Page 7 of The Highland Game

CHAPTER THREE

MAISIE

It’s a perfect spring day in our wee town, and Bannock’s Main Street looks idyllic in the sun. The old stone buildings, weathered but proud, are brought to life by the cheerful splash of yellow daffodils spilling from flower boxes. As pretty as the sight is, I’m too preoccupied to properly appreciate it. I can’t stop thinking about LochNLoad. The idea that my gaming buddy might be Jamie bloody McIntyre is doing my head in.

“Maisie! Wait there a moment!”

I glance across the street and see Elspeth Stewart waving at me. She’s walking Bruce, Iona and Lewis’s dog, and when the big black Lab spots me, his tail wags so furiously it sends his whole body into a joyful, wiggling frenzy. Elspeth and Bruce cross over to join me.

“Hiya, Elspeth. And hi, Bruce, you big sook.” I bend down to scratch Bruce behind the ears. “How are you both?”

“Oh, can’t complain.” Elspeth’s hair, once as blonde as her daughter’s, has softened into a crown of silver, framing a face gently etched with laughter lines. “But how about you? You’re looking very pensive today. Everything all right?”

I force a smile. “Aye, just a lot on my mind.”

She nods sympathetically. “I hope this isn’t prying, but the reason I stopped you is because I was actually wanting to ask you about your father. He didn’t look himself at the quiz last night. Is he feeling okay?”

I consider brushing off her concern, but Elspeth, with her gentle demeanour and connection to Iona, feels safe. So instead I let out a small sigh. “Honestly? I don’t think so, but he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

“Ah. Men, eh? That sounds like Bryce, all right.”

Bruce’s ears perk up at the name, and his tail thumps against Elspeth’s leg.

“I said Bryce, not Bruce, you silly boy.” Elspeth chuckles and pats his head. “Although to be fair, your name and Maisie’s father’s do sound very similar.”

The dog tilts his head quizzically, and Elspeth and I both laugh.

“Anyway, your da should really go see the doctor and get himself checked out,” Elspeth says.

“I’ve tried telling him that but he won’t listen to me. Maybe if you said something . . .”

Elspeth reaches out and squeezes my arm, the contact warm and comforting. “Leave it with me. I’ll have a word next time I see him. With both of us on his case, he might just cave, eh?”

“Thanks, Elspeth. I appreciate it.”

We chat for a few more minutes before parting ways. I continue down the street a short distance then head into Bannock Stores, the bell above the door jingling as I step inside.

I grab a basket and pick up a few supplies—bread, milk, custard creams (an essential purchase on every visit)—then I go over to the drinks fridge, my eyes scanning the shelves for Gaelic Fire, my favourite energy drink. I’ve been hooked on it since LochNLoad mentioned it during one of our late-night gaming sessions. There’s a single can left, and I’m just about to grab it when my phone pings.

Da

We need teabags. Could you pick up some?

Maisie

Of course x

I return my phone to my back pocket then reach for the Gaelic Fire, but as I do, someone else goes for it too. Warm skin brushes mine as both my hand and the other person’s close around the cool metal can. Startled, I glance sideways and come face-to-face with Jamie McIntyre. Okay, more like face-to-chest because he’s so bloody tall. My gaze travels upwards until it locks on to those hazel eyes flecked with gold and brimming with far too much mischief.

“Great minds drink alike, eh?” he says in his low voice.

His chestnut hair is a charming mess, as though he’s just rolled out of bed. I definitely don’t want to ruffle it—just as I don’t find the tiny freckle at the corner of his left eye utterly adorable, and just as I have no wish whatsoever to trace the faint stubble along his jawline with my fingertips.

Get it together, Maisie. Jamie McIntyre is an arse. Don’t forget that.

But, seriously, how come someone so irritating looks this good? It’s not fair. Like, not at all.

He arches a brow, his lips curving into a slow, maddening grin. “Er . . . your hand is touching mine. Are you going to let go of the can?”