Blindsided

by Amy Daws

  He points at me with a big, goofy smile. “Freya, if the bunk bed is rocking, don’t come knocking!”

  The guys hoot with laughter at Mac’s seriously disturbing joke, which I painfully smile through. “Duly noted.” I swing my fist in front of me like a pirate for reasons I’ll never truly understand.

  Mac shoots me a wink like he’s just working on a ruse and then adds, “We’re free until seven o’clock, and then we’ll be walking to the town centre for a dinner reservation I lined up. Let’s meet back down here in about three hours?”

  The couples all scamper off up the stairs to claim their rooms while I turn to take in the rest of the house. It’s completely divine in all its charming, old-fashioned, grandmother-styled glory. Floral wallpaper, frilly drapes. Marble fireplace. Original crown moulding. Doilies on every end table with tiny little porcelain knickknacks. Even the lace tablecloth in the formal dining area is so quaint, I fall in love with Mac’s grandmother without having ever met her.

  When I reach the back of the house, I gasp as I step into the conservatory sun lounge and take in the stunning water view.

  “That’s the Isle of Arran,” Mac’s voice states as he stands close enough to my back that I can feel the heat of him.

  “Quite a view,” I murmur, exhaling heavily as I take in the long, lush garden that breaks away into a sandy beach.

  “The mountains of Arran are off there in the distance.” Mac rests a hand on my hip as he points to the right. “We call them ‘the sleeping giant’ because it looks like a man laid down in the water from the coastline.”

  I squint at the sight. “I can see it.”

  Mac’s warmth breath blows into my hair as he huffs. “Aye, on a really clear day, you can see it even better and the sunsets are really something.”

  I turn to glance up at him. “It’s beautiful here.”

  He tips me a crooked smile. “Of course, I grew up inland with my folks in Dundonald. But I came out here to help out on the weekends whenever I could.” Suddenly, he reaches down and grabs my bag. “This way to your chambers, my lady.” He waggles his brows at me suggestively. “Allow me to show you to our kiddie room.”

  I follow him up the two levels to the loft area, where he has to duck to fit through the doorway. There’s a small loo attached and the single bunkbeds are perched on a rustic set that looks like it was made out of recycled barn wood.

  “I’ll take top,” Mac says with a wink as he drops my bag on the lower bed. “Most people would look at this room and think it’s the worst of the lot. But…”

  Mac walks over, grabs my hand, and leads me to the long, narrow window. He stands behind me and holds my waist as he positions me in front of the pane glass. “It has the best view of the house for some people.”

  I look around blankly for a moment before my jaw drops. “Whose horses are those?” I ask, pressing my hand to the glass and staring out at the big hulking animals grazing in a small paddock off in the distance.

  Mac’s body shakes with silent laughter. “The barn and the pasture belong to the property here, but my grandad rents it out to a local farmer with horses.”

  “Oh my God, can we go see them? Please?”

  “Aye, I’ve already called ahead. The owner is expecting us in thirty minutes.”

  I squeal with delight and turn to drag Mac’s face down to mine. The kiss is a reflex at this point. We’ve spent two weeks together, never going a day without touching.

  And regardless of my new, burning feelings, I don’t want what we have to end. “Let’s call this lesson ‘who can orgasm the fastest’,” I state excitedly as I begin to shed my clothes like they’re on fire.

  Mac laughs and breaks free from me long enough to shut the bedroom door. “Actually, let’s call it ‘who can be the quietest’. This house is old, and the walls are paper thin.”

  I bite my lip excitedly, and we set about completing our lesson. I call it a success when Mac only has to cover my mouth twice the entire time.

  Who knew that watching Freya pet horses would turn me on so fucking much? Fuck, at this point, I should know that watching Freya do pretty much anything is going to turn me on.

  She only looked slightly disappointed when she learned these were work horses and not meant for riding. When the farmer gave her a brush and asked her if she wanted to comb some of them out, I thought she was going to kiss the old coot.

