Blindsided (Harris Brothers World, #2)

by Amy Daws

Mac’s lips twitch with barely concealed amusement that makes me want to thump him. He always looks like he’s laughing about something. It’s maddening, really. I mean, what kind of human is constantly happy? It’s just not right.

Mac glares at me while maintaining his smile. “Just last week, you had an entire conversation with your salad about how if you could take a pill that made the lettuce taste like crisps, the two of you could actually be mates.” “That was a conversation between me and the romaine,” I quip, hating the way he mimicked my Cornish accent. No matter how hard I try to ditch it, that West Country twang slips out. “And you shouldn’t have been earwigging.” “You invited me over for dinner!”

As a seamstress, I’m used to being invisible to ninety-nine percent of our clients, but I wasn’t to darling Mac here. We argued over our favourite Netflix programs and became fast friends. Then I introduced him to Heartland, and he latched onto me like a stray puppy that found its new home. Thank goodness this puppy is potty-trained. That’s a Scot for you. They’re overbearing, loud-mouthed, no boundary-having, spirited animals who are sweet, cosy cuddlers one minute and beating the fuck out of someone who looks at them sideways the next. Or perhaps that’s just Mac?

“Well, apparently you are young and cool because you’re over there telling me I don’t know what Netflix and chill means. So, why don’t you tell me, Mr Cool?” I grab yet another sweet. I’m pouting, but bleddy hell, his comment about my age has put me in a mood. “What does chill mean?” I turn just in time to see Mac’s brows lift as he replies, “It means shagging.” I nearly choke on the food in my mouth. “What do you mean?” I sputter and clear the congealed sugar out of my esophagus. “Netflix and chill means Netflix and sex,” Mac explains. “We don’t do The Sex!”

“You don’t need to change, Cook,” Mac states seriously, drawing my gaze to his green eyes that are soft around the edges in a way that makes my tummy do the flippys again. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and crushes me to his chest. “You’re bonnie, and you’re my best mate. You should never feel the need to hide.” The wind beneath my sails has ceased, and my huffy, defensive attitude from moments ago has been completely washed away by this sweet ginger giant standing in my kitchen. I set my mug on the counter and pull out of his embrace to gaze up at him curiously. “Did you say ‘best mate’?” He shrugs. “Aye, you have been nearly since the second we met, which is why I want my teammates to know you. You’re my wee treasure, and I’m right proud of you.”

“You are a proper pain in my arse, Mac. Do you know that?” He beams happily. “It’s a good thing you have a great arse then.”

“Your size and your shape are bonnie, and you don’t need to trip over your words in front of a guy you fancy because you should never doubt how beautiful you are.” He swallows a seemingly uncomfortable lump in his throat, and adds, “But even if I can’t cure you of this warped view you have about your body, you need to remember you’re funny, and smart, and talented, with loads of other qualities that make the fact that you’re drop-dead gorgeous a really nice perk. Any man would be lucky to talk to you.”

I inhale sharply at the wicked promise in his velvety eyes and feel myself reach out and grab my water bottle from him. Our fingers brush, and it feels like our touch is electrified. When did Mac and I start having sexual tension? Has it always been there, and I’ve just ignored it? It makes no bleddy sense. He’s him, and I’m…me.

“You’re going to have to stop being mean to me, Freya, or I’m going to fall in love with you.” Freya’s anger disappears. “What?” I shoot her a wink. “I get a stiffy for the mean ones.”