Not So Happily Ever After (British Bad Boys)

by Phillips, Christina

  Not often enough.

  “I like the change of scene.”

  “I didn’t think you could live without your weekend clubbing.”

  “Hey, you don’t know everything about me.”

  “That’s for sure.” She smiles, and it’s so damn hard not to take her hand and to hell with the fallout. “A weekend in Wales sounds…perfect, really.”

  I’ve no idea if she’s serious or not, but I can’t get the image of her in Wales, with me, out of my head.

  Don’t fucking ask her. And not because she might say no. It’s because a whole weekend with her will test my self-control to its limits.

  But I’ve always enjoyed living dangerously.

  “Come with me. It’ll be fun.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mackenzie

  What the bloody hell possessed me to say yes?

  I finish changing the oil in Dad’s car and wipe my hands on a rag. It’s been eighteen hours since I breezily said “sure, why not?” to Will’s question before I had the chance to remember all the reasons why I should just say no.

  So now he’s picking me up on Friday morning for a long weekend in the Welsh mountains, where he’s promised me a day of canoeing. We’d no sooner made that arrangement than we were swept back into the party, so there was no getting out of it.

  I don’t want to get out of it.

  I’m an adult. I can handle being with him for a weekend. It’s not like we’re going to be on our own. His Uni mates are there.

  It’s no big deal.

  Why am I making it one, then?

  You know why.

  Luckily, I’m saved from having an argument with myself as my phone rings.

  It’s from…Jake?

  When he put me on speed dial while I was with him in the hospital, I didn’t think much of it. Definitely didn’t believe he’d ever use it.

  To be honest, I didn’t think much about it at all. Mostly I was trying not to make a total idiot of myself in front of Will.

  That’ll teach me. It doesn’t stop my stomach from pitching. Please don’t have changed your mind about the fundraiser. I take a breath and answer. “Hey.”

  “Mac.” His panic is obvious. “I can’t do this.”

  Aw, hell. Why did Brooklyn have to be right when she didn’t think we’d reassured Jake the other day?

  So much for Atomic Fire being back on track. And what about the party?

  Okay. Calm down. Think of the alternative if Jake decides to pull out. I can do this. “Remember, you said you’d give it a couple of weeks before you made any decisions. You’re going to be gorgeous again before you know it.”

  Maybe I should’ve said he’s still gorgeous?

  “It’s the crutches. I can’t make them fucking work.”

  The crutches? Seriously, am I his own personal medical advisor?

  Focus, Mac. At least he’s not freaking out over his bruise and scratches.

  “It can take a bit of practice to get the hang of them.” Something occurs to me. “Why don’t you have a wheelchair?”

  “The crutches looked cool.”

  Right. I should’ve guessed he chose his medical appliances based on their apparent coolness. “Wheelchairs are awesome.”

  There’s a long silence. I’ve no clue whether he’s considering my comment or sulking because I didn’t commiserate on how difficult life is with crutches.

  “You think?” Doubt drips from each word, but at least he’s not dismissing my suggestion out of hand. I’ll take that as a good sign.

  “You should totally give it a try. Tell Baz to get it sorted.”

  It takes a little more persuasion, but finally Jake is optimistic enough for me to end the call.

  I shove my phone back into my pocket just as Dad arrives home with Margo and Duke. Margo used to be Mum’s best friend, and she’s like an auntie to me. And Dad and Duke go way back to their university days, before Duke became a mega-famous rock star, although now he’s more well known for his activism.

  She parks on the drive behind Dad’s car, and they get out and come over to me.

  “Did you have a good lunch?” I ask as she kisses my cheek.

  “Lovely,” she says, glancing at Dad, who’s frowning at the exposed engine of his car as though he has no idea what it is.

  “Do you think the car needs to go in for a service?”

  I slam the bonnet shut and grin at him. “It was just an oil change. Seeing as I’ve driven it more than you during the last couple of months, it’s only fair I make sure the engine doesn’t blow up.”

  “More than fair,” Margo agrees.

