Blindsided (Harris Brothers World, #2)

by Amy Daws

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?

“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.”

We both have sisters, and we were both raised by strong, fearsome mothers who didn’t let us treat women like they are disposable.

Selfishly, I enjoy having Freya all to myself, though. The woman makes me smile. Aye, sure we argue more often than not, but that’s because she doesn’t take any crap from me. She is so unapologetically herself that I always know right where I stand with her, and I like being around that kind of person.

“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.”

“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.”

Mac exits quickly, and I find myself gasping for air as everything he said sinks in. I then realise with great surprise that my best friend just took my breath away.

My mind is whirling as I lie on my bed thinking about how Freya is not a bad kisser. In fact, she’s quite good. Too good apparently because my hand is inside my shorts and I’m stroking myself while picturing my best mate’s lips wrapped around my cock instead of that idiot’s fucking shite cheese. Fuck me, what have I done?

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.

“We do this for one month.” I turn to look my friend in the eyes and show her that I’m not messing around about this. “A month?” she asks, her brows lifting in surprise. “Why a month?” Because if we go any longer, I’ll become addicted to the taste of you.

“You’re going to have to stop being mean to me, Freya, or I’m going to fall in love with you.”

How did I stay away from her this long? Fucking hell, I deserve a badge of honour because this woman is temptation personified.

I’ve always liked a woman who’s not rail thin. I’m a big bloke, and I want my hands full when I reach out to grab something that’s mine.

“I just think you’re extremely talented, and if making pet clothing makes you happy, then nothing should stop you from having the confidence to go out there and do it. Your unique brilliance deserves to be seen.”

Christ, I want her. I want her so bloody bad I can taste it. But for some strange reason, I need to feel some sort of security in what we are. I know we’re just friends, and I know the sex is temporary, but I want it to feel real while we’re together.

A pussy that is all mine. Never been touched by another. Fuck me, I’m a pig.

For the next forty-eight hours, I need to pretend I’m not a daft idiot who is doing exactly what I promised I wouldn’t do: falling in love with my best friend.

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.

I just knew when I saw her in my family tartan that I had to grab her. Hold her. Claim her as mine and show her physically just how touched I was. The kilts she offered to make were already incredible, but the fact that she made that dress to surprise me meant something to me. It meant that she’s more than just a friend. She’s…Freya.

That lying cunt of a voice wants to tell me that my ideas aren’t good enough and they won’t like them. But then I hear Mac’s voice say, ‘Your unique brilliance deserves to be seen.’ And Mac’s voice sounds a whole lot sexier than that lying cunt.

“He needs you, Freya,” Roan says in a rush. “You’re his voice of reason. His person. And he’s yours…Even though you’re both too stubborn to admit it.”

Grandad always told me it was better to get that salt out of your eyes than have it festering in your belly.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and wallowing over this move to Glasgow and make her see that you don’t just love her because you miss her. You love her because she’s your entire world, and you’re willing to do anything to be with her.”

“I’m sorry for how I told you I loved you at my parents’ house. You were right, I was a mess that day, but I’m not anymore. I’m seeing everything clearly now, Cookie. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you in that damn boutique when you spoiled Shameless for me. You blindsided me, Freya. You blindsided me with everything I never knew I wanted.”

“Freya Cook, it’s my turn to blindside you and ask…will you marry me?” God help him, his voice even cracks at the end as his eyes become red with unshed tears. “I know we never talked about this and you’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing with a ring in my pocket but, bloody hell, Freya, I’ve known you for well over a year, and all I want to do for the rest of my life is argue with you and make love to you and keep you as my best mate…and my wife. You’re it for me, Cookie. Partly because I don’t think anyone else could stand me but mostly because I don’t want to sit and watch telly on the sofa with anybody else. I want to be old, grey, fat, and happy with you. Will you be fat and happy with me?”

“I love you, my wee treasure. I love you more than I knew I was capable of loving someone. Nothing about you and me has been expected.”