“McKinnon was probably intimidated by women with functioning brains,” Mary replies lightly.
Duncan laughs loudly before heading back to his table, clearly satisfied with the gossip material he’s collected for the evening.
Once he’s gone, Mary murmurs:
“See? No need to hold hands or make out in front of everyone. We just have to look like we enjoy spending time together.”
She’s right.
And that’s exactly what bothers me.
Because I wasn’t entirely pretending tonight.
We finish our meal. Ewan refuses to let me pay, announcing the dinner is “to celebrate.”
Celebrate what exactly, he doesn’t specify.
Outside, night has fallen. The air is cool and damp, typical Highlands weather this time of year.
Mary zips up her jacket.
“That went well, right?”
“Apparently.”
“Duncan’s going to tell the whole village we had dinner together.”
“I know.”
“By tomorrow afternoon, all of Glenfield will think we’re dating.”
“Probably.”
Mary studies me with a crooked smile.
“You panicking?”
“No.”
“Liar. You have the exact same expression you had when my grandmother asked why you left your previous job.”
“I wasn’t panicking. I was just... surprised.”
“You were absolutely panicking.”
We walk side by side toward the small parking lot. The streets of Glenfield are empty at this hour. Just the two of us and the sound of our footsteps on wet pavement.
“Same time tomorrow?” Mary asks casually.
I stop walking.
“What?”
“If we want this to work, people need to see us together regularly. So. Same time tomorrow?”
I should say no.
I should say this is too much, too fast, too intense.