  “You all right, darlin’?” Duke gives me a bear hug before we make our way inside the house. “I heard about Jake. Lucas should’ve sent me to sort the little bugger out.”

  “He did break a leg.”

  “That’s not why he wanted to chuck in the towel.”

  I’m compelled to defend Jake, for no other reason than I happen to know Duke scares the living shit out of him. “Everything’s fine, now.” Mentally, I cross my fingers. “They’re having a party next week to celebrate not dying.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He shudders. “Fucking boy bands. Do my head in.”

  We end up in the kitchen, and Dad puts the kettle on. As Margo gets the cups, she glances at me. “Are you doing anything at the weekend?”

  I’m spending it with Will Hamilton. Why does that sound like we’re having a dirty weekend away, when it’s a completely innocent thing between two old friends?

  “Um, why?” Can I sound any guiltier?

  “I’m going to the Algarve to interview Waldo, but I’ve wrangled it into a long weekend. With benefits. There’s a group of us going. Wondered if you were interested in an all-expenses-paid mini-break.”

  Wow. Any other time I’d be packing my bags already. It’s not the first time Margo’s done something like this, and when she talks about an all-expenses-paid trip, she’s not kidding. The BBC loves her, and it’s five-star all the way.

  “Bleeding Waldo,” Duke mutters, referring to the derogatory nickname of the minister who’s involved in the latest political scandal. “He needs a good kick up the arse, and I’ll give it to him.”

  “I’d love to,” I tell Margo. “But I can’t.”

  “Are you sure, sweetheart?” Dad frowns at me from across the kitchen. “You’ve worked so hard this summer. You should have a break before going back to university.”

  I was going to tell Dad about my weekend plans, but I didn’t intend doing it in front of an audience. Not that it’s a big secret, obviously. And Margo and Duke are practically family in any case. They’ve known Will forever.

  Brazen it out. “I am. Will and I are going to Wales for a couple of days. His friends own an adventure camp in Snowdonia.”

  “That’ll be nice,” Margo says.

  “Don’t break a leg rock climbing.” Duke grins at me, and I do a har-har face back at him.

  “The mountain air will do you good,” Dad says. “Clear out the cobwebs. You’ve been looking a bit peaky lately.”

  I don’t even know where to start with that comment. First, I’m definitely not peaky, and even if I was, since when does Dad notice stuff like that? I’m the one who tells him when he needs to take a breather from work.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Take some time out just for you.” Margo gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Give yourself a chance to think about things.”

  What things? She can’t possibly have guessed how churned up I am about Will. That would be too mortifying for words.

  Of course she hasn’t. Stop leaping to conclusions that have no basis in reality. I’m not churned up over him anymore. We’ve had the talk, and we’ve moved on.

  We didn’t really talk about it at all.

  Shut up.

  “Recharge your batteries.” Dad pats my shoulder and gives me the familiar sad smile that always hurts my heart. I know that when he looks at me, he’s reminded of Mum. No
t just because I have her eyes and bone structure—it’s because I’m following her career path. Because, if I don’t screw things up, I can make a difference.

  Like she did.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Margo says.

  I don’t even know what she’s talking about now. Not Will, that’s for sure. Which is a relief. The last thing I need is her asking me awkward questions in front of Dad.

  …

  Will

  Keep it platonic, and you won’t fuck this up.

  I park on the drive outside Mac’s house and exhale a long breath. The mocking chant’s been rattling around inside my head since the last time we saw each other on Tuesday night.

  The night I invited her to spend the weekend with me.

  Were you out of your fucking mind?

  It seemed like a good idea at the time. Still does, if I can remember one simple rule.

  She’s off-limits.

  I ring the doorbell, and she opens it straight away. She’s wearing faded jeans with a cropped T-shirt that shows off her midriff. And a navel piercing. She didn’t have that two years ago. My mouth dries and my heart slams against my ribs. Do. Not. Look.

