Finally, they’d gotten their shit together, started a casual thing that anyone with a brain could see was going to blow up in their faces. I’d never seen my best mate so gone for a woman. It was a relief to all involved when Beth and Callan admitted they were in love and got engaged.
The bonus for Callan was Beth’s parents. My mate had lost his mum and stepdad when he was a teenager. His dad was the shittiest dad that existed. He was so bad, it mademe glad mine was in the fucking wind. Braden was an overprotective father and was slow to trust anyone with Beth. But he was a good guy. He recognized Callan was serious about her. And since he knew Callan’s dad from back in the day, he also knew what Callan had to deal with. He’d set aside protective dad mode and set about making Callan feel like a son.
For that alone, Braden would have my loyalty and thanks. The fact that his experience in the business world and in real estate was making our investment in Blantyre worthwhile was second to what he’d done for Callan personally.
“Your mind is elsewhere,” John observed, hands in his pockets as we walked through the castle and onto the grounds where a table had been laid out. Servers waited to serve us lunch. This was the life, eh?
“Just wondering if you’re happy?” I responded, not untruthfully.
My friend sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m not depressed about not playing … but I’m into this.” He gestured around us. “More than I thought I’d be. And it is the smarter avenue to invest my energy in. Football players retire early even when there are teams clambering to sign them.”
That they did. Which was why Callan and I had started our property management business five years ago, making sure we invested our six-figure contract money into something that would last beyond our football years.
I’d always assumed I would retire in my late thirties either because I’d aged out or because of injury.
Now I wasn’t so sure about anything. Especially after finally admitting my fears out loud to Maia.
We took a seat at the table with Callan and Braden.Callan’s soon-to-be father-in-law was tall, broad of shoulder, thick of biceps. There was no middle-aged belly to be found on the bloke. The guy was kind of my hero. I saw women checking him out all the time, even though he didn’t so much as glance at them. I wouldn’t either with a sexy wife like his. Not that I’d say that to his face. I’d learned the hard way when I flirted with Joss Carmichael at one of their house parties. Braden Carmichael was possessive, even decades into their marriage. He’d given me a look that might have killed a lesser man. And when I’d responded, “Got it. No flirt-y without permission-y,” Joss had gently shoved me away and whisper-shouted, “Run. Save yourself.”
I think she was only partly joking.
Once the food was in front of us, Braden took a sip of coffee and eyed me with a glint in his steely blue gaze I wasn’t sure I understood or liked. “So … the social media campaign for Pennington’s is going well.”
John groaned as Callan grimaced.
Braden frowned. “What? Did I say something out of turn?”
John shook his head. “I just … wouldn’t bring it up.”
I’d told the lads about my fight with Maia, mostly because Callan already knew. I’d told them the truth about everything (John had already guessed, anyway) and explained I’d confessed all to her and that Maia was taking her sweet time processing. I didn’t tell them she was also texting me every day out of concern and how much that wasn’t helping me not love her more than I already fucking did.
Braden narrowed his eyes on me. “What did you do?”
“Me?” I huffed indignantly. “Why do you assume it was me?”
“Maia is like a niece to me,” he explained, his tone filled with warning. “Until proven otherwise, you’re the guilty party. What happened?”
Shit. I forgot these people were like a fucking Scottish clan of old. They all saw one another as family, even though they weren’t blood related. I usually thought it was class. But not now because it also meant they all thought they were entitled to know everything that was going on within their clan.
“Just tell him.” Callan shrugged. “You’ve already told her, and she’s probably told her mum and dad.”
“I haven’t told her everything. I don’t want to frighten her off.”
“Whathaveyou told her?” Braden asked with a casualness that belied his predatory countenance.
These fucking clansmen.
Ach, well, what did it matter, anyway? “The campaign was fake. Maia got roped into it at work and needed a fiancé fast after she and Will broke up. I stepped up to the plate and agreed to be her fake fiancé and marry her for the campaign.”
“What?” Braden shook his head and turned to Callan. “See what you inspired?” He referred to the fact that Callan and Beth started out as a fake relationship because Beth was trying to deter a bloke who fancied her and could mess with her business if she turned him down. Not that most people knew that at the time. They’d confessed it all later.
Callan snorted before taking a sip of water.
Braden turned back to me. “Being straightforward usually works better.”
“Does it?” I scrubbed a hand over my beard. “I only said yes because I have real feelings for Maia and thought this would finally wake her up to what she and I couldhave. But I told her I really care about her, and I said she should take time to think about it … and fuuuuuck, is she taking time.”
The older man considered me. “Is Maia just a passing fancy or?—”
