Page 72 of The Highland Game

“You two are as bad as bairns!” Elspeth appears in the doorway, radiating disapproval, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “May I remind you both that you’re supposed to be professional young men running an actual business?”

Lewis straightens and flashes her his most charming grin. “How come you always know when there’s a meeting happening that you weren’t invited to? It’s uncanny.”

“This is a meeting, is it? Sure doesn’t look like it.” Elspeth steps into the room like the she owns it, even though technically Lewis is the boss around here.

“Aye, well, we were talking about Maisie’s social media efforts and the new cocktail menu at the Pheasant,” Lewis says. “But it . . . sort of dissolved into me and Emily teasing Jamie about having feelings for Maisie.”

“Absolute lies!” I protest loudly. “I don’t have feelings for Maisie.”

“Oh?” A sly smile tugs at the corners of Elspeth’s mouth, reminding me of a cat about to toy with a trapped mouse. “And yet what’s this I hear about you going up to Maisie’s flat with her the other day? And your hair being more dishevelled when you came back down than when you went up?”

My jaw drops. What bloody sorcery is this? How does she know about that?

Lewis and Emily exchange a look, their eyes lighting up like kids spotting a pile of presents under the Christmas tree. Two seconds later, Lewis doubles over with laughter while Emily leans back in her chair, both hands cradling her baby bump as if it might pop from all the shaking.

Meanwhile, I’m left gaping like a fish out of water. “How . . . how do you even know about that?”

“Oh, Bryce mentioned it yesterday when we were having a wee chat.”

Bloody hell. Can’t Maisie’s da keep his mouth shut?

“It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t what you think it was!” I stammer weakly, even though it was exactly what they think it was.

God, my pulse was already racing from having to fend off Lewis and Emily, but now Elspeth too? This is too much.

“Does anyone else fancy wandering in and joining this meeting uninvited?” I say bitterly, glancing at the door as though daring fate to test me further.

Of course, fate takes me up on the offer.

As if summoned by sheer irony itself—and because life clearly hates me—Iona steps into the office right on cue, still dressed in her farm vet gear, smelling faintly of hay and antiseptic.

Lewis gives Iona a quick kiss then grins like he’s about to spill the juiciest secret of the century. “Guess what? Jamie has a thing for one of your mates!”

“Oh?” Iona blinks with surprise. “Funny, I thought I’d be the one delivering that piece of goss to you. Maisie already spilled the beans.”

My stomach drops. “Maisie told you . . . what exactly?”

“Everything,” she replies in an infuriatingly smug tone.

Lewis perks up like a dog catching the scent of bacon. “Everything? Such as . . . ?”

I throw up my hands, desperate to shut this down before it spirals any further. “Right, that’s enough. We don’t need to⁠—”

“They hooked up on Sunday,” Iona says with all the tact of an air horn.

Kill me now.

“I did not hook up with Maisie!” My protest bursts out with far too much force, making everyone’s eyebrows shoot up in unison. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I try again in a calmer—though no less panicked—tone. “Can we please all watch what we say? This is how rumours start.”

Iona arches an eyebrow. “Well, that’s an interesting take, considering Maisie was quite clear about what happened. And she was, you know . . . there.”

I feel my face heat with the kind of mortification I didn’t think was possible for a grown man to experience. Normally, I’m the one dishing out the teasing and revelling in other people squirming. How the tables turn.

Before I can salvage what’s left of my dignity, Lewis breaks into raucous laughter, a deep belly laugh so loud it seems to shake the walls. This sets off Emily, her giggles punctuated by barely disguised snorts. Elspeth cackles softly while Iona tries—not very hard, mind you—to hide her amusement behind her hand.

And then—oh God—they start chiming in with jokes and prying questions, the kind only nosy family members or highly unprofessional colleagues would dare ask. Heat creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks, the intensity building until something inside me finally gives way.

“All right! That’s enough!” My voice cuts sharply through the laughter, silencing them all.