  Luckily, she didn’t.

  I helped brush them some, but mostly, I just watched Freya positively light up as she put her hands on the beautiful animals. Kittens and horses make this woman bonkers. If Freya were my wife, I’d be a fool not to live on a farm and give her horses.

  Not that she’d be my wife someday, of course. She can hardly stand me long enough to shag me for a month, let alone live with me for a lifetime.

  Plus, something tells me that as much as Freya enjoys being with me, she doesn’t see me as the type of man she’d ever settle down with. And it was far too easy for her to agree to the end date of this arrangement. Freya Cook’s heart is firmly guarded indeed, just as mine is. I’m still focusing on my football career. And I refuse to let another woman mess with my game the way Cami did only a year ago.

  I must stick to the thirty day end date. I’ll head off to training camp, and that will be the end of that. A clean break.

  Freya and I head back to the house to get ready for dinner. I’m ready in ten minutes, so I head downstairs and leave her to do her makeup in peace. When I come striding into the small kitchen with its bright yellow walls and old wooden table, I smile when I see Roan sitting there, reading the paper like an old man.

  “Aye, making yourself at home, I see,” I say, patting his shoulder as I move by him to the cabinet where my grandad always stores the whisky.

  “Allie’s getting ready, and I can only watch her curl her hair so many times.”

  I laugh as I pull down the amber liquid and grab two tumblers to join him at the wee table. “Don’t tell me the honeymoon is already over.”

  I pour us both a finger and hand his over to him. He smells it and winces. “Ag, no. It’s not even started.” We clink our glasses and down our whiskies in one gulp.

  “What about you?” Roan asks as I pour us another. “Haven’t seen you at the house in a couple of weeks. Allie is asking all sorts of questions, and I’m curious myself because the last time you and I talked, you were only going to be gone for one night.”

  The corner of my mouth tilts upward. “Aye, well…things change, I suppose.”

  “I suppose,” Roan repeats. “And this is still just a casual thing? Like how you were with Cami?”

  “Different than Cami,” I state and sit back in my chair to sip the second whisky slower, savouring the smoky flavour before adding, “Freya and I have a clear, defined end date.”

  Roan chuckles and shakes his head. “And you think that little detail is going to save you?”

  I frown at him. “Aye, of course it will.”

  Roan purses his lips in judgment. “You say Freya can’t stand you, but you’ve been at her place for two weeks, and you haven’t burnt the place to the ground, and she hasn’t kicked you out. You don’t think she’s starting to wish you’d stay there forever?”

  I shake my head. “No. Not at all. Freya doesn’t look at me like that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” I say simply. “I was a means to an end for her, and now she’s using me to help build up her confidence. That’s all we’re doing here.”

  Roan frowns. “Who are you trying to convince here, Mac?”

  “You, because you’re the one with all the nosy questions,” I reply in agitation, gripping at my neck. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

  “I think you have feelings for her,” Roan states simply.

  I eye him harshly. “I am attracted to her.”

  “And you like her.”

  “Of course I like her. She’s my friend.”

  “You like her
more than Cami.”

  I jerk away. “I didn’t like Cami.”

  “Cami messed with your head more than you’d care to admit. She messed with your game, and that’s the one thing you want to protect at all costs. So the fact that you’re risking all of that again for Freya means you care about her, man, so just admit it.”

  “I care about her as a friend,” I growl back, gripping my tumbler in my hand a bit too hard.

  “Total bullshit, man,” Roan says, sitting back in his chair and downing his second whisky in one gulp. “I saw the way you watched her on the plane today. You were worried.”

  I scowl and shake my head. “I was worried because she seemed off. She’s fine now.”

  “You were worried because you care about her…as more than a friend. And you don’t want to lose her.”

  “I won’t lose her,” I snap angrily. “Freya and I are honest with each other. We know what we’re doing. We’ll finish our one month of whatever it is you call our situation and go right back to being Mac and Freya. Just like always.”

