Chapter Twenty
Oliver
January
O liver zipped up his overnight bag and adjusted his shirt collar in the long mirror in his bedroom. Between packing up his life and arranging his caseload so he could leave work without feeling guilty, he hadn’t had a spare moment for anything over the festive period. Christmas Day had been the usual strained affair, though he’d sensed an unusual softening in Carla. He put that solely down to Hayley.
Today was the first day he would see her since the hospital trip and it would be back at Thistle Lodge… Perhaps a repeat of their dance was on the cards. Oliver took a deep breath. Restarting something with Hayley was a thought never far from the front of his mind, but doing anything with so many people there – especially Finlay – didn’t seem sensible. Not that any of it was sensible. More like an addiction. He just wanted to see her, breathe the same air and exist in the same space as her, even if it was only for a short period. And it would be exactly that because his days here were numbered.
How often had he thought about contacting her and asking her to come over in the last few weeks? But he couldn’t. Using her like that was unfair. She’d probably be mad at him and with good reason. He’d been deliberately uncommunicative. He needed to retrain himself to not be dependent on her. Those few times he’d been with her had been so wonderful he’d wanted more and more. He couldn’t swear nothing would happen this weekend – she always had that effect on him – but if it did, he could legitimately walk away because in just a few weeks, his life would be in London, not here.
The cold winter air bit into his skin as he stepped out of the house and locked up. Soon he’d be locking this door for the last time. He hadn’t put it on the market yet. His job came with an induction period and while he was certain it would all go fine, it seemed safer to keep the house for another month, just in case. Glenbriar was a popular place to live, and properties were sought after, so he had no doubt he’d sell it quickly when the time came.
A blanket of frost covered the town, and the surrounding hills wore crowns of snow. So beautiful. Sometimes he didn’t appreciate the beauty on his doorstep.
He slid into his car and set off through the town. Maybe he should have offered to give Hayley a lift, but that was pushing it. She’d be with her family, and he needed to limit contact with her, not increase it.
The pale winter sun cast long shadows over the fields, and the frost-kissed landscape glittered. Wintery trees stood like sentinels.
Thistle Lodge was like something from a fairy tale with this wintery backdrop. Other cars were parked around it, and Oliver drew into an empty space. The silence was almost unnerving as he opened the boot and took out his overnight bag. A squirming sensation lingered in his gut. He hated things like this with so many people, lots of them strangers, doing something he had little interest in and being alone. Normally he didn’t mind being alone, but being alone at something like this was like being exposed in the cold – a horrible naked feeling.
As he reached the hefty front doors, he took a deep breath. This was it. No going back now.
He made his way inside to the foyer full of olde-worlde charm and grandeur, with its tartan carpets and stag heads on the walls.
‘Hello.’ Tiffany Barlow stepped forward with a broad smile. ‘Can I take your name, please?’
‘Oliver Wright.’
‘Of course. I remember you. You’re the best man.’
‘Yes.’
‘Lovely. Now, let me check you off on the list.’ She glanced down a clipboard and made a tick. ‘I can direct you to your room and give you a brief rundown of activities, though I expect you remember from when you were here to visit.’
‘Yes.’
‘Fabulous. Did you have a pleasant journey? The roads seem ok despite the snow all around.’
‘It was fine, thanks.’ Oliver scanned the foyer, adorned with antique furniture and the grand staircase that led to the upper floors. People were milling around, chatting and laughing.
‘Lovely. So, your room is on the first floor. It’s called the Red Deer Room, and it’s to your left as you reach the top of the stairs. If you want to drop your luggage off there and take some time to settle in, then that’s fab. Everyone is getting together at eleven for drinks in the drawing room before a light lunch, followed by the cooking class.’
‘Thank you.’ He headed for the stairs and as he did so, heard his name being shouted.
‘Over here, Oliver!’ Finlay was waving from close to a heavy panelled door. Beside him was Genevieve, laughing with Hayley. Oliver’s heart missed a few beats. Hayley looked incredible. Her long hair was looped up high in a fancy ponytail and she was dressed in tight grey jeans and a sparkly black off-the-shoulder sweater with suede heeled boots. She’d nailed smart-casual. And gorgeous, sexy bridesmaid-to-be too. Her eyes met his, and she gave a little wave. His stomach flip-flopped.
Blinking, he held up his bag to Finlay, then pointed up the stairs. Finlay raised his glass to indicate he understood, and Oliver headed up.
