Page 70 of The Highland Game

The sex? Phenomenal, obviously. But that’s not what’s got me in knots. Not entirely anyway. Have I replayed that encounter more times than is healthy? Sure. But it’s all the other stuff that takes up more space in my head.

I keep circling back to all those gaming sessions with SassyLassie—how easy it was to chat with her, how she made me laugh harder than anyone else ever has, how she got me in a way no one else seems to. And now, to find out she wasn’t some anonymous online gamer but was actually Maisie from down the road the whole time . . .

Bloody hell, it’s a lot to wrap my head around. Realising that she knew who I was—for at least part of that time—and didn’t tell me stings more than I’d like to admit. It feels like a betrayal. But then there’s the other side of it, the one I keep coming back to no matter how hard my pride tries to steer me away. Because isn’t it kind of amazing? The one person who sees me for who I am has been right under my nose all along. That kind of thing shouldn’t happen in real life, and yet somehow it has.

It’s not that I never noticed Maisie before. I’ve always thought she was cute—gorgeous, even—but it wasn’t her looks that drew me to her when I met her online. Back then, she was just a fiery-haired mage with an annoying knack for outsmarting me at every turn. It was her sharp tongue that got to me: her wicked humour, the way she could cut me down and make me laugh in the same breath.

I miss the banter she and I used to have. But more than that, I crave it in real life. I crave her in real life.

But Maisie has made things very clear: nothing can happen between us so long as this beer garden remains in operation. She’s drawn her line in the sand, and I’m standing on the wrong side of it. If I want there to be an “us”—if I want even half a chance to see where this could go—I have to walk away from everything I’ve worked so hard to build here.

What kind of choice is that?

I head into the snug to prep a drinks order, still mulling over all things Maisie, when Emily ambles in behind me, one hand resting on her bump. “There you are! Have you seen what Maisie has done?”

I freeze, a pint glass poised under the tap. “What?” The word comes out sounding far too interested—at least to my ears—so I clear my throat and pour the lager with forced nonchalance. Just a bloke pulling a pint, nothing to see here.

Emily, apparently oblivious to my overreaction, taps her phone a few times then slides it across the bar towards me. “Watch this.”

Maisie’s head and shoulders fill the small screen. Her hair is different now, a vibrant red streaked with orange and yellow highlights that catch the sunlight. What a striking contrast to her green eyes. She looks bloody incredible—like she’s been kissed by flames—and it ignites something in me that I’m desperately trying to extinguish.

But as stunning as she looks, my gaze snags on the username hovering over the social media clip: SassyLassie. Her gaming alias. And now Maisie in the flesh mirrors the blazing hair she always had in the game, the fire spells she’d unleash . . .

“Want to know a secret?” Maisie raises an eyebrow at the camera before it pans out dramatically to reveal she’s wearing a cropped tartan top and a denim skirt—sexy as hell—and is standing in the middle of a circle of standing stones. “That steamy scene in last night’s episode of Highland Legacy? The one where Callum and Isla finally gave in to their desires?” She winks, and it’s the kind of wink that could bring grown men to their knees—God knows I’m one of them. “It was filmed right here!”

A wistful Celtic melody plays in the background as Maisie continues. “The stones you see around me are have stood here for over four thousand years. Some say they’re buzzing with natural magical energy, though I can’t promise you’ll see fire and water collide like in last night’s episode, when our favourite mages decided to, ahem, combine their powers.” She smirks. “If you’re as big a fan of Highland Legacy as I am, you’ll want to visit this place. And while you’re at it, don’t miss the charming wee town of Bannock just down the road.”

The video transitions smoothly from the timeless mystique of the stone circle to the unhurried rhythm of Bannock’s Main Street, where Maisie now stands in front of her and her father’s pub.

“Pop into the Pheasant for a true taste of Highland hospitality,” she says before quick cuts show off its cosy interior: laughing locals, plates of hearty food being served. All familiar sights until Maisie appears again behind the bar, holding up a vibrant red cocktail garnished with a chilli pepper. “And if you’re feeling adventurous, try our brand-new cocktail menu—we’re putting the finishing touches to it now. My personal favourite? The Highlander’s Secret. It’s as bold and spicy as last night’s episode!” She raises her glass. “Sláinte mhath! See you in Bannock!”

For several seconds after it ends, I just stand there like someone switched off my brain and forgot to reboot it.

Emily says, “Check out how many views the video has got. It’s gone viral! The latest episode of Highland Legacy has social media in a frenzy, and Maisie’s video dropped at exactly the right time. Talk about clever. And look! You have to see some of the comments people have been leaving her.”

She scrolls through them, and I read a few as they briefly appear on her screen:

Love the Pheasant’s vibe! And your smile is contagious.

Your accent is adorable! Can you narrate my life, please?

Loving the Highland Legacy references, but I’m more interested in the person behind the bar. Single?

Your energy is infectious! Makes me want to book a trip to Scotland right now.

OMG, your style is so unique. Love it!

Bloody hell. That question about whether she’s single hits me right in the chest.

“Also, a cocktail menu?” Emily says. “That’s new. Looks like Maisie is upping her game, fighting back against the beer garden already. Maybe we should get you on social media too, shaking up some fancy cocktails.”

I run a hand through my hair, messing it up. “Er, not sure about that. I doubt people would be as keen to watch me as they are Maisie. She’s kind of . . .” I gesture at Emily’s phone. “. . . nice to look at, you know?”

A slow smile spreads across Emily’s face. “Oh, is she now?”

Heat creeps up my neck. Damn it. I walked right into that one.

I get on with my day, trying to focus on work, but every time I get a moment to myself—which, admittedly, isn’t often given how busy we are—I find myself reaching for my phone to watch Maisie’s video again. The view count keeps climbing higher and higher, and I’m not even a little bit surprised. There’s something magnetic about her, something that draws you in and makes you want to stick around.