Full Mountie

by Ainsley Booth

  It’s just a passing thought, but his reaction surprises me. He just grunts and heads off to the locker room.

  I know we’re still in the early days of our relationship, but at some point… Looking back up at the stands, my chest gets tight. Ellie and Violet are wearing dorky beaver hats, an unofficial uniform of their cheering squad. Beth would look adorable in a matching toque.

  I give my head a small shake, then follow Lachlan off the ice.

  After the game, most of the team meets up at a nearby pub.

  Lachlan claps Max on the shoulder as we walk in. “I figured you’d have gone straight home.”

  “Not tonight. Violet told me she’ll be going to sleep early anyway, so I may as well enjoy an evening at the pub while I still can, because once baby Donovan shows up, it’ll be all hands on deck. So, Gavin and Ellie dropped her off home and here I am.”

  His face lights up when he mentions the baby. Impending parenthood looks good on him.

  We sprawl out around two tables pushed together and order a disgusting amount of food. Nachos, poutine, wings. The conversation is light and easy. Sports and weather, home renovation and travel. For a group of pretty diverse income levels—Max and Tate at one extreme, and the public servants at the other—they’ve got a lot in common.

  And then there’s the one thing they all share, but don’t talk about in a pub. So really, this is just like any kink munch I’ve attended in the past.

  By the time my belly is full of poutine, I feel like I’m fitting right in.

  While we’re waiting at the bar for another round of drinks, Corinne walks up to Lachlan. “Pool table’s free. How about a rematch?”

  Lachlan smiles. “Sure, I’ll be right there.”

  “Rematch?” I ask after she heads to the back corner.

  “Yeah. She challenges me to one every time we’re somewhere with a table. She’s convinced one day she’ll beat me.”

  Once we have our drinks, we join her. I sit on a tall stool against the wall that gives me a good vantage point of both Lachlan in action, and the balls on the table.

  Ha. Balls.

  I blame that dirty thought for the inappropriate chain reaction that follows as I watch Lachlan bend over the pool table to take his next shot—one leg on the ground, the other along the edge. The view is mouthwatering. He banks the shot, and the cue ball ends up kissing the fourteen between the cushion and the ten ball. While Corrine walks around the table, figuring out her shot, Lachlan settles against the wall a few feet from me.

  I want him to lean against me while he waits for his next turn. I want to kiss him and tell him what a great shot he made.

  And if he were any other man—or woman—I was dating, I wouldn’t hesitate to do exactly that.

  But our relationship isn’t public yet.

  And on top of that, tonight his whole demeanour screams don’t touch.

  He’s going out of his way to avoid being physically close to me.

  And as the night goes on, that begins to really irk me.

  “It’s about time you got your long-lost bestie on the ice, Ross,” Corinne says after she misses sinking the three ball in the corner pocket.

  Lachlan just shrugs and lines up his next shot.

  I know that’s all he can really do, but there’s a part of me that’s thinking what the fuck?

  Is this what every hockey night is going to be like? We’re best buds from way back?

  All that talk about wanting to be with me, dragging me back in…Does he only mean within the four walls of his house?

  I jam those thoughts down, take a long swig of my beer, and survey the room.

  Tate is busy chatting up a couple of hot women at the bar.

  Lachlan wins a few minutes later, but only because he was the first to sink the eight ball. He plays Max next and gets his ass handed to him in short order.

  “Hey Donovan, if you ever get tired or doctoring, you could always hustle pool.”

  Max chuckles. “I’m sure Violet would one hundred percent support that as a career change.”

  “It never hurts to have a back-up plan.”

  Lachlan’s words prick at me, even though I know he’s only joking around with Max. Even out of context, I don’t like that he hedges his bets. I don’t want to be a secret, and I don’t want to think about my boyfriend having back-up plans.

  I stand up and drain my beer. “Are you just about ready to go?” I ask him.

  He gives me a curious look, then shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

  He finishes his drink, we settle our tabs, and we say our goodbyes.

  Once we’re in his car, he turns towards me. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not.” I take a deep breath and let it all out, because fuck it. “What happened to wanting a relationship that involves me? Tonight, you seemed to go out of your way to make sure I'm known as your best friend.”

  “But you are my best friend.”

  I’m a hell of a lot more than that. “I fuck you, Lachlan. Don't distract from that point. I’m not comfortable with being gentleman friends for life.”

  He nods, his face pulling tight. “I hear that. I just think…they don't need to know the details of our relationship.”

  No, not right now.

  “I thought we were on the same page about that. Beth has been really clear about not wanting anyone to find out.”

  I don’t bother to point out to him that the last time she said anything like that was back in May. A lot has changed since then, and I’m not sure Lachlan’s noticed.

  51

  Beth

  I end up staying at Lachlan’s every night for nearly two weeks. By the middle of July, I’ve taken over a third of his closet with work clothes, and I find myself standing in the middle of his bedroom with a laundry basket of yoga pants and t-shirts, wondering if I’m accidentally moving in, one piece of clothing at a time.

  I probably shouldn’t do that.

