I still remember that first lunch. Mum practically bowed when Jake introduced him. “Patrick McLaren?” she gasped, like he was some A-lister instead of just my brother’s climbing mate.
Turns out he kind of was. By then, Patrick already had three hotels under his belt.
Ten years later, the second Patrick walks into a room, I’m sixteen again. Tongue-tied, shaky, praying I don’t trip over my own feet while my mum’s voice hisses in my head:Be respectful. He’s important. Don’t embarrass Jake.
Some habits just won’t quit.
He nods at me mid-conversation, and—oh God—those eyes. That icy blue. My body reacts like he’s grabbed me by the throat and whispered something dirty, when really, he’s just acknowledged I exist.
Please head straight for Craig’s office. Please don’t—
Of course he doesn’t.
He ends his call with a curt “Sort it,” and stops right next to my desk. Close enough that I catch a hint of masculine cologne.
“Morning, team,” he says, that Yorkshire accent rolling around the words. “How’s everyone doing?”
Cue the corporate autopilot:Brilliant, thanks. Busy but excellent. Can’t complain really.
Ingrid, our UX lead, unveils a breathy, simpering voice I’ve never heard from her before. “Really great. Just working on some super exciting new design concepts.”
I fixate on my keyboard, staring at a single blueberry muffin crumb stuck betweenJandK.
“Life in Skye treating you well, sir?” Roy jumps in, sliding into the conversation with the kind of easy confidence I’d kill for. “Heard you’re living up there these days.”
“Aye, much prefer it to the city,” Patrick says, settling his weight against the desk edge. “I make it down to London once or twice a month, but Skye’s become home base until I’m certain the hotel’s operating exactly as it should. And until we secure our Forbes listing.”
Ah yes, Patrick’s not-so-secret obsession. Everyone knows he’s trying to get his beloved Skye hotel onto the Forbes Travel Guide Five Star list, which is basically the hotel version of winning an Oscar. Only about two hundred hotels worldwide have that honor.
“Bit of a culture shock from your Chelsea penthouse, huh?” Roy smirks. “Trading champagne bars for sheep pastures?”
Patrick chuckles. “Yeah, just a little. The sheep-to-human ratio up there is ten to one. And honestly—” he grins “—sometimes they’re better company than my London neighbors.”
The whole team laughs as if he’s just delivered the comedy routine of the decade.
I keep staring at the crumb.
How does Roy justtalkto him like that? Like Patrick’s a regular guy?
I want to contribute something witty, intelligent… or at least audible. Instead, my brain offers: Sheep are not good company. Sheep are idiots. They can literally burp themselves to death. Through the wrong end.
Which, considering how I’m bottling up all this anxiety, is probably how I’ll end up going too.
“One of you is heading up to Skye next week,” Patrick says, scanning us like he’s weighing each of us for the job. Obviously not me. “I’ll confirm with Craig, but I need someone on-site for the IRIS implementation.”
Right on cue—click, click, click—Craig’s heels announce his arrival. “Patrick. Ready to head to my office?”
Patrick pushes off the desk. “Sure. Keep up the good work, guys.” He throws us an easy smile and follows Craig.
I release a breath so explosive my glasses fog up.
I whip them off and clean them with my cardigan while Riri stares back at me from the photo, silently judging me from beyond the grave.
I can’t believe Patrick caught me at my most cringeworthy. That memory plays in my head at least three times a day, usually when I’m trying to sleep. Every time, my brain spices it up with bonus humiliations.
Last night’s version? I released a thunderous belch mid-sentence, someone collapsed from secondhand embarrassment, and Patrick had to perform emergency mouth-to-mouth while I wheezed pathetically in the background.
I used to have respectable workplace fantasies. Like Patrick walking by while I’m explaining complex code to Roy. “Georgie,” Patrick would say, his gravelly voice serious and impressed, “that’s brilliant.”
