Chapter 3 #2
Lily’s bed has been reassembled in her new room—took me the better part of an hour to remember which bit went where—and she’s up there now, arranging her cuddly toys in order of importance.
My room, meanwhile, boasts nothing but boxes and an air mattress in the corner.
Not exactly a glamorous fresh start, but it’ll do for a few nights until my proper bed arrives.
“Mummy!” Lily calls down. “Mr Flops wants to know when we’re having dinner.”
“Tell Mr Flops we had fish and chips earlier, remember? That was dinner.”
“But that was ages ago!”
I glance at my phone. We ate less than an hour ago. “You can have some milk and a snack before bed if you’re still hungry.”
“Okay!”
I open the front door and look up at the light fixture, the one Mum and I stopped Da from meddling with earlier. When Lily and I nipped out for our fish supper, I grabbed a new bulb. Might as well pop it in and see if that fixes the problem. It’d be nice to tick one more thing off the to-do list.
I grab a folding chair—the only seat we have until the furniture arrives tomorrow—and position it beneath the light. Then, screwdriver in hand, I climb up. The fixture is just a bit too high. Even standing on the chair, I still have to stretch.
The cover is held on by two small screws. Balancing on tiptoes, my calves trembling, I try to work the first screw loose. “Come on, you wee—”
The chair wobbles, just a bit, but enough. My balance goes. I flail, arms windmilling wildly, the screwdriver slipping from my hand and clattering somewhere behind me. My stomach drops, the world tilts, and then I’m falling backwards, a gasp tearing out of me—
But I don’t hit the ground. Strong arms catch me, and suddenly I’m cradled against a warm, solid chest. My breath catches as my eyes lock with a pair of golden-brown ones.
Oh no. No, no, no. I recognise those eyes. Because they’ve already looked down at me once today.
Of all the people in this town, why did I have to be caught by the man whose lap I fell into this morning? The man I mentally filed under avoid at all costs.
And now he’s got me scooped up princess-style. Of course. Humiliation bingo: full house.
Heat, masculine scent, the press of muscle . . .
I catch myself. “Put me down!” I snap, cheeks burning with a mix of indignation and pure mortification.
He sets me on my feet gently, his hands lingering at my waist for just a second as if to make sure I’m steady. “You all right?”
“Fine.” I step back, putting space between us, and smooth down my top. “I had it under control.”
His lips twitch. “Aye, looked like it.”
“I don’t need—” I stop. Force myself to take a breath. He did just save me from a nasty fall. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He extends a hand. “I’m Struan, by the way. Your next-door neighbour.” He nods to number fourteen. “Your joiner too. For the salon renovation?”
You have got to be kidding me.
This man? This man with the stupid tawny curls that look like they tousle themselves, and cheekbones you could slice cheese with? This man who screams trouble with a capital T?
He’s Malcolm’s son? My new neighbour and joiner? Clearly, the universe is having a laugh at my expense.
I stare at his outstretched hand for a beat too long before reluctantly taking it. His grip is warm and firm, calluses rough against my palm. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but a bloody zing shoots up my arm.
I pull my hand back quickly. Swallow. “Ainsley.”
“And this,” Struan says, gesturing to the curly-haired girl who’s appeared behind him, “is my daughter, Isla. We didn’t get a proper chance to introduce ourselves earlier. You left rather quickly.”
I don’t take the bait. Instead, I force a smile I don’t quite feel and keep my eyes firmly on Isla, not her father. “Hello, Isla.”
Summoned by our voices, Lily comes pattering down the stairs. “Oh!” She points at the girl. “I know you! You were at soft play earlier. I’m Lily. What’s your name?”
Isla glances at her father, then smiles. “I’m Isla.”
“That’s a pretty name,” I say, keeping my tone polite. “What year are you in at school, Isla?”
“Primary three.”
“At Ardmara Primary? Lily here has just started at the nursery.”
“No, I go to school in Bannock. That’s where my mum lives.”
Ah. So he’s divorced, or separated. Not that it matters. Not that I care about his relationship status in the slightest.