  Hugh stays here, too, but his clothes live at his apartment. He brings an overnight bag in from his car every night, and departs with it in the morning.

  “Huh,” I say to myself as I dump the laundry basket on the bed. “That’s interesting.”

  So is talking out loud when nobody else is home. Interesting, crazy…

  I fold my clothes neatly.

  Then I look at the dresser.

  No.

  I dig my bag out from under the bed, where we kicked it a few days ago after I unloaded yet another pile of clothes for my extended love nest stay.

  I put all my clean laundry in it.

  I don’t touch the stuff in the closet, because it’s already neatly hung up.

  Then I resolve to sleep at my own place tonight. Lachlan has a night shift, the first of four in a row.

  Hugh is working days.

  If he wants, he can stay at my place, too.

  He can bring his duffle bag with him, and take it in the morning, and in between he can give me lessons in appropriate boundaries.

  I end up staying at my apartment all week, and by the time Friday rolls around, I miss Lachlan’s place.

  I miss his king-sized bed and being sandwiched between two big, warm bodies.

  I still love my neighbourhood, though, so on my last morning there for the next little while, I decide to walk to work. I leave extra early so I can loop around to my favourite bagel place, and take my time strolling toward the Hill. And I’m glad I do, because on the way I pass a For Sale sign on a house that’s way beyond my budget.

  But I just happen to know someone who’s in the market.

  Jack Benton, who came to Ottawa and had a secretive meeting with the prime minister—way more off the record than I was expecting. But then the news broke that he’s selling the Lumberjacks, and the pieces started to fall into place.

  He’s moving to Ottawa to join the government, and he’s going to need a place to live.

  I take a picture of the stunning modern house, all glass and wood and dark grey panels, and fire
off an email from my phone. This place has billionaire-who-wants-to-be-close-to-everything written all over it.

  From: Beth Evans

  To: Jack Benton

  Subject: A house I would definitely look at if I were you

  * * *

  This is the nicest house I’ve seen for sale in The Glebe, fyi. Unless you want an estate outside the city? And feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but I like real estate. I helped Max Donovan find a house when he moved here.

  When I get to work, Lachlan is sitting at my desk.

  “What are you still doing here?” I ask with a happy smile, setting my coffee in its spot before I hang up my purse on its hook.

  “Thought I’d say good morning before I head home to sleep.”

  I wink at him. “Good morning.”

  “Ships passing in the night…” he trails off as my phone rings, and we switch spots.

  It’s an unknown number, so I answer it with the formal Office of the Prime Minister of Canada spiel.

  “That’s quite a mouthful,” a warm, rich voice says in my ear. “Jack Benton. Is this Beth?”

  “It is. Hey Jack,” I say as I hold up my finger for Lachlan to wait. He glowers at me, and I mouth, I love you before continuing. “Did you get my email? I just happened to see the For Sale sign go up on my walk to work this morning, and I thought of you.”

  In my ear, Jack laughs. “You walk to work?”

  “Of course, it’s great exercise. We can walk together, if you’d like.” I’m teasing, and mostly for Lachlan’s benefit. He looks like steam is going to shoot out of his ears any second.

  On the phone, Jack makes a noncommittal noise. “I think your Mountie might object.”

  “Quite possibly.” I press my lips together to keep from smiling.

  Lachlan’s not going to like that Jack’s figured it out. I do, though.

  “Would it be presumptuous to ask you to go and do a walk through of the house with a real estate agent? I can’t get back to Ottawa for a few weeks. But if you like it…”

  “You would buy a house sight unseen?”

  “You’d see it for me. And if it doesn’t suit my purposes, then it’s an investment property.”

  If Sasha Brewster’s shopping habits ever shocked me in the past, this has just blown that out of the water. “Uh…sure? Yes, I could do that for you.”

  “Great. I’ll set something up and have the agent contact you directly.”

  He hangs up without another word, and I set the phone back in the cradle.

  Lachlan crosses his arms and frowns again. “Date with Jack?”

  I don’t like how he says that. And I don’t like that he’s said it here. I give him a warning look which he totally ignores, so I get up and gesture for him to follow me into the copier room.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper when we’re around the corner.

  “What was that little smile about?”

  Damn it, he didn’t miss that. “Well…” Shit. No secrets, and we agreed to talk about things. “Jack guessed that I’m yours. When I said we could walk to work together—which was a joke, by the way—he said my Mountie might object.”

  “I do,” he growls. “But what the fuck is he doing asking about your personal life?”

  “It just happened in the course of the conversation. Is it a big deal if he knows we’re together?”

  Lachlan shakes his head in disbelief. “He doesn’t know about Hugh.”

  Oh. Shit. But… “I get that you’re wanting to be protective of Hugh—I do, too—but deniability only goes so far.”

  “Deniability? You didn’t even try. You were too busy flirting with Jack Benton to think about the impact of this.”

  Oh, he didn’t just say that. Fuming, I twist away from him.

  He catches my arm and spins me around, pressing me against the wall. “That was a jerky thing to say,” he says quietly, then takes a deep breath. “I just…”

  I nod. Yeah. “Lots of minefields to navigate in a secret relationship.”

