“How were the flights? Are you wrecked?”
“Let’s just say I’m ready to stay in one place for more than five minutes.”
Patrick nods at me. “Georgie.” It’s his hotel-owner voice. His talking-to-staff voice. Not his morning-after voice that goes all rough when he’s half-asleep.
This is fine. Everything’s absolutely tickety-boo.
“Hi, Patrick.” I aim for breezy-colleague instead of woman-who-just-realized-she’s-catastrophically-in-love-with-you. “Good flight?”
“Smooth enough. I brought him back to you in one piece.”
Jake slings an arm around my shoulder as we walk toward the hotel. “You look great, Button. Got some color in your cheeks.”
I glance at Patrick, and of course he’s heard it. Cringe.
“Button?” His brow arches.
“My name for Georgie,” Jake explains cheerfully, completely unaware he’s just murdered my dignity. “She was tiny as a kid. Cute as a button.”
In one swift verbal assassination, Jake’s reduced me to the little sister. How am I supposed to convince anyone I’m a sophisticated adult woman when my own brother makes me sound like I should be wearing light-up trainers?
I glance at Patrick. Something shifts in his expression, a tightening around his eyes like he’s just realized he’s been sleeping with someone called Button. It’s not exactly a name you cry out in the throes of passion, is it? “Oh yes, Button! Right there, Button!”
“Jake, you can’t call me that anymore,” I mutter.
“Course I can. I’ll be calling you Button when you’re ninety and I’m ninety-six.”
“Bold of you to assume you’ll make it past fifty with your hobbies.”
Patrick chuckles behind us, and the sound makes every hair on my arms stand up. Full-body goosebumps.
“So, you’re loving Skye.” Jake grins. “Since you never answer my calls anymore.”
“I answer them,” I protest. “I missed maybe... three. Four max.” I beam up at him, trying to look innocent and not like someone who’s been too busy being railed by his best friend to check her phone. “I’ve been busy. Hiking. Swimming.” My eyes flick to Patrick. “Fishing.”
The word comes out with a ridiculous giggle-squeak hybrid that makes me want to dissolve into the earth, and I catch Patrick’s slight frown. When his gaze meets mine, there’s a warning there. That fishing trip got very filthy, very fast.
Jake’s eyebrows shoot up. “Fishing? You nearly cried when I tried to teach you to bait a hook when you were twelve. Said it was ‘inhumane to the worms’.”
“People change,” I say. “I can try new things.”
Like falling in love with your best friend.
Oh fuck.
“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Jake gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Dinner in an hour? I just need to shower off the travel grime first.”
“Perfect.” I beam up at him, but part of me is already wondering how this is going to work. Dinner with Jake while pretending Patrick and I are nothing more than colleagues.
Jake and Patrick are already at the restaurant table when I arrive. Jake pulls me into a bear hug that lifts me off my feet, while Patrick gives me a polite nod.
I smooth my skirt and slide into my chair, suddenly aware of every movement. Am I sitting normally? Do I look casual?
“Definitely got some color on you,” Jake says, grinning as he studies my face. “You look relaxed. Glowing. Must be all that Highland air.”
Highland air. That’s why my skin looks dewy and my hair’s bouncier than it’s been in years. Nothing to do with the fact I’m sleeping with the man sitting directly across the table, and I spend ages on my hair and makeup these days when he’s around.
“Yes. All that... Highland air.”