  And with that, I push up out of my seat and leave my friend in the kitchen to go for a walk and clear my damn head before dinner.

  Last night was a lovely evening. The girls all ended up sitting at one table and the guys were at another. I was grateful for the space because my heart needed time to calm down after the wonderful surprise Mac gave me with those horses. Just when I want to pull away from him, he somehow finds a way to reel me back in. He really is a sweet arsehole when he wants to be.

  And dinner was such a laugh, as all the ladies gave Allie marriage advice:

  Have sex at least three times a week because it keeps the poison out and helps the man’s disposition.

  Get drunk together at least once a week because that’s when the best deep conversations happen.

  Shower together at least once a week so you can see all body parts in full lighting and keep an eye on each other’s strange moles.

  Once you have kids, have a nanny on call so you can leave the house whenever you need to scream.

  Train your man into knowing that his lady is always right. Use sexual threats if necessary.

  Take the man’s last name because it makes their caveman heart thump with pride, and let’s face it, guys just need a win sometimes.

  Never stop giving blow jobs. Your husband looking at you like a hero afterwards is always fantastic.

  I have to admit, I could relate to several of those after only being with Mac for a couple of weeks, so I didn’t feel as out of touch as I thought I might.

  We called it an early night because apparently the Dundonald Highland Games start at dawn, so the men had a car set to pick them up early. The women were to come around noon when the real festivities began.

  When I nipped into the loo to change for bed last night, I came out to find that Mac had pulled both of our mattresses down onto the floor and was laid out waiting for me. Shirtless, tattooed, and so perfectly Mac.

  I’m going to miss this when it’s over, I thought to myself as we made love for the second time that day.

  No lesson. No talking. Just two people connecting in the dark with the faint sounds of the sea as our background music.

  I wake the next day to the sounds of the girls laughing downstairs. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s after ten, and Mac has left already so I tiptoe downstairs in my kitten sleeper to find the ladies all in the formal dining room with mimosas and pastries.

  “Morning,” I say, and all seven of the ladies turn their wide smiles to me. “I can’t believe how late I slept.”

  “Morning, Freya!” Allie says excitedly and then pats the open seat beside her. “Let me make you a mimosa.”

  She grabs the bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket and begins pouring me a flute, then takes the orange juice and adds just a splash on top. She hands the glass over to me with a smile.

  “Did you sleep well?” Sloan asks from across the table, eyeing me curiously.

  “Very,” I reply and lift the bubbles to my mouth. “What time did the guys get going?”

  “Six A.M.,” Poppy says with wide eyes. “Booker was obnoxious as he was stomping around and struggling to get his kilt on this morning.”

  “I didn’t even hear Mac leave,” I say with a shrug.

  “That’s because he was getting dressed in the hallway,” Indie says with a laugh. “I came out to go look for Camden’s mobile and got an eyeful of Mac’s bare arse as he pulled up his kilt right in the hallway. I think he was trying not to wake you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Shocking. I’m sure he’s not wearing boxers today either.”

  “I was dying laughing watching you and Mac the other day at Kindred Spirits,” Vi says, turning her blue eyes to me. “The way you two fight like an old married couple is the cutest thing I have ever seen.”

  “We’re more like mortal enemies,” I state with a huff.

  Vi shakes her head. “Whatever you are, I love it. When will you two crazy kids just admit you fancy each other?”

  The girls all turn expectant eyes to me, and I feel my cheeks begin to heat. “We don’t fancy each other,” I reply woodenly. “Men and women can be just friends, you know.”

  “Not men and women who look at each other the way you two do,” Belle says, flicking her dark glossy hair over her shoulder and pinning me with a look. “I remember looking at Tanner like that, and it was right before he proposed to me.”

  The ladies all squeal with excitement, and my lips purse defensively. “Well, you’re a great deal different than I am, I’m afraid.” I say with an awkward laugh.

  “What do you mean?” Belle asks, furrowing her brow.

