Chapter Eight

Mackenzie

Will wasn’t joking when he said the accommodation was basic. There’re bunks on one side, and what I guess is a sofa bed on the other, and the walls curve up to the ceiling. Cozy for a couple, but I can’t imagine squeezing a whole family in here.

And we’re sharing this tiny space for the whole weekend.

My stomach churns, and I don’t know if it’s through nerves or excitement. No way did I think we were going to share our sleeping arrangements. Not that it changes anything. He’s not the kind of guy who’d try and make a girl feel awkward.

Despite our Monday night kiss, he hasn’t touched me since, not even by accident. He’s obviously one hundred percent committed to keeping everything platonic between us.

That’s good. After all, I’m committed, too. But it doesn’t stop the wistful regret squeezing my chest. Stop right there. I have to get over my infuriating obsession with him. It’s an effort, but I manage to sling him a careless grin. “I stand by my adorable hobbit home comment.”

He grunts, puts my bag on the sofa, and takes his from me. “I brought some provisions.”

“Okay.” He dumps his bag on the tiny workbench next to the sink at the far end of the pod. A fun idea hits me from out of the blue. “Did you bring marshmallows? We can toast them on the fire pit tonight.” I’ve never done anything like that before, but how cool would it be to sit under the stars together, huddled next to our very own fire pit?

“No, I didn’t.” He sounds as though I’m mocking him, and my grin slides off my face. “Just tea and coffee.” He pulls the boxes from his bag. “There’s a village not far from here. The pub does great food. Thought we could eat there, save having to cook.”

“You can show me your mad skills when it comes to the kitchen. I’ll buy, you cook.” Could I sound any more desperate to spend time with him?

He leans his back against the sink and gives me a slow, sexy, smile. A thousand butterflies collide low in my stomach, sending spirals of need between my thighs. I really need to work on not melting under the lethal heat of his gaze. “Hard-boiled eggs and cold beans?”

I give a fake shudder in the hope it hides my stupid grin. “No way. You can barbecue something.” I’m guessing that’d be easier than using the tiny two-burner stove behind him.

“Okay. Tomorrow night I’ll rock your world.”

His comment hangs between us, like a molten promise sliding over my skin. The limited oxygen in the compact space heats up to combustible levels, and it’s getting harder to breathe without panting. He’s just flirting. He wasn’t being literal. Friends flirt all the time. But because we’re working on the whole platonic side of things, I squash my natural response to give him a teasing comeback.

Then he blinks, as though he’s only just got the double entendre and can’t believe it slipped out.

I keep a fixed smile on my face, as a hot wave of mortification sweeps through me. It’s only awkward inside my head. Stay cool, and with a bit of luck, he won’t guess where my mind descended. What a relief I didn’t say anything out loud. Although, since when has he ever not got the dirty double meaning of anything before it leaves his mouth?

“Right.” He grabs his bag and squeezes by me, as though if we accidentally touch the whole place will go up in flames. “I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. I’ll come back in half an hour, give you a tour?”

It’s a question, but what the hell is he talking about? “Where’re you going?”

He gives a vague shrug. “Back to reception.”

I shoot a glance at his bag. No way. “You’re not sleeping there tonight, are you?”

He lets out a pained breath. “No. I’m going to sleep on one of the guys’ sofas. It’s not a problem. I’ve done it before.”

Not a problem? My entire body burns, and not in a good way. Before I can do the whole cool, calm, and collected thing, the word vomit spews.

“My God, Will. Do you honestly think I can’t control myself around you so much that I’ll jump your bones as soon as you’re asleep?”

Well done, Mackenzie. I started an argument within half an hour of arriving. Are my pathetic urges that obvious? I was so sure I’d managed to bury them. Obviously, that was a fail. Seems like the only way I can be in the same room as Will without him guessing I still have a thing for him is if I hide behind my shield of snark.

So much for all my good intentions.

Now would be a good time to sink through the floor and disappear.

“I wish,” he growls under his breath. My humiliated self-preservation diatribe screeches to a halt, mid-thought.

“What?”

He takes a deep breath as though he’s about to confess to murder. “It’s not going to happen. I get that. But I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable or…whatever…this weekend. Don’t want you thinking I set you up. They must’ve had a last-minute booking. Midweek, there were two pods available.”

I have the scary urge to laugh. Not just because he didn’t guess I haven’t totally managed to put him in the friend-zone yet, but because he’s obviously in the same boat.

That isn’t a good thing. I know that. But the relief is great.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t think you set me up. Seriously. It’s not like we haven’t shared a room before.”

Whoa. Heat blasts through me at my gall. It’s the first time either of us has alluded to that night. By the shock on his face, he can’t believe I did, either.

“Yes. And look what happened.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” I’m not sure that came out quite the way I meant. Luckily, he grins. Then again, it takes a lot to offend him. I should know, considering all the practice I’ve had over the last couple of years.

“But not something we should ever repeat.”

The words hang there, like an unexplored labyrinth of truth and dare. He’s still smiling, as though we’re just having a laugh, but under the surface, tension ripples.

It’s not all in my mind. He’s looking at me the way he did that Christmas, before we slipped out of the party and ended up in his room. There are a thousand reasons why we should never do that again. And I can’t think of a single one.