  It takes all my self-control to keep my gaze on her face, when all I can see is that sexy gleam of gold glinting against her stomach. My gutter imagination goes into hyperdrive and graphic visions flood my mind. Of Mac on my bed, and me sliding down her gorgeous, toned body. Taking the jewelry between my teeth and gently tugging. Pressing my lips against her soft, warm skin as she sighs my name.

  Jesus. I break into a cold sweat as all my good intentions when it comes to her unravel. Concentrate.

  “Hey, Will. Looks like we’re in for a hot weekend.”

  What? Involuntarily, my gaze slides south before her words penetrate through the lust blinding my sense.

  She’s talking about the weather, dipstick.

  I need to get my shit together before she guesses I’m having serious problems with the whole platonic thing. Ironic, considering I’m the one who asked her to give us another chance to repair our friendship.

  This weekend is a great opportunity to show her how much I mean that.

  No more thinking about that night we shared. Or sneaking a peek at her irresistible piercing.

  And definitely no more goodnight kisses.

  It’s mid-afternoon by the time we arrive at Oakland Camp. Set in a valley, surrounded by woodland and with a nearby lake, it’s like entering another world. As I park in one of the reserved bays behind the reception lodge, Mac’s window is down, and she’s admiring the view.

  “This is amazing.” She turns back to me. “How long have your friends been here?”

  “Since leaving Uni. There’s still a lot to do.” Understatement of the year, but at least we’re moving forward.

  We get out of the car, and she stretches her arms above her head, which makes her T-shirt ride up ever farther. Without warning, memories flood my mind of how I once explored her gorgeous body with my hands, mouth, and tongue. Nothing bloody platonic about that.

  This weekend is gonna kill me. Which is a better option than for her to guess how much I still want her. I force my feet to move, and I open the door to the lodge. “After you.”

  She saunters in, and a hint of her scent lingers in the air. I briefly close my eyes, take a deep breath, and follow her. Adam’s working on the laptop at the desk and gives me a grin as we walk toward him.

  “Mac, this is Adam, one of the co-owners.”

  “The camp looks great,” she enthuses.

  “Yeah, we’re slowly getting there.” He gives me a look I can’t figure out. “Halfway through our five-year development plan.”

  “I’ll give Mac the grand tour later.”

  “Can’t wait.” She gives me a smile, and all my good intentions go up in flames. After five hours together, including a stopover for lunch, I need to get away from her before I do something we both regret.

  “Right. Let’s get you settled in.” Obviously, I need to show her the way to the accommodation before I bail. I glance at Adam, who’s not even trying to hide his smirk. Bastard. I told him Mac and I were just old friends when I phoned the other night. He better keep his mouth shut. “Where’re we staying?”

  “Pod Four’s the only one vacant.”

  What the hell? He knows we aren’t together. I made that clear on the phone. Christ, the last thing I want is Mac assuming I arranged this on purpose. Somehow, I keep my cool.

  “No problem.” I take the key he dangles from his finger, and we go back to the car for our bags.

  “I like the sound of being in a pod.” She tries to take her bag from me. “Will!”

  “Take mine.” There’s a bit of a trek to the accommodation, and my rucksack weighs half of what her bag does. I hand it to her, and she glares at it for a couple of seconds before giving a disgusted huff and taking it.

  “Just so you know,” she says, as we leave the car park and head toward a small copse of trees, “I’m humoring you here.”

  “I know.”

  We follow the dirt path through the trees and emerge beside the half-dozen purpose-built dormitories. The trees give an illusion of seclusion, although at the right angle you can see the accommodation from the side window of the lodge. Plus, the whole place has Grade A security installed.

  “The pods are farther on.” I nod in the direction of the lake which borders the edge of our campsite. “They were only installed this past spring. Mainly for couples who’d rather glamp than camp, although they cater for kids, as well.”

  “Huh.” She shields her eyes from the sun and gazes at the imposing mountains in the distance. “It’s a lot of infrastructure. I wonder if it’s profitable.”