  He touches my cheek, a light brush of his fingertips that still lights me up inside. His gaze drops to my mouth.

  “Not here,” I whisper.

  “I know,” he says, leaning in. He hovers there, not quite kissing me, for agonizing seconds before stepping back.

  From around the corner—dangerously close—Gavin calls out my name. “Beth?”

  We leap apart and I stride back in the direction of my desk, bumping right into the PM as he rounds the corner.

  He looks at me with a frown, then slides his gaze past me and his frown deepens. “Lachlan?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought you left a while ago.”

  I clear my throat. “We were just discussing Violet’s baby shower. Lachlan was under the mistaken impression he wasn’t coming, but of course he is.”

  Gavin nods slowly. “Okay. Maybe not the most pressing conversation?”

  “Right. I should get back to work.”

  I slide past my boss. From behind me, I hear him awkwardly tell Lachlan that of course he should come to the shower.

  And now I’ve made another complication.

  Fantastic.

  I’m still wound up about this by the time lunch comes around, so I use the excuse that Gavin didn’t bring anything either to run out to a sandwich shop. I need fresh air.

  I need perspective.

  I get a sandwich, but no perspective.

  I feel all tight and confused inside, and I think I’ve got that mostly locked down until Hugh shows up at my desk at three and finds me furiously blinking back hot, stupid tears.

  I will not cry, I will not cry… But then I take one look at his worried face and know that’s a losing battle.

  I jump up and head to the copier room again, this time with a fistful of work because I need an excuse to be hiding back there lest I’m caught again.

  Hugh is hot on my heels.

  “You don’t need to follow me,” I mutter. “I’m fine.”

  “You just burst into tears at your desk.”

  “Burst is an overstatement. I got momentarily overwhelmed. I’m fine now, and I have work to do.”

  “That can wait a minute.” His hand comes down on top of the photocopier lid. “Look at me. What’s going on?”

  “Lachlan and I had a weird fight this morning.” I sniffle and Hugh grabs a box of tissues off the supply shelf. He rips it open and hands me one. “Thanks.”

  “What was the fight about?”

  “Jack Benton guessed that we’re together.”

  “The three of us?”

  “No. Just Lachlan and me. I mean, he…” I huff out a breath. “He called Lachlan ‘my Mountie’. And I didn’t deny it. Lachlan was furious.”

  “Aw, beautiful.” Hugh pulls me into his chest. “He is your Mountie. I get it. I wouldn’t want to deny that, either.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, weeping into his chest. “I don’t know what language to use here.”

  “I know. It’s a steep learning curve, this poly thing. We’ll figure it out.”

  He cups my cheek and leans in, brushing my mouth with his.

  And because I have the worst luck in the world today, that’s when the door opens.

  We freeze.

  Someone clears their throat, and I just want to die. I can’t even hide behind Hugh because we’re standing sideways to the door. Whoever is right there just got an eyeful of an undeniable embrace.

  “I was wondering if you had the Stats Can report,” Gavin says dryly.

  This is isn’t happening.

  “It’s copying.” I spin around, not making eye contact with the PM. “Or it will be when I hit this button.” I slam my hand down on the copier display and with an ugly whine, it comes to life.

  Ch-chunk. Whirrr. Whoosh. Slide.

  The noises of a photocopier make the most surreal soundtrack to one’s personal life being painfully revealed to one’s boss.

  Gavin’s not going away,
either. “Beth, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  I close my eyes. This isn’t happening. “No.”

  It comes out in a harsh snap. Oops. When I open my eyes again, Gavin’s giving me an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

  And I’ve officially had it with men. “No. You can’t speak to me.” I gesture away from the copier room. I’m not sure if I’m pointing to his office or not, but the shoo-ing is clear. “Unless you want to fire me for kissing my boyfriend, this is none of your business. With all due respect.”

  He swings his head to Hugh, who’s had the very good sense to stay quiet. Then Gavin looks back at me. “Uh…”

  On second thought, maybe we should do this in his office. Or not at all.

  Yes, not at all would be my first choice.

  “Your boyfriend?” The door closes, but Gavin’s still on the wrong side of it. This side. And the photocopier room is not big enough for the three of us. He gives Hugh a pointed look. “May I?”

  Hugh, bless his heart, doesn’t move. “May you what? Sir?”

  Gavin shakes his head. “I don’t even know. Have a moment alone with my assistant, maybe?”

  Would this be less awkward if Hugh gave us some space? Yes, I think so. I nod at him and he ducks outside.

  Gavin scrubs his hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but…what about Lachlan?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m getting that.”

  “Today has been a weird confluence of events that dragged some personal stuff into work, but I swear we haven’t done anything here, ever, and—”

  “Ever? How long have you…” He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Are you okay?”

  I nod. “I’m fine.”

  “You know we love you.”

  “Yeah.” I give him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  “And…you know I understand a thing or two about love trumping propriety. Right?”

  Another nod. “Uh huh.”

  “All right. We can stop talking about this now.” He stops and looks at the door, where Hugh is, I’m sure, standing very stiffly on the other side. “Is Hugh coming to the baby shower, too?”