How hard was this going to be? Did his face betray him? He needed to master himself and make sure his impassive, in-court face was the only one that showed up. He opened the door to the Red Deer Room and stared. A four-poster bed. Bloody hell. Was this the universe telling him to make good use of this? The Red Deer Room sounded like a place stags came to rut, and a horny beast was rampaging through his system right now. Fuck’s sake. Ten seconds looking at Hayley and this was what happened.
But she probably had her own room with a similar bed and maybe she didn’t want to share with him. Their almost-night seemed a long time ago. Maybe the moment had passed with it.
He dumped his bag on the luggage stand and raked his fingers through his hair. How long could he reasonably stay up here before Finlay sent a search party? And what if that search party was his little sister? Better just to face it. He adjusted his cuffs, rolled his neck, and left the room. Downstairs, the group had moved into the drawing room. A conversational hum filled the space, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the soft melody of a piano in the background.
He spotted Hayley before anyone else. His eyes zoned in on her like a targeted missile. She was still with Finlay, so he could approach her without needing an excuse.
‘Hi.’ He moved in beside her to the group chatting with Finlay and Genevieve.
‘Hey stranger. You made it.’
‘How could I miss it? You know I’ve been looking forward to it for so long.’
She smirked. ‘Yes, I do. And I’m glad I’ve caught you so soon. You realise as the best man and chief bridesmaid we have to dance together… It’s not optional. It’s a legal requirement. As a lawyer, I’m sure you’ll know that.’
‘Yes. I see.’ He nodded slowly. ‘But I think you’ve understated the importance of that dance.’
‘Have I?’ She pulled her head back and frowned.
‘It’s not just a legal requirement. It’s an essential for life.’
Her eyes widened and a grin spread across her face. ‘Actually, you are right.’
‘I always am.’
‘Seriously? And you’re big-headed.’
‘No. I actually am always Wright. Oliver Wright.’
‘Oh puh-lease.’ She let out a long, fake groan. ‘I suppose you want me to call you Mr Wright?’
‘If you must, or you could make it Mr Always Wright.’
‘“Mr right pain in the arse”, more like.’
He looked away and caught Finlay’s eye. That wiped the smile from Oliver’s face. Finlay shifted from Genevieve and the people he was talking to and moved in beside the two of them.
‘I hope you two aren’t going to argue all weekend.’ He draped his arm around Oliver’s shoulder.
‘Us?’ Hayley put her hand on her chest and pulled an outraged expression. ‘Why would we do that? We’re best buddies.’ She linked her arm through Oliver’s and beamed. ‘Aren’t we… Always?’
Her tone let him know she was using the word Always as a nickname, not just as part of her sentence.
‘Of course.’
Finlay raised an eyebrow and slapped Oliver on the back. ‘Ok, nice try. I completely don’t buy it, but if you can keep up the pretence this weekend, I’d appreciate it. Sorting out a fight between my wee sis and my bestie is not how I see this weekend playing out.’
‘We’ll be good.’ Hayley turned to Oliver, batting her lashes. ‘Won’t we?’
‘Are we ever anything else?’
‘Well, you are,’ she said, and Finlay folded his arms. ‘But this weekend, we’ll behave like the best of friends, lovers even.’
‘What?’ Oliver and Finlay said together.
Hayley laughed. ‘You two are so easy to wind up.’
Finlay rolled his eyes. ‘Do whatever you want, as long as it isn’t fighting, because I love you both too much for that.’ He stepped towards Hayley and pulled her in for a hug. Holding out his left arm, he said, ‘Group hug?’
Oliver moved forward slightly and let Finlay pull him into an embrace, but only for a second. Finlay winked at him as he released Hayley. ‘If either of you can keep Dad off the booze, then I’ll be forever grateful.’
‘No chance,’ Hayley said. ‘I think he and Liz were drunk before they got here.’
‘Yeah.’ Finlay rolled his eyes as he returned to Genevieve. Hayley glanced at Oliver, her wicked smile still in place. ‘I’d call that a win… We have his blessing.’
‘For what?’
‘Didn’t you hear what he said? He doesn’t mind if we’re friends… or lovers.’ She waggled her eyebrows.
‘Is that what you’re planning?’
‘I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind.’
‘Me too,’ Oliver whispered. ‘In fact, I can hardly think about anything else.’
‘Good. Then let’s keep up this little “act” for everyone’s benefit, shall we?’
‘Yes. Especially our own.’
Oliver put on an apron in the kitchen at Thistle Lodge and pulled a face. Me in an apron? Whatever next. He took his place next to Hayley. She grinned and eyed him up and down. ‘Very tasty.’
