“Ilovestrawberries.” I practically bounce.
Alec’s hand clamps down hard on my thigh. “Stop. Moving,” he orders.
I look back at him through my lashes. “Why? Is there a problem?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” I squidge back against him, feeling something hard press against my arse. He hisses and slips a hand under the blanket. I go very still as he cups my arse cheek, nudging the very tip of the plug with his fingertip.
The picnic disappears. The loch fades away. My entire world narrows to that one quivering spark of awareness inside me. It electrifies me. I can’t help the gasp that falls out of my mouth.
Both Fraser and Cameron look at me.
“Um,” I stammer. Alec’s finger is still nudging the plug, drawing tiny circles with the end of it. I can barely think. My body keeps clenching. “Yes. Strawberries. I love them.”
“I know,” Cameron says, handing me a warm roll filled with butter.
“You do? How?”
He looks at me like I’m a bit thick. “Because you post pictures of everything you eat,” he says flatly.
I blink at him. “I… Wait. Do you follow me on social media?”
There’s no way, right? I’m not sure I’ve seen Cameron use his phone for anything other than making calls.
“No.”
“Oh, don’t lie to her,” Fraser says cheerfully, leaning back on one arm. “He’s on your accounts all the time.”
“What?” I genuinely cannot believe this. “Let me see. What’s your username?” I fumble for my phone and then realise I don’thave it. Alec silently offers me his, and I open the Picturegram webpage.
“It’s ShirtlessShepherdxoxo,” Fraser says. I choke.
“He set it up,” Cameron mutters. “I don’t know how to change it.”
I start tapping at Alec’s phone. “Crap. Is shepherd with an E or an A?”
“E,” Alec says, looking over my shoulder. I can feel his smile against my cheek as Cameron’s profile loads.
It’s empty. The profile picture is an uncentred photo of him scowling at the camera. He has no followers and is only following one account. Me.
My eyes well.
“Why is she crying,” Cameron says.
“Cameron,” I croak. “Did you make an account just to follow me?”
“S’your job,” he says, after a moment. “I like your pictures.”
Pride floods me. “Youdo?” For some reason, this massive grumpy man saying he likes my work is more exciting than any amount of likes.
“Oh, aye,” Fraser says. “He’s a big fan of that one of you on the beach in that wee pink bikini, pretty sure he’s stared at that for hours?—”
Cameron physically shoves a roll into Fraser’s mouth. “Shut up and eat.” He glowers at me. “Eat,” he orders.
Alec obligingly picks up one of the hand pies and holds it to my mouth. “Come on now,” he says quietly. “Don’t be rude. He made it all for you.”
Buzzing with emotion, I let him feed me. The four of us settle into the meal. The lamplight flickers over us, and the stars reflect off the mirror-like surface of the loch as we eat. I try to relax, but my mind is elsewhere.
