“Games?” Imogen’s voice hits a pitch that could scatter wildlife. She glances around, like she’s expecting a roulette table to pop out of the bushes. “What kind?”
Daisy’s grin stretches wider, and I instantly don’t trust it. “Truth or dare. Or strip poker.”
Hugo perks up, leaning forward. “That might even make a few of my dreams come true.” He delivers what he presumably believes is a charming wink.
My jaw clenches. “We are not playing strip poker, Daisy Wilson.”
“Ooh.” She sits up straighter. “My full name. I feel like I’m being told off.”
“You are,” I reply. “Behave yourself.”
“We’re all adults, Eddie.”
“That’s debatable. And I don’t answer to Eddie. I didn’t slog through years of medical training to sound like I’m hosting a kids’ show.”
“I like Eddie. It’s cute. Dr. Eddie.”
“NoDr. Eddie,” I grit out. Besides the fact that I have never in my professional life answered to ‘Eddie,’ the correct title for a surgeon in the UK is actually ‘Mr.’ But I've grown weary of that particular correction. “And I can assure you there will be absolutely no ‘strip anything’ whatsoever.”
“Fine.” She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t want to scandalize anyone.”
I turn my attention to the fire pit, fixing my gaze on the glowing embers as if they hold the secret to keeping my composure intact. This is going to be a long night.
“Lighten up, Eddie.” Sophia giggles. “This feels just like when we were fifteen.” She turns to the group, smirking conspiratorially. “He’s always been overprotective and stern with us. And so bloody grumpy!”
“Someone had to prevent catastrophe with you two,” I reply. “A spectacular fail on that front, obviously.”
Given the current evidence, I should have been significantly more protective. And considerably grumpier.
“Okay,” Daisy cuts in. “If Eddie”—she shoots me a pointed look that does nothing to improve my mood—“doesn’t like the idea of strip poker, let’s consider some very serious, very proper games. How about Two Truths and a Lie? It’s a classic.”
Marvelous. Because what this evening needs is Daisy Wilson revealing more truths.
As it stands, I know too much. Like how she looks in my bed, how she feels wrapped around me, and, most disturbingly, how that mouth forms the wordDaddy. . .
Sophia, predictably, lights up at the suggestion, leaning into Daisy’s orbit like she always does. “Oh, I love that game!”
Imogen sighs, barely concealing her disdain. “Isn’t that a bit . . . juvenile?”
“That’s the point,” Daisy says. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fine,” Imogen pouts. “But only because we’re literally stranded in the wilderness with nothing else to do.”
I bite my tongue. I’m not sure a camping park in Devon counts as the wilderness.
“I’ll start!” Daisy says. “Let’s see . . . I’ve been skydiving, I used to nick donuts from Greggs, and I once stole Edward’s car.”
“Why are two of those about you being a thief?” Hugo asks, looking far too impressed.
“Maybe I have a dark side.” Daisy’s grin widens. “Or maybe I don’t. You’ll just have to work it out.”
The group starts debating, but I’m watching Daisy, whose smirk is daring me to ruin her fun.
“Stealing Edward’s car is obviously the lie,” Imogen declares with absolute certainty. “She can’t bethatreckless.”
I resist the urge to laugh outright.
“I don’t know why anyone would choose donuts for their life of crime,” Bernice muses.
