“Well… that was Gouda.”
I glare up at him. “I hope you trip over a Cheddar and die.”
His mouth twitches. “Only if you deliver the eulogy.” He leans in even closer, and adds with a conspiratorial whisper in my ear, “In iambic pentameter.”
Before I can throw a wheel of Brie at his smug, beautiful face, a gloved hand appears between us.
“Lady Price,” comes a deep theatrical voice.
I blink up, and there he is: the man from the maze, this time in a perfectly tailored navy doublet, mask gleaming gold under the torchlight. His blond hair catches the glow and looks like it was styled by angels with excellent taste.
He bows low, the picture of courtly drama. “I leave you alone for a few hours and you declare war on the dairy kingdom.Permit me the honour of rescuing thee from thy most… pungent tragedy.”
I blink again. The room is still spinning, a blur of flickering candlelight, spilled wine, and slightly trampled Gouda.
I take his hand, because standing on my own suddenly feels impossible and Tyler’s attention is impossible to ignore.
The stranger sweeps me up, spins me once, and whisks me towards the dance floor, entirely unconcerned by the cheese smeared down my dress, leaving Tyler crouched amid crushed Camembert and something that almost looks like regret.
Chapter 15
Boobs. Out. Battle Stations
Hayley
My rescuer’s hand is warm and confident in mine as he sweeps me away from the cheese crime scene, spinning us onto the dance floor with the kind of effortless grace that makes people stop and watch.
“Ben’s told me a lot about you,” he says with a grin, settling one hand at my waist as the string quartet slides into something vaguely waltz-like. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m Karl. School friend. Occasional therapist. Now a rare cheese enthusiast.”
“Of course you are,” I say, trying not to look like I’m still traumatised by my dairy dive. “I have a feeling only atrue professional could extract a woman from a Camembert catastrophe with such style.”
Karl laughs. “It’s a niche skill, but someone’s got to have it.”
We begin to move, gently at first, as the lights shift and the staff start ferrying away half-squashed Brie wheels and grapes that now look less like hors d’oeuvres and more like the first stage of winemaking.
My cheeks are still hot, my limbs still jelly, but Karl keeps me steady, his movements fluid, his smile easy, his whole presence annoyingly disarming.
He’s handsome. Effortlessly so. And mercifully not in character anymore.
I let myself relax… until I glance across the room at Tyler.
He’s standing near the mead ‘tavern,’ mask tilted slightly, jaw sharp, eyes locked on me.
Which would be fine, if not for the fact that draped over his arm like a designer handbag is the tall, stunning woman with cheekbones carved from marble and a waist so cinched it could get sucked into a Dyson.
I narrow my eyes. She’s laughing at something. Flicking her hair. Touching his arm like she’s already picked out the wedding china.
I nod towards them, keeping my voice breezy. “Friend of yours?”
Karl follows my gaze. “Oh. That’s Helen.”
My stomach dips.
Karl doesn’t seem to notice. “Tyler’s ex. Lawyer from the city. Super clever. Super… intense. She really hates that Ben and Lily paired her up withmefor the weekend, hence my hanging out with you, hope you don’t mind?”
I blink, trying not to look like I care one way or the other. “Not at all,” I say lightly, pretending that doesn’t hurt, though my grip on Karl’s shoulder tightens just a little.“And she’s just… here?”
He shrugs. “It’s complicated. They were together for a while. I think she still wants him back.”
