Chapter five
LUCAS
Iopened the back door of Kit’s cottage and was hit by a glorious aroma. I didn’t know exactly what he’d been cooking, but I would bet anything it involved a healthy amount of cheese.
My mouth watered as I unlaced my boots at the door.
I’d left the bulk of the mud and other substances I’d tramped through today on the road down to the village, thumping my feet into the hard tarmac to loosen as much of the brown chunks as I could, but I wasn’t about to walk any left over into Kit’s home.
My mission this evening was to do a good impression of a normal human being.
That started with respecting his property.
I stripped off my coat, the waterproof a necessity since apparently the weather in Scotland could change from chill sunshine to chill rain in seconds. I hadn’t witnessed such a switch today, but was willing to learn from the mistakes of others.
I checked my backpack wasn’t coated in anything more offensive than fur before climbing the stairs to Kit’s living room. The delicious smell of cheesy goodness intensified with each step. I had to swallow to prevent saliva escaping my mouth as I reached the top.
The living room had been transformed. Last night, Kit snapped on the overhead lights during his hurried tour and this morning I’d made my pathetic sandwich and embarrassed myself by the light of the rising sun.
Now, warm lamps illuminated the long room.
A couple of candles flickered on a coffee table beside where Kit sat on a sofa, their scent no match for the huge batch of macaroni cheese steaming on the kitchen counter.
Kit was tucked into one side of the sofa, his long legs hidden under a thick checked blanket.
An empty bowl sat beside the candles on the coffee table, welcome evidence that he hadn’t waited for my arrival to eat.
If he did that every day, he’d lose what little fat softened his slim frame.
A vet’s hours were not to be depended on for regular meal times.
He was wearing the same purple jumper and scarf from this morning. A fabric covered board rested on his knees, a half-assembled puzzle brightening the flat surface.
I’d never done a puzzle before. Or, had never completed one.
With a best friend boasting the attention span of a gnat or the hyperfocus of a brain surgeon, we’d started a handful together, only for me to arrive at Aster’s house the next day to find he’d completed it alone or had repurposed the pieces for a craft that never turned out how the online tutorial swore it would.
I wouldn’t be able to tell without getting closer, but there might have been a cat curled around where Kit’s feet would be under the blanket. From the top of the stairs, it looked like a black and white ball of fluff.
It must be new. Aster hadn’t mentioned a cat in his stories about his stay at Kit’s cottage during his and Callum’s falling out.
It only occurred to me that I’d been standing at the top of the stairs for far too long when Kit looked up and smiled. Not a perfect start to my mission.
‘You look beautifully cosy,’ I said.
Kit’s mouth dropped open in horror. Stinging blush rose to my cheeks. Telling him he looked cosy wasn’t as weird as saying he was lovely or beelining to him as my best guess at the hottest guy, but we were both in total agreement that the third word I’d added in there wasn’t normal.
‘I’m sorry.’ I hoped the lighting was low enough that Kit wouldn’t be able to tell that ninety percent of the blood in my body had relocated to my face. ‘It’s just that you look so comfortable, like the living embodiment of a warm hug.’
Buggering fuck. My tongue had chosen the worst possible moment to trot out something vaguely poetic. I couldn’t claim my brain was involved at all. Inside my skull, there was only shouting about how I needed to leave the room as quickly as possible to prevent further damage.
At least my arms and legs were controlled by my brain, even if my mouth was running riot. I rushed over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the serving spoon sticking out of the dish of macaroni cheese.
‘I’m going to eat in my room,’ I said, almost collapsing with thankfulness that no more nonsense escaped my lips.
‘You don’t have to.’
I spooned cheesy pasta into a bowl and hiked my backpack more securely onto my shoulder. ‘I have work to do. Don’t want to disturb you.’
I didn’t look at Kit as I hurried to the staircase to our bedrooms. He didn’t jump up or say anything to stop me. Kit seemed like a nice guy, but there was only so much weirdness anyone could cope with before they started wishing me away.
I lucked out when Aster stole half my cookie in primary school and decided we were besties. Without him around, I wouldn’t have managed any kind of social life. Apparently, I was either a competent vet or a hopeless loser. No in between.
My bedroom door safely shut, I sunk to the floor with my back braced against the firm wood. At least Oscar let me use his bathroom to wash my hands and arms before I left the farm. I wouldn’t have to venture out again to clean up before I ate.
‘Oh, fuck.’
I’d forgotten cutlery. The memory of my elbow disappearing into a cow’s arse was too recent to consider shovelling pasta into my mouth with my fingers.
But there was no way I could go back downstairs.
Blinking against the hot ache behind my eyelids, I carefully tipped the bowl towards my face and bit down on the topmost curls of macaroni. I shouldn’t be sad about messing things up with Kit. There had only ever been the potential to make a friend. I hadn’t lost anything.
I’d sneak to the bathroom after Kit went to bed, and I’d make sure I was up and out before he got up tomorrow morning.
Hopefully, with enough time and space, he wouldn’t decide he’d made a monumental mistake in letting me stay here.
Maybe, if enough days passed, I’d stop making stupid proclamations each time I saw him. We could become friendly acquaintances.
Life would go on as it had before. I’d kick arse at work and make peace with having one friend. I’d gotten through three months of Aster being hundreds of miles away so I could adjust to a friendship conducted across an island and up some mountains.
If I was lucky, I wouldn’t speak to anyone in a friendly capacity without my best friend present ever again. I clearly couldn’t be trusted to hold a conversation on my own.