Maybe Brooklyn had the right idea when she shoved those condoms in my bag last night?

I clear my throat and rake through my mind for a flirty response. Except all the upper functions of my brain have gone AWOL.

But I need to say something.

“Because that would be a disaster.” My voice is all breathy, as though I mean the complete opposite of what I’m saying. Do I?

God, no. We can’t go there again.

Can we?

He looks wary, like he doesn’t believe me. Am I really that transparent to him? My breath stalls in my throat, and it’s like time stands still.

“Mac.” His voice is husky, and it’s the sexiest sound ever. Stop thinking about him like that. But it’s a faint demand, a reminder I don’t want to hear because the heat in his eyes is incinerating my wavering protests.

And then someone raps on the half-open front door, and a perky feminine voice slams through my lustful haze. “Hey, Will!”

…

Will

What the fuck?

I straighten so fast, I get whiplash. What just went down here?

Nothing. But I can’t shift the feeling that whatever we said, we meant something else entirely.

You’re losing it. Like Mac pointed out, if we cross that line it’d be a disaster.

There’s no time to figure out if I made a prat of myself. Luce is standing by the door, a big grin on her face as she glances between Mac and me. I run my hand over my head and drop my rucksack onto the sofa.

“Hey,” I respond. I sound rat-arsed, despite not having had anything to drink since Tuesday night. It’s an effort to focus when all my blood has migrated south. “Mac, this is Lucinda, one of the partners of Oakland. Luce, meet Mackenzie.”

“Hi.” Is it my imagination or is Mac’s voice unnaturally loud? It’s your guilty conscience.

“Hey, Mackenzie. I just dropped by to make sure everything’s okay. And invite you to a barbecue tonight.”

“Oh,” Mac says. “That sounds great. Thanks.”

Luce transfers her gaze to me. It’s hard to tell, but I think she’s smirking behind her smile. Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to bring Mac here? My Uni mates can be real dicks at times. “See you about seven, then? Bring beer.”

She saunters off, and I exhale a long breath. It’s almost four, and I didn’t bring any beer with me. I turn to Mac, who’s retreated to the other side of the pod. Not that it makes much difference. One false move and we’ll collide with each other.

In your dreams, mate.

“The grand tour will have to wait. Want to come with me to the village?”

“Sure.” She checks her phone before sliding it into her back pocket. As I shut the door behind us, I catch sight of my rucksack on the sofa. There’s no way I can resist her in close quarters like this.

Where the hell am I sleeping tonight?

It doesn’t take long to drive to the village, and I park behind the tourist center. There’s one main street, with numerous inns and B&Bs, and we walk along the cobbled pavement toward the supermarket.

“I love this place.” Mac’s gazing at the medieval church that sits by the edge of the river. “If you could just get rid of the traffic, it’s like stepping back in time.”

I glance at the array of shops that sell everything from mountaineering and climbing equipment to Welsh tapestry gifts. “You’ve a great imagination.”

“Not to be rude,” she says, and I brace myself for exactly that, “but I’m surprised your best mates from Uni set up this kind of thing. I would’ve thought they’d all be into insurance and finance in the city.”

“Nah. I always hung out with the adrenaline junkies.”

“I know you’ve always loved sport.” She gives me a sideways glance. “I remember you were on crutches for half of Year Eleven.”

I’m chuffed she remembers that, considering how long ago it was. “Yeah. Fun times.” Fun for me. For my parents, not so much. Although I was never in the same league as Lucas when it came to football, I played just about every sport going, and made a couple of local youth teams. And while I suffered plenty of injuries, it was the sprained ankle from rugby that was the most conspicuous. “I would’ve done anything to take Harry’s place when you three did that summer mountaineering course.”

“Is that why you come here so often? So you can do rock climbing and stuff?”

“Partly.” I push open the door to the supermarket for her. “But nothing beats being here, seeing how it’s working out. Emailed reports only go so far.”

“Reports?” she echoes as she picks up a basket. “What, you mean you have a personal stake in the company?”

I take the basket from her. “I’m one of the partners.” Funny, for some reason I thought she already knew that. Although, since I hadn’t told her, that doesn’t make any sense. “Another few years, and I’ll be joining them full time.”

She gazes at me in obvious amazement. “Wow. That’s…” She hesitates, as though words fail her. And considering this is Mackenzie, that’s really saying something. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Unbelievable?” I give her a grin, so she doesn’t guess it matters to me what she thinks. At least unbelievable isn’t as bad as irresponsible, which is the word my parents used in connection with my ambitions.

“No. Just surprising. I mean, you’ve always worked in the city. I thought that’s what you wanted.” An odd expression flashes over her face, gone in a second. What’s that about? It was almost as if she understood. “You’re really going to do it?”

“Not yet,” I admit, and it’s like ashes on my tongue. “Soon.”

Her smile is soft, without a hint of the mockery she usually aims my way. Not for the last week, though. Guess I owe Jake Myers one. If not for him, Mac and I would never have gone out for lunch and sorted shit out. And there’s no way I would’ve asked her here or shared my future plans with her.

Or be fighting a losing battle to do the right thing tonight and go sleep in the car.