  I exhale heavily. Belle may not be rail thin like the other ladies at this table, but she’s curvy like a Kardashian with dark hair and dark eyes. Basically every man’s pornographic fantasy. We are not cut from the same plus-sized cloth.

  The women are all looking at me with that same blank stare, and it’s aggravating. “Look, I don’t think it’s any secret that I look different than all of you ladies.”

  “We all look different,” Allie argues, with a challenging glint in her eyes.

  “There’s different,” I state with a laugh and then stare down at my champagne like somehow it can save me. “And then there’s me. Look, it’s not an insecurity thing. I’m just being pragmatic. I have traits that I love about myself. My love of cats and ponies makes me quirky, my ability to quilt and alter clothing is top-notch. I even have some design ideas that I’d love to talk to Sloan and Leslie about down the road. I think I’m quite funny when I want to be, and I know I’m a really good friend. But my appearance is one thing that I can’t change, and because of that, I’ll probably never get married or procreate, but I’m okay with all of that. Because I’m a realist, and there’s a big wide world out there that exists without true love.”

  I take a fortifying sip of my mimosa, drinking nearly half the contents in one big gulp.

  “You’re disillusioned is what you are,” Allie says with a bark of a laugh. “You are completely blind to your unique beauty, Freya. Seriously, don’t you see how you’re the type of person who belongs on the cover of magazines?”

  “No!” I reply with an awkward laugh. “I honestly don’t.”

  “Fuck magazines actually,” Allie replies quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that because the magazines are the ones making us feel like there’s only one way to be beautiful. You’re gorgeous, Freya, and your inner voice is an evil, lying cunt.”

  “What?” I reply with a laugh.

  Allie shrugs her shoulders. “It’s true. We all have that bitchy little voice that tells us lies about ourselves. Lies that we think are true. Like for me…I don’t feel like I deserve Roan because of how much I hurt him last year with that stupid video I made. We’re getting married in a week, and he still has to remind me that I’m forgiven.”

  “Allie, that’s awful.” I reach over to grab her hand. “Roan loves you so much. One
mistake doesn’t change how deserving of him you are.”

  “But it’s the story she tells herself because of self-preservation,” Sloan adds with a wobble to her voice. “She says it to herself because if the worst-case scenario comes to fruition, she thinks it won’t break her then. But I can tell you from experience, you’ll break regardless.”

  Everyone’s focus turns to Sloan as she continues, “My daughter had cancer, and even though she’s been in remission for years now and has a clean bill of health, I still hold my breath every time she complains of pain.”

  “Oh, Sloan.” I inhale deeply at her very vulnerable words, which bring me right back to the year I lived with her and Sophia.

  “But your inner voice is a lying cunt!” Allie adds again and pounds her fist on the table.

  Sloan smiles at Allie’s insistence and nods her agreement.

  Leslie stands up, and says, “My father was an abusive asshole to my mom, and anytime Theo gets remotely angry, I tell myself that he could be just like him, when I know in my heart that will never happen.”

  “Lying cunt!” Allie says again, and this time, Sloan joins in.

  Poppy then adds, “Twins are really fucking hard, and I think I might be a horrible mum.”

  “Lying cunt!” Allie, Sloan, and Leslie bellow.

  “I hate my hips,” Belle says, propping her elbows on the table. “And they only got bigger after I had Baby Joey. I think my body is revolting.”

  “Lying cunt!” Allie, Sloan, Leslie, and Poppy chant.

  Indie chirps in next. “My pregnancy with Bex gave me angry red stretch marks that make me never want to take my shirt off in front of Camden ever again. He tells me my marks gave him the best gift of all, and he loves them, but I can’t help but feel self-conscious all the time.”

  “Lying cunt!”

  Everyone turns their focus to Vi, who’s the only one who hasn’t said anything through all of this. She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes as she stares back at all of us. Her voice wobbles when she says, “I’m terrified that I’m not enough to keep Hayden happy and that no matter how hard I try, he could attempt suicide again.”