I chuckle. “I would have known you on sight.”
“Aye, well, you’re probably the exception to the rule. Readers know my books rather than my face. I’m fine with that. It would be kind of boring if fans bugged me every five minutes, don’t you think?”
“It would probably ruin a meal.”
“Aye. I’d never want to leave the house.”
I can’t help but smile. “There’s nothing wrong with spending all our time indoors.”
Hamish waggles his eyebrows. “In the bedroom?”
"Anywhere. There are rooms in your house Ihaven’texplored yet.”
“Explored or had sex in?”
I snort out a laugh. “Both.”
It’s perfect timing for the waiter to return with a glass of wine for each of us.
"I'd like to play again soon," Hamish says, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand. "Not tonight, as we're both drinking."
“What did you have in mind?”
“Have you used nipple clamps before?” he asks in a quiet tone.
“Yes.” I pinch my bottom lip with my teeth.
“Maybe coupled with feathers or some other soft textures,” he muses.
“I’d like that.”
Hamish takes a sip of his wine, and I follow suit. It’s probably not a conversation we should continue in public.
“How did you get into writing?” I ask.
“I had the same teacher all through primary school. She’d read to us for half an hour at the end of every day, and at Christmas, she’d give us all a book. She made me love reading first and then encouraged me when I started to write my own stories. She gave me an exercise book and gave me feedback on my writing, even though it wasn’t officially school work.”
“Wow.”
“You like that word,” Hamish observes.
"I'm not a wordsmith like you," I counter.
He chuckles.
“Seriously, though, she sounds like an amazing teacher.”
"Aye, she was. I've got a lot to thank her for." His gaze becomes distant. "She's gone now, of course. She wasn't exactly young when I was in her classes. But she lived long enough for me to send her a copy of my first Dougie Clarke book."
"I bet she was proud of you."
“She sent me a lovely letter, thanking me for the book and wishing me every success, so yes, I think she probably was.”
“And your parents?” I ask. “Are they proud of you too?”
“Aye. Especially when I made enough to pay off their mortgage,” he adds with a wink.
“I’ll never do that as a PA.”
