Page 27

JENNA

“I’ve got to run.” That’s what I told him, and now I’m in my car, speeding home like the cops are on my tail. Running.

Running from something that feels too good to be true. In my weak moments, I let myself believe there is something happening between Geordie and me. Something more than sex, something bigger, deeper, scarier. And I’m running from it.

The thought of Aileen MacDonald—hopeful, ready to welcome me as more than her daughter’s friend—sent me plummeting from the high of lying in Geordie’s arms, feeling wanted for all of me, not just my body. I’m left slumped in a depressing low.

This is exactly why he and I can’t be in a relationship. When it’s just sex, no one gets hurt. If it were to become more—if I was to give in to my selfish wanting, to allow Geordie to have the thing he thinks he wants—well, when the inevitable happens, it will be like a bomb going off. It wouldn’t only obliterate everything between Geordie and me, including our friendship. The rippling wave of fallout will take others down with us. The risk is too great .

I blast down the road, heading for my office, a sanctuary where I can immerse myself in work.

I toss my handbag on the desk and sink into my chair, facing the laptop where I curate perfect lives for my clients—and for myself.

It’s here I construct the version of myself the world sees: the professional, the career woman, my life in order, bravely throwing myself into my new business after losing Mum; but like it is for my clients, it’s a facade. Behind that, I struggle to believe I’m the sort of woman a man could truly love. The last time I fell for someone—let him in, shared the parts of me I rarely show—he rejected me. Now, I’m falling for Geordie MacDonald, but I’m afraid…afraid he’ll see the real me and walk away too.

I go a whole day without seeing or talking to Geordie and I hate it. He texts me all through Friday.

My first glance at my phone on the bedside table:

Geordie: Good morning beautiful

While he’s on a job at the restaurant at Buchanan House:

Geordie: The smell in this kitchen is killing me. Who’d have guessed Brodie could cook so fucking well? Bringing you here for dinner sometime

Parked outside busybody Fran MacMillan’s place:

Geordie: Preparing for interrogation at the hands of Mrs MacM. How fast can I wire in an oven? Wish me luck

Each time I leap at the chirp of the text. Each time my finger lingers over my phone, longing to reply. Each time I tell myself no, not wanting to fall further under the spell of Geordie. Sure, friends text each other. That’s normal. But I’m having a hard time focusing on my work as it is, my mind straying to possibilities of things I can’t have. Conversation with Geordie, even by text, will take us further down a path that can only lead to heartache. I need to keep this thing with him in a nice neat box, namely the four walls of his house.

Finally, at five o’clock, when another text arrives, I succumb.

Geordie: Long day. Off to the pub. Guess you’ve been busy. Time for a drink?

Jenna: Sure I’d love to.

I type the words, then erase them. Too keen?

I type a thumbs up emoji, and then erase that too. It feels blokey.

Jenna: Great. See you in thirty. Smiley emoji.

I stare at the single line, weighing up if I’ve hit it right. I can’t believe a woman with my PR experience, who always knows the exact words, the perfect tone for any written communication, is struggling to compose a simple text. That’s the Geordie effect, right there.

At the pub, I settle myself into the booth, opposite Geordie and alongside Connor’s bulky frame. Nathan’s there too, and the talk is all about the game tomorrow. Even so, I feel their eyes upon us. I can see what they see. Every time we interact. Geordie’s eyes are a little brighter, his smile a little wider. When he banters with me, it’s charged with something small but visible. I mirror it. Without thinking, my body and my words respond instinctively to Geordie, in a way they don’t with anyone else .

When Nathan and Geordie head for the bar, Connor nails me with one of his serious looks. He’s an old soul, this man. That sage-like demeanour he seems to have worn since his teens is another reason I’ve always seen him as just a wise friend. I suspect from his expression he’s about to share a little wisdom with me now.

“So,” he says, rolling the word thoughtfully on his tongue. “How’s it going?” He inclines his head towards Geordie standing at the bar.

“How’s what going?” I purse my lips and raise my brows in mock confusion, scrambling to cover my surprise. If Connor wants to interrogate me, I’m not making it easy. If he’s got a question, I’ll make him spell it out.

Undeterred, he does.

“You and Geordie. Come on Jenna, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“What?” I say, my brows. “Nah, nothing to see there, Connor. Just friends.”

“Is that right?” he says.

“It’s just good to be back amongst people I know. Especially after the last six months.”

I feel a twinge of guilt. I’m not proud of dragging up the horrendous year I’ve lived through to put him off the scent, but I’m desperate. Nathan knows. If Connor knows too, that’s two people who can talk about it. Neither of them are gossips, but it only takes a slip of the tongue when someone else is in earshot and it’ll be all over town.

“Sure,” he says, “as long as you’re OK.”

He stretches a broad arm around my shoulder, giving me a brotherly side-hug. He’s smiling down at me, which is just as well, because he doesn’t see the flash of concern—no, jealousy—that blazes across Geordie’s face. It’s there for an instant and then gone, replaced by his normal cheerful expression as he sets the drinks on the table in front us.

This isn’t good. Sure, we’ve agreed we won’t see anyone else while we’re seeing each other. It’s just common sense. It’d get awkward. So he knows I’m not going to start up something right in front of him, or even in secret. He really has no reason to be jealous of Connor hugging me. It’s Connor.

But when I see Geordie’s possessiveness, I’m worried—for two reasons.

First, it confirms my fear that he’s making too much of this thing between us. And second, I like the way it makes my heart leap way too much.