‘Shut up,’ he muttered.
She lifted a spatula from the countertop and slapped it against her palm. ‘Ready to whip up a storm, Mr Wright?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’
The head chef spoke, and Hayley stopped talking.
‘Isn’t this just a way of getting cheap labour?’ Oliver whispered as the chef explained the format. ‘I mean, come the end of the day, we’re paying these people but essentially cooking our own dinner.’
‘Shh!’ Hayley slapped him playfully on the backside with the spatula and he jumped.
‘What the—’
Hayley burst out laughing.
The head chef cleared her throat and continued. ‘So, we want teamwork and creativity.’
‘How much creativity?’ Oliver muttered. ‘This stuff has got to be edible.’
‘I expect they have a supply of frozen stuff they can heat up just in case.’ She glanced over at Genevieve and grinned. ‘She’ll be in her element here. This is the type of kitchen she works in at Duchan Fayre. Have you ever been up to see her doing a demo?’
‘No.’
‘She’s really good. And her cookware range is stunning. She’s so talented.’
‘So are you.’
Hayley gave him a little frown as she lifted a large knife and some carrots. ‘Thanks.’
‘Why do you need a meat cleaver? If you’re thinking about giving me another close shave with that, you can forget it.’
‘Oh, ha ha.’ She raised an eyebrow at it. ‘This is just a knife.’
‘You’re going to use that for vegetables?’
‘What would you use, master chef?’
‘Maybe this?’ He pulled a shorter, slimmer knife from the block.
‘Whatever. Hand it over then.’ She screwed up her face. ‘Are we meant to peel these first?’
‘Probably. Here, I’ll do that and you can chop.’
‘Nice teamwork, Mr Always Wright.’
‘Thanks, Miss McBridesmaid.’
‘So not funny.’
‘Touched a nerve, did I?’
‘Actually yes. I’ve been a bridesmaid way too often.’
He shook his head as he peeled the first carrot.
As they worked through the recipe, laughter and chatter echoed around the kitchen. Finlay was doing an impression of Genevieve on one of her social media reels. ‘And once you’ve done that, go right ahead and try adding some avocados. Everyone knows they’re my all-time favourite.’
‘Shut up, cheeky.’ She smacked him with a dishcloth.
‘Accurate though,’ Oliver said aside to Hayley. ‘Doesn’t she have a thing about avocados?’
‘I think she mentions them once or twice. Oops.’ Her attempt at casually brushing the chopped veg off the chopping board and into the pan had gone tits up and cubed carrots, potatoes and celery had rolled off everywhere. ‘That’s not as easy as it looks.’
‘Seriously? Would you look at this?’ Oliver scooped up some of the stray vegetables. ‘This is worse than a home ec class at school.’
‘Look at those show-offs.’ Hayley pointed across the room to her cousin, Aidan, and his red-haired fiancée. ‘Lilah’s a great cook. I bet whatever they make is excellent.’
‘And you don’t think everyone will love our soup?’
‘Possibly.’ Hayley checked the recipe. ‘Ok, we need spice.’
‘We sure do.’ Oliver lifted the portable rack and set it between them.
‘Um… Do you mean—’
A loud clatter made everyone turn around. At the far side of the room, a couple collapsed laughing and bent over to pick something up.
‘Ok.’ Oliver frowned in their direction. ‘Whatever they’re making, I don’t want to try.’
‘That’s Brann.’ Hayley smiled across at him. ‘He’s funny… and sweet.’
Oliver raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh yeah?’ A burning sensation in his chest made him want to kill Brann, and he balled his fists.
‘Can you deny he’s handsome?’
‘Um… He’s not exactly my type. Do you have a thing for him?’
‘No.’ Hayley smirked. ‘He’s a nice guy, but, well, just no.’
‘Looks like you’re out of luck.’ He nudged his head in the direction of the woman beside him.
A frown crossed her brow, and Oliver eyed her. Was she actually interested in Brann? His insides simmered. But he couldn’t expect her to stay single forever.
‘That’s our friend, Chloe. They’re not together, are they?’ she said, and it sounded like she was musing aloud, more than actually asking.
Oliver gave a little shrug. ‘How should I know?’
‘Aw look.’ Hayley had turned her attention to another couple close by. ‘That’s my wee cousin, Willow. She’s engaged to Marcus Bowman. Have you seen them on TV presenting Destination Forecast ?’
‘Destination what? I’ve never heard of it.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘In hiding, it would appear.’
‘I actually believe it.’ She gave him a prod. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll keep you up to date.’
