Page 37 of Plot Twist

‘Be still my beating, romance-writing heart,’ he joked. ‘Right, up this way.’

He gestured as we came to a fork in the road.

I frowned. The path he was pointing to looked like a muddy dirt road, far from the warm and welcoming pub in the town I’d passed a few times on my way to the coffee shop.

‘Up there?’ I raised my eyebrow. ‘Are you planning to take me up a muddy lane so you can murder me in a field and bury the evidence?’

‘Absolutely,’ he replied. ‘After I’ve had a pint though, obviously.’

I glanced down tentatively at my heels. They very much weren’t made for walking, never mind stomping along a muddy path. Going out on the town in Rathcliffe was clearly not the same as Glasgow. A pair of wellies may have been more appropriate attire. It was all right for men; Riley always went between his vast choice of two pairs of shoes: what he called his ‘gutties’ (i.e. his pair of trainers) and black boots; tonight was the latter.

Riley powered on ahead while I struggled to keep my wee toes out of the mud. He barely glanced back, strolling ahead confidently, promising we were about to uncover the town’s best kept secret.

The rain started to intensify and I yelped. Before I knew what was happening, I felt my legs give way. I put my hands down on either side to try and break my fall but wasn’t very successful. My arse cracked against something surprisingly sharp, and I toppled backwards into the mud.

‘Help!’ I cried out feebly.

I lay on the ground, unsure if I could move. The mud felt surprisingly cold and unsurprisingly slimy against my skin. Had I broken something? I felt stiff, sore and, most of all, absolutely fucking mortified. My face burned.

‘Jaysus, Becca, what the hell happened?’

Riley appeared above me, frowning in concern as I lay there.

‘Oh, no big deal, just decided to throw myself into the mud to see what it felt like. Look, I’m fine,’ I insisted, tentatively moving my fingers and then my arms. ‘I think it must’ve been a rock or something.’

I looked like I was trying to make a mud angel.

He leaned down, his face inches from mine.

‘Do you think you’ll be able to move?’ he asked. ‘I’m going to try and pull you up.’

Riley frowned down at me in concern. My arse was throbbing.

‘Yes, go for it,’ I said.

After a one, two, three he hauled me up and a sharp pain shot through my body.

‘Aaaowch,’ I screeched, but found myself in a standing position. My hand flew to the back of my head, and I realised my hair was caked in mud.

Just as I stretched my other hand to check how sore my bum was, the two gold buttons on my blouse popped open, exposing my bra and cleavage to the world. Actually, not the world. Worse, just to Riley, who copped an eyeful and then placed his hands over his eyes as though they were burning, while mumbling that he promised he hadn’t seen a thing.

We both knew otherwise.

I hastily buttoned up my shirt, cursing the faded old bra that had been hiding beneath it. In my attempts to dazzle Riley and prove I could get ready quickly and still look utterly beautiful in ten minutes or less, I’d disregarded the idea of changing my bra and was sporting one that, at one point or another, had actually been cream but was now very much grey.

Zipping up my jacket to contain my cleavage, I winced, with Riley taking his cue to open his eyes again.

‘Come on.’ He moved towards me and gently took my arm as though I was an old lady. ‘Do you think you can walk? What hurts the most?’

‘My pride,’ I admitted. ‘And my arse feels like it’s on fire.’

‘Hot arse from Glasgow coming through!’ he shouted, helping me as I hobbled towards the bar door. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’

‘You just want your pint,’ I grimaced as he opened the door to the pub. ‘Maybe they’ll let you skip the queue once they see your hot date hobbling in, covered in mud with a throbbing arse.’

‘I’ll take you home,’ he promised. ‘We’ll get you a seat, then I’ll nip home and get the car so you don’t have to walk.’

Riley helped as I hobbled towards the bar, lifting my arm to help me sit on the tall bar stool. My right arse cheek stung badly.