Page 41 of The Highland Fling

Grace holds my gaze for a few seconds more then bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Er . . . did I miss something?”

“I know why you didn’t sleep, Aidan.”

I chuckle nervously. “You do?”

She smirks and crosses her arms. “Yep. I felt you getting hard.”

“Shit! I’m really sorry, I just—”

“You’re sorry? There’s no need to apologise. I was rubbing against you quite vigorously. It was a pretty natural reaction.”

“Right . . .” Frowning, I scratch my head. “Sorry, but I don’t know what’s going on here. I thought we were keeping this platonic?”

“We are. That wasn’t sexual. That was just . . . a prank. You did say I needed to practise my teasing.”

I nod slowly. “Okay. Er . . . it’s just . . . it was an odd kind of prank.”

There’s a click, and Grace—fighting to keep a straight face—points. “Look, the toast has popped up—just like your willy did last night!”

My cheeks flush. I’m not used to this sort of dynamic. I can’t remember a woman ever having made me feel embarrassed about sex before. “I . . . honestly don’t know what’s going on. And what adult says ‘willy’?”

She giggles as she plates the toast then brings it over to the table. “Well, you kept on laughing the other day when I said ‘penis’, so I thought I’d try a different word.”

I’m lost, with no road map for navigating this situation, and yet Grace’s cheeky smile is infectious. Despite my confusion, I can’t help but grin too. This is a brand-new side to her, and while it’s taken me by surprise, I quite like it.

“Why not ‘dick’ or ‘cock’?” I question.

She frowns and shakes her head. “No, those are way too vulgar.” The kettle clicks off, so she fills the two mugs with boiling water.

“Okay,” I say, still puzzled but trying my best to play along with whatever is going on here. “Except . . . I don’t know if I can think of it as my ‘willy’. That’s pretty emasculating.”

This earns me a pitying look. “Oh dear, Aidan. It’s an insecure man who’s emasculated by a word.”

“Wow! You really aren’t pulling your punches this morning. You know, some people might say it was a pretty mean prank. I’m normally very sexually active, but it’s been a long time since I had sex—I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long, in fact—so someone rubbing up against me as a ‘prank’ . . . no wonder I hardly slept.”

Putting down the mugs and joining me at the table, she glances at me curiously. “Why haven’t you been having sex?”

I scoff. “Are you being serious? You dropped a pretty big bombshell on me six weeks ago. Did you really think I’d be going around having casual hook-ups after that? I’ve not exactly been in the mood—I’ve been trying to get my head around the news and figure out how this is all going to work.”

“Oh.” She sips her tea. “Well, I’m sorry if my prank upset you. It always hurts when you finally get a taste of your own medicine.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “Are you really comparing my teasing to yours? They’re on completely different levels.”

We catch eyes, and man, even if I don’t know what’s going on, my heart does this odd wee jump. But . . . we have to be careful. Grace may be the one who set the rules, but she had good reasons for them. We’re having a kid together. We need to be responsible.

I grab a piece of toast and butter it. “So . . . there’s this Benjamin Franklin quote the McIntyre brothers are fond of. It goes: Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.”

“Wow! Did Ally tell Emily that one when she booked into the hotel for a month?”

I grin. “My point is, I’ve already stayed at yours for two nights. Why don’t I stay one final night then head home to Bannock tomorrow? I’m sure you’d appreciate getting the place back to yourself.”

Something flashes across Grace’s face—disappointment? Whatever it is, she only lets it show for a moment.

“Anyway,” I continue, “I made you dinner yesterday, but if you’ll let me stay one more night, I’d like to go one better. May I take you out for a meal, somewhere fancy?”

“Like . . . a date?”