corner and parks outside the B&B. He opens the door and I slide in.
“Full tour today,” Lain says, and I give him a smile, realizing that he isn’t kidding. The van is completely full except for my usual seat. There’s a man sitting in the spot right next to mine. I swear Lain gives the man a suspicious look as I take my seat.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” the stranger says.
Lain’s eyes are already glancing through his rearview mirror at the man and I have to hold back how adorable I feel that is.
“So you didn’t have to meet up at the tavern like the rest of us peasants, huh?” he asks. His accent is American, likely somewhere on the West Coast.
“It’s a privilege of sleeping with the tour guide, I guess.” I shrug effortlessly and while my seat mate doesn’t seem amused, Lain’s eyes are crinkling in the front seat.
“Alright everyone, farm first, loch second. Now, does anyone know anything about the Highland coo?” Lain asks.
A teenage girl in the back speaks up. “That they’re adorable?”
“Aye, they are adorable. They live longer than most cattle and are highly intelligent with gentle demeanors. Now, the farm has some rules,” Lain says, going on about the rules and what to expect.
My seat mate leans in closer to me while Lain is still speaking. Does he smell like salt? No, it’s in my head.
“Are things with you and Mr. Kilt serious?” His voice is low, and he’s far too close to me as a stranger.
“Yes,” I say, shifting my legs so they face the aisle more.
