Page 20
“Oh, Jenn, you dark horse!” DJ roared. That seemed to set all three of them off again.
Ruairidh emerged from the hold, the only one not laughing. In fact, he looked furious. Bloody hell. What was going on?
“Hi, Jenn. Could you come over here and have a look,” he said, voice clipped, motioning her toward the plane.
Dallas, DJ, and Enrique were now howling—even louder, somehow. One of them was going to have a heart attack at this rate.
Jenn peered into the hold.
Oh. My. God.
Total nightmare.
Evidently, one of the Moon & Mischief packages had burst in transit. Sex toys of every shape, colour, and size were strewn across the luggage hold like a hen party gone rogue. Lurid pink anal beads rolled near the back. Brightly coloured rampant rabbits, cock rings, and other stimulators lay at bizarre angles. And as if to make matters worse, Ruairidh was currently extracting an enormous sparkly purple dildo that had wedged itself into the wall.
It wasn’t just toys. Lacy suspenders, leather whips, silky bras, feathered handcuffs—it was like someone had shaken a dominatrix’s suitcase open and flung the contents across the hold. A few bits of underwear had even made it onto the ceiling. Jenn looked at Ruairidh, dumbfounded.
“We think a pram leg or luggage handle must’ve pierced the box. Bit bumpy over the Minch,” he said flatly. But his voice was a fraction lower than usual, and he didn’t quite meet her eye. As he lifted the box, more items spilled from the gaping side—kinky dice, hunky man playing cards, blindfolds. The box would’ve looked completely innocuous if it hadn’t exploded. Its sister box, after all, sat neatly to one side in its brown cardboard, marked with Jenn’s name and address.
“Look at Ruairidh rummaging for more toys!” Dallas howled beside her, his face practically purple.
“Do you want me to come in and help clear it up?” Jenn asked faintly.
“Umm, yeah, that would be good,” Ruairidh said. His gaze flicked over her outfit, quick and sharp, before he added, “Dallas, DJ—can one of you grab a spare box or bag from the airport, please?”
Ruairidh and Enrique helped her up into the hold.
“Hennifer, you should not feel embarrassed. It’s natural, you know,” Enrique said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Although… very funny. I’ve never seen such an abundance for one person.”
Ruairidh shot Enrique a look. He was scowling again. God, why did he have to look so delicious when he was angry?
“It’s not mine!” Jenn cried, cheeks flaming. “It’s for Abigail!”
“Well, the boxes do have your name on them,” Ruairidh said primly.
“Please, you have to believe me… God, this is horrendous… I am so embarrassed. I agreed to host a Moon & Mischief party for the girls—umm…”
“Ah, Moon & Mischief!” Enrique purred. “I have much to thank them for…”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Ruairidh interrupted curtly. But his voice had that low, steady note again—like he was keeping something in check. “But let’s get this cleared up. We’re on a schedule.”
“Hope we’re not interrupting anything naughty in there!” DJ called as he reappeared with some bags. “Ho! Judging by your face, Ruairidh, we’re definitely not. Come on, man—lighten up!”
“DJ, Enrique,” Dallas said, trying—and slightly failing—to get a handle on the situation, “maybe we crack on while these two finish up, eh?”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! And that’s not a lot!” DJ winked with a toothy grin and disappeared.
Ruairidh was currently peeling a pair of leopard-print suspenders from the ceiling, face tight with concentration. Jenn was trying not to imagine those sure hands unravelling her… For God’s sake, Jenn. Focus! She started shoving items into one of the bags, not even caring if things got damaged.
“I’d recommend washing everything thoroughly before you… erm… use any of it,” Ruairidh said. His tone was deadpan, but there was a flash of something heated in his eyes when she looked up.
“I’m not using them! They’re for—never mind. Yes. I’ll wash them.”
“I know it’s not all for you, by the way,” he added, a little awkward now. “Màiri mentioned something about a Moon & Mischief party.” He tried for a reassuring smile, but it landed closer to a grimace.
He was standing far too close as they bagged the… items… and his jaw was tight, expression giving nothing away. But there was something underneath the irritation. It made Jenn’s stomach flip in a way she did not have time for while stuffing leather whips into a bag.
“Thanks,” Jenn said. “And I’m really, really sorry about all of this.” Her hands flailed uselessly in the air, as if there was any gesture that could tidy this mess.
