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“Da?” Maisie’s voice rings out from somewhere deeper inside the pub, then she appears in a doorway. She freezes at the sight of me. “What’s going—” Her words cut off when she takes in Bryce’s pale complexion and stiff posture. Concern floods her face, and she hurries towards him. “Da! What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bryce grumbles. “Just . . . worked myself up thanks to this eejit.” He gestures towards me.

Maisie’s eyes lock onto me with enough venom to fell an army. But then her gaze flicks back to Bryce, worry eclipsing fury once again. “I’ll deal with him in a minute. Sit down, Da.” She pulls out one of the pub chairs for him.

“I don’t need⁠—”

“Please, Da,” Maisie says. “For me.”

He relents with an exaggerated sigh and eases himself into the chair.

“There. Catch your breath, all right? I know you want to defend me—and believe me, I love you for it—but there’s no point getting yourself into a state over this arsehole. Besides, I can handle Jamie McIntyre myself.”

She turns back to me. “You. Upstairs. Now.”

It’s not an invitation. It’s a declaration of war. Without waiting for an answer, she spins on her heel and marches off, a woman on a mission. I suppose that’s my cue to follow her.

I glance at Bryce for guidance—or maybe mercy—but get neither.

“You’re lucky she intervened, laddie, because I wasn’t done with you.”

I nod then follow after Maisie, each step up the staircase to her flat feeling like a slow climb towards my doom. She’s clearly furious with me and wants to have it out, but shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry? I came here to confront her about being SassyLassie, after all.

She leads me into her kitchen, the cosy warmth of the space doing nothing to thaw the icy tension simmering between us. She gestures to the kitchen table, silently ordering me to sit, and I do. But Maisie? No, she stays standing, arms crossed over her chest like a shield. That’s a power move if I’ve ever seen one.

So I get back to my feet too. No way am I letting her have the upper hand. And, aye, I cross my arms as well. Two can play at this game.

I lock eyes with her, but the fire blazing in her gaze throws petrol on memories I do not need right now. Like yesterday, her lips pressed to mine, her body grinding against me as if we’d both been seconds away from losing all sense of reason . . .

My idiot cock twitches at the thought, and that’s enough to snap me back to the present. Get it together, Jamie. You’re here for answers. So what if her floaty forest-green summer dress brings out the colour of her eyes? That’s not relevant right now. Not even a wee bit.

“Right, what’s this about? Why were you hassling my da?”

“I wasn’t hassling your da! I came here to speak to you. I wanted to ask you what the hell you’re playing at, Sass.”

I lift my chin a fraction. There. The challenge has been issued and I can’t take it back.

Her expression doesn’t change—not even a flicker of surprise. “Sass? What are you talking about?”

Damn, she’s good. But she is SassyLassie, I’m sure of it.

“Oh, come on. You can drop the act. Do I really need to list every piece of evidence that points to you being SassyLassie? How about we just skip ahead to the part where you admit it?”

For a moment she just stares at me, her face unreadable except for the tiniest twitch in her eye. Then, with a heavy exhale, she says, “Fine! Yes, I’m SassyLassie. What of it?”

“What of it?” How can she stand there so calm and collected, like this isn’t the betrayal of the century? We’re talking months of lies and manipulation here. The blasé nature of her confession hits me harder than the admission itself.

I step closer to her, my voice shaking as anger and betrayal churn together inside me. “What the hell is wrong with you, Maisie? You tracked me down online, toyed with me for hours on end, all to find out my plans for the snug? And now you say, ‘What of it?’”

“Whoa! Maybe get your story straight before you start throwing accusations around. Am I SassyLassie? Yes. Have I known for a wee while that you’re LochNLoad? Also yes. But have I always known? No. And did I track you down to learn your plans for the snug? Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. We’d already been playing together for ages by the time you came up with the beer garden idea.”

She too steps closer, her stance practically daring me to back down.

Her words leave me reeling for half a second because . . . all right, fine, logically that does check out. But still!

“You’re seriously telling me it’s pure coincidence that we ended up playing Highland Legacy together, even though we live in the same small town?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’d no idea you were Lochie until Iona mentioned to me one day that you play Highland Legacy. That’s when it all clicked.”