“Do you want to see my room?” Lily asks Isla, bouncing on her toes. “It’s got a view of the sea and everything!”
Isla looks at Struan again, who shrugs. “If Ainsley doesn’t mind?”
“Of course not,” I say lightly, even though I badly need a moment to get my breathing under control.
The girls disappear upstairs, Lily chattering away as they go, not shy of the older girl in the slightest. Which leaves me alone with Struan.
He glances up at the light fixture. “Want me to sort that for you?”
“I can manage,” I insist.
But he’s already grabbed the screwdriver from where it fell and is reaching up, not even needing the chair.
He pops off the light cover with ease, the movement casual, effortless.
His shirt rides up as he stretches, revealing a strip of lean, toned stomach and that stupid V at his hips—the one no man has any business flaunting.
And then there’s the thin trail of golden hair leading down from his navel.
My eyes follow it before I can stop myself.
I jerk my gaze away, heat prickling my neck.
Nope, Ainsley. Absolutely not.
He removes the current bulb then holds out a hand to me. “The replacement?”
I pass him the bulb I picked up earlier and he holds it up, comparing it to the original. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I think I see a problem here. The connections are different. The original is a bayonet bulb, but this new one is a screw cap. That’s not going to work.”
“Right,” I say, embarrassed and a little annoyed. I grabbed the same kind I used to get for my old place. Figured it’d be the same here. “Easy mistake.”
“No worries. Think I’ve got one next door. Give me a sec.”
Before I can tell him not to bother, he’s heading for his house. I stand there on my doorstep like an eejit, arms crossed, listening to Lily and Isla’s giggles drifting down from upstairs.
He’s back in under a minute, the correct bulb in hand. Again he reaches up, and again that flash of stomach.
Fuck’s sake, Ainsley. Eyes up.
Within seconds the new bulb is in place.
“All right, want to try it?”
I step inside, flick the switch by the door, and the light comes on.
“There you go.” He gives me an easy smile. “Next time, maybe don’t climb wobbly furniture. You can borrow my stepladder anytime. Or just ask me to do it.”
“Thank you,” I say crisply, “but I’ve already ordered my own stepladder.”
Of course, I haven’t. But the thought of needing to ask him for help, of knocking on his door like some damsel in distress, makes my skin crawl. This fresh start is supposed to be about Lily and me standing on our own feet.
“And next time I’ll know to buy a bulb with a bayonet fitting,” I add, my tone clipped. “Every day’s a school day.”
His grin widens and he nods. “Fair enough. But if you need anything else—boxes moved, shelves put up, furniture assembled—I’m just next door.”
“We’re fine.”
“Course you are.” There’s something about the way he says it, not quite mocking but not quite serious either. “Well, if ever you change your mind, you know where to find me. Anyway, Isla!” he calls up the stairs. “Time for dinner!”
Small feet race across the landing, then both girls appear at the top of the stairs.
“Does Isla have to go already?” Lily says. “I’ve not even introduced her to all my toys yet.”
“Maybe she’ll get to meet the rest of them another time,” Struan says. “But for now Isla needs to come with me and have her dinner. C’mon, princess!”
Isla traipses down the stairs, and Struan glances at me. “I’ll see you Monday morning at the salon. If we don’t run into each other before then.” He winks, then he and his daughter head around the dividing hedge and disappear into their house.
A wink? Just who does he think he is? I close the door and let myself exhale, long and slow, willing the flutter in my stomach to bugger off.
“Mummy, Isla’s really nice,” Lily says, tugging on my top.
“Mmm.”
“Can she come around again?”
“Maybe.”
Lily sighs. “That means no.”
“It means maybe, Lily. Now, come on, let’s get you some supper.”
As I lead Lily into the kitchen, I shake away the memory of how easily Struan held me, like I weighed nothing at all. Because I’ve got no business thinking about that. I didn’t come here to fall into the arms of my next-door neighbour.
Even if I’ve somehow managed to do it twice in one day.