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“I think you deserve another slice for your heroic achievement today.” Jenn held up a slice of carrot cake as temptation.

Lizzie’s eyes lit up. “You’re being too kind. It wasn’t that big a deal. Now if there was a cake-eating competition…” She gratefully took the slice of cake and licked her lips.

“No big deal,” Jenn teased. “Just three mountains, twenty-five kilometres, and one world-class blister.”

Lizzie snorted. “Honestly, the blister’s more impressive than the time.”

“Still can’t believe you ran it with Ally,” Jenn added, scanning the crowd. “Was he annoying or encouraging?”

“A bit of both. He paced me for the last stretch—refused to let me drop back.”

Jenn raised her brows. “So… chivalrous.”

“Mm. Or bossy. The line’s thin.”

Before Jenn could press further, the door swung open, bringing with it a fresh rush of post-rain evening air. Ally walked in first, tall and easy, grinning like he’d just stepped out of a whisky advert. And right behind him… Ruairidh.

Of course he looked unfairly good tonight—dark shirt, sleeves rolled to show those delectable forearms, hair slightly mussed like the wind had taken liberties. His gaze swept over the hall, calm and inscrutable, but when it landed on her, something inside her chest tripped over itself. Unhelpful.

And that was when Javi appeared at her side.

“Hola, mi diosa del yoga…” Javi murmured, brushing her temple with a quick kiss.

Jenn’s cheeks heated. Why now? Why here?

Her eyes flicked up, almost on instinct, and found Ruairidh watching them. Not for long—just a quick glance, then a careful mask snapping into place—but she felt it all the same. That quiet tension under his calm exterior.

“Evening, all,” Ally said as they strolled over, his grin easy as always, giving Jenn his customary kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Ally. Hi, Ruairidh,” Jenn managed, though her voice was embarrassingly airy.

“Evening,” Ruairidh said, measured as a metronome, yet his eyes lingered a fraction too long before sliding to the cakes.

Ally reached for Lizzie’s hand, brushing a swift kiss against her cheek as naturally as breathing. “And here she is—Elizabeth Wallace, seventh woman across the line. And looking like she could run it again.” Ally smiled at Lizzie. More than a little appreciative.

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but there was a slight flush to her cheeks, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. “Flatter me more, why don’t you?”

David appeared beside her, pint in hand. “She’s been basking in the attention all evening.”

There was a beat too long before he added, “Well done, babe. You smashed it.”

“Thanks,” Lizzie said. Her smile faltered slightly.

Ally offered her his glass in a mock toast. “To blistered legends and well-earned whisky.” Jenn could’ve sworn he was watching Lizzie just a little too closely.

Javi, of course, chose that moment to tighten his arm around her waist. “Cake for you, guapo?” he teased, nodding at Ruairidh.

Jenn felt her stomach flip. Oh God, Javi. Cringe.

Something had shifted. Ruairidh wasn’t rude, exactly—still calm, still polite—but whatever levity had existed at the Fisherman’s Dance felt... buried. Tucked away beneath that maddeningly steady voice and even steadier gaze.

“Whatever Jenn recommends,” he said simply, eyes still on her.

Her fingers fumbled with the cake knife. “Right. Um. Chocolate fudge? It’s… good.”

“Perfect,” Ruairidh replied, his tone giving nothing away.

Javi chuckled, clearly oblivious to the strange current sparking between her and Ruairidh. “I’ll take a slice too, cariño,” he said, leaning a little closer.