Page 46 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
My brain scrambled for something to say. “Your mother has a nicer car than you.”
“I bought it for her,” he said. “She doesn’t get to drive it much anymore, though. Are you going to get in anytime today?”
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of anxiety. With a deep breath, I hauled my suitcase toward the boot of Maxwell’s car. He got out and opened it for me, which was unexpectedly considerate.
It was empty, aside from his tiny duffle bag—did he understand we were going for almost a whole week?—and a large metal case packed for us by Kit, which included a Glock and silver bullets, lethal against shifted wolves. Hopefully they’d stay in their case.
“I’ve never been to Scotland,” Maxwell said, helping me lift my very large case inside.
“Well, lucky you, then,” I muttered, then felt Freddy squirming in my pocket. I casually patted my coat, hoping Maxwell wouldn’t notice the movement.
“You’re wearing a winter coat in May?” Maxwell raised an eyebrow.
“Scotland’s colder than here,” I replied defensively. “I’m sensitive to temperature changes. Wolf thing.”
“Right. Another wolf thing.”
He was referring to our conversation where I’d explained that we’d have to drive all the way, rather than fly. I’d told him I didn’t know any wolves that could bear it. Weirdly, Maxwell hadn’t actually argued, apparently resigning himself to his fate of spending countless hours in the car with me. I’d expected at leastsomeresistance.
We both got in, and an awkward silence descended as Maxwell pulled away from the kerb. I fiddled with my seatbelt, wondering if I should put some music on or if that would irritate him. The quiet stretched between us, and I held my breath until my lungs felt too big for my chest.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t take it anymore, and opened my mouth to finally say “good morning,” even though we were a full minute into the journey—
“Look, about the… boyfriend thing the other day. Sorry if I didn’t react well.”
My head snapped towards him. Had I ever heard him say the word “sorry?”
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he continued, eyes fixed firmly on the road.
“Don’t worry. I know that you just hate me, rather than being a raging homophobe.”
Maxwell sighed, notably not refuting my claim. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m just… not the best at acting,” he admitted after a moment. “And it’s been a fair while since I’ve had a relationship. I’m worried I won’t be up to the challenge of convincing your family we’re…together.”
I snorted. “Don’t worry, Detective. I’ll take the lead.”
The look of absolute terror that flashed across Maxwell’s face was priceless. I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bursting out of me like a dam breaking.
“God, your face!” I wheezed, clutching at my stomach.
Maxwell’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “I’m serious, Rory. I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
My laughter died. “Trust me, it can’t get worse.” I stared out the window at the passing buildings. “Though, warning, my mother will hate you by default. When I came out to her, she pretended to accept it. All polite smiles and such. But she was low-key pissed that she wouldn’t get a bloodline heir from me.” I swallowed hard. “This was after Kit had already left, and we didn’t even speak his name anymore.”
Maxwell remained silent, but I could feel his rapt attention on me.
“She even suggested I could enter an arranged open marriage to provide children to the pack.” I shuddered at the memory. “So, anyway, she’s probably not going to react very well to the sight of me hanging off your arm.” I grinned at the thought. “I can’t wait.”
At least I’d be bringing someone like Maxwell home—hot as fuck, successful, intelligent. They’d see I didn’t need them, that I was wanted elsewhere. That someone amazing had chosen me.
Maxwell rubbed his left temple, wincing slightly.
Shit. I’d forgotten to guard my thoughts. I needed to be more careful. Compliments were the last thing I wanted him to hear.
Maxwell cleared his throat. “So, your mother is the alpha of that pack now? After your Dad died?”
“Yeah.” My fingers drummed against my thigh, a nervous rhythm that matched my quickening pulse.
He looked at me expectantly, that detective stare.