  I hide a grim smile. That was always my parents’ concern when I used to talk about doing this after Uni. Although, as long as we don’t go under and are pulling ourselves out of the red, profitable and success are subjective. “It will be. This was never going to be a get rich quick scheme.”

  “You know a lot about it.” She bumps my arm, and I nearly drop her bloody bag. Was that an accidental bump? Didn’t seem like it.

  “Yeah. I’m great at constructing business plans.”

  The path slopes down into the valley, and after a few minutes, the pods come into view. Nestled among the trees and a stone’s throw from the lake, each one has a fair degree of privacy from its neighbors.

  “Number Four’s at the far end.” We walk along the stony edge of the lake, and she appears fascinated by the pods.

  “They’re so adorable. Like little hobbit homes.”

  “They’re a lot more basic inside,” I warn her as we reach the vacant one and I unlock the glass-paneled door. Despite my best intentions, my glance falls on the double sofa bed against the wood-paneled wall, and flash memories of tangled sheets and one forbidden night crash through me.

  Not going there.

  Shut the fuck up.

  Chapter Eight

  Mackenzie

  Will wasn’t joking when he said the accommodation was basic. There’re bunks on one side, and what I guess is a sofa bed on the other, and the walls curve up to the ceiling. Cozy for a couple, but I can’t imagine squeezing a whole family in here.

  And we’re sharing this tiny space for the whole weekend.

  My stomach churns, and I don’t know if it’s through nerves or excitement. No way did I think we were going to share our sleeping arrangements. Not that it changes anything. He’s not the kind of guy who’d try and make a girl feel awkward.

  Despite our Monday night kiss, he hasn’t touched me since, not even by accident. He’s obviously one hundred percent committed to keeping everything platonic between us.

  That’s good. After all, I’m committed, too. But it doesn’t stop the wistful regret squeezing my chest. Stop right there. I have to get over my infuriating obsession with him. It’s an effort, but I manage to sling him a careless grin. “I stand by my adorable hobbit home comment.”
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  He grunts, puts my bag on the sofa, and takes his from me. “I brought some provisions.”

  “Okay.” He dumps his bag on the tiny workbench next to the sink at the far end of the pod. A fun idea hits me from out of the blue. “Did you bring marshmallows? We can toast them on the fire pit tonight.” I’ve never done anything like that before, but how cool would it be to sit under the stars together, huddled next to our very own fire pit?

  “No, I didn’t.” He sounds as though I’m mocking him, and my grin slides off my face. “Just tea and coffee.” He pulls the boxes from his bag. “There’s a village not far from here. The pub does great food. Thought we could eat there, save having to cook.”

  “You can show me your mad skills when it comes to the kitchen. I’ll buy, you cook.” Could I sound any more desperate to spend time with him?

  He leans his back against the sink and gives me a slow, sexy, smile. A thousand butterflies collide low in my stomach, sending spirals of need between my thighs. I really need to work on not melting under the lethal heat of his gaze. “Hard-boiled eggs and cold beans?”

  I give a fake shudder in the hope it hides my stupid grin. “No way. You can barbecue something.” I’m guessing that’d be easier than using the tiny two-burner stove behind him.

  “Okay. Tomorrow night I’ll rock your world.”

  His comment hangs between us, like a molten promise sliding over my skin. The limited oxygen in the compact space heats up to combustible levels, and it’s getting harder to breathe without panting. He’s just flirting. He wasn’t being literal. Friends flirt all the time. But because we’re working on the whole platonic side of things, I squash my natural response to give him a teasing comeback.

  Then he blinks, as though he’s only just got the double entendre and can’t believe it slipped out.

  I keep a fixed smile on my face, as a hot wave of mortification sweeps through me. It’s only awkward inside my head. Stay cool, and with a bit of luck, he won’t guess where my mind descended. What a relief I didn’t say anything out loud. Although, since when has he ever not got the dirty double meaning of anything before it leaves his mouth?

  “Right.” He grabs his bag and squeezes by me, as though if we accidentally touch the whole place will go up in flames. “I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. I’ll come back in half an hour, give you a tour?”