‘Great.’ His eyes met hers and she smiled at him. His heart flooded with heat. Why did this feel so easy? And almost… fun. He hardly dared even think it, but he was actually having fun in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. With Hayley beside him though, everything was ok – almost. He wished Brann would disappear, but now Hayley had stopped talking about him, she didn’t even look his way and he didn’t look hers. Maybe Oliver had nothing to worry about. For now, at least.
‘This looks good.’ A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see Hayley and Finlay’s mum.
‘Hi Lisa,’ he said.
‘I’m at the table with Geoff and Hilary, Genevieve’s parents,’ she said. ‘I feel a bit like a gooseberry. Everyone seems to have partners except me, so I’ll annoy you instead.’
‘Aw.’ Hayley hugged her. ‘Stick with us. You’re a good cook. You can save our soup.’
Lisa peered at it. ‘Looks ok as it is.’ Her eyes wandered to another table where Hayley’s dad and Liz were laughing with some other people.
‘Who are the people with your dad?’ Oliver asked Hayley.
‘Liz’s kids.’
‘I don’t want to sound bitter,’ Lisa said, ‘but is her dress not a bit inappropriate?’
‘It’s very short,’ Oliver agreed.
‘That’s just her way, Mum.’ Hayley waved her hand absently. ‘She likes to be seen.’
They spent another forty minutes perfecting their dishes and when everything was ready and the baked dishes were in the oven, they left the kitchen. In the foyer, they were presented with more champagne before heading for the ballroom dance class. Lisa was back chatting with Genevieve’s parents and Oliver was alone with Hayley again.
‘Still going to dance with me?’ She grinned at him.
‘Unless you’d prefer Brann.’
She let out a little chuckle. ‘I like Brann and I think he’s nice, but I don’t fancy him.’
‘Does that mean you—’
‘Obviously.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I would have thought you’d have worked that out by now.’
‘Good.’ He leaned closer. ‘Because the feeling’s still mutual.’
She gave him a wink and headed into the ballroom.
A soft melody played in the background. Oliver stuck close to Hayley. Finlay may joke about them pretending to be friends for the weekend, but Oliver wasn’t planning on letting her out of his sight. He couldn’t get through any of this without her. He eyed the dancefloor and drew in a breath. The last time he’d been in here with her… Well… Maybe this time the night wouldn’t end with just a kiss.
‘Alright, lovely people,’ the dance instructor said. ‘We have a wonderful mix today of couples, families, and friends. When we dance. You do you. Ok? There are no expectations. If you want your dance to be fun, make it fun. If you want it to be energetic, make it energetic. Same goes for entertaining, sensual, passionate. You make it what suits you and your partner. If you wish to change partners for different dances, that’s ok too. This isn’t Strictly . No need to panic.’ He smiled and caught Oliver’s eye. Did he look like he was panicking? Probably. ‘Ah, I remember you two.’ He pointed at Hayley and Oliver. ‘You came for a visit and your dancing was hot. Such passion.’
For Christ’s sake . Oliver’s cheeks were certainly hot. Why was everyone staring at him and, worst of all, Finlay?
‘Interesting.’ Finlay sauntered over, looking between the two of them. ‘Got something you want to tell me?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Hayley flicked him. ‘Obviously, we were hot dancers. I mean, just look at us.’
Finlay rolled his eyes and Oliver let out his breath. God, she’s good.
‘I hope Mum’s ok,’ Hayley said. ‘I think she’s a bit lonely.’
‘Is she?’ Finlay smirked. ‘You seen who’s dancing with her?’
They looked around to see Brann leading her to the floor and Lisa fanning her neck.
‘He’s so nice,’ Hayley said.
‘This is why all the housewives fancy him.’
‘Sounds a bit sexist to me,’ Oliver muttered.
‘I’m sure the househusbands love him too.’ Finlay patted his arm and smirked.
Oliver gave him the look he reserved for Finlay’s bad jokes.
Several of the Scottish country dances involved sets, some needed threes instead of twos, and only a few were close waltzes, which was probably just as well.
‘This reminds me of school,’ Finlay said, as they lined up for a waltz. ‘I have to teach this every November to high school students for St Andrews Day ceilidhs. Can you imagine a more painful form of torture?’
‘I can,’ Hayley said as he moved off. She had her hand clamped to Oliver’s shoulder while he held her waist.
‘What’s that?’
‘Not being allowed to have my wicked way with you.’
He leaned in so his lips were at her ear. ‘Later. You can be as wicked as you like.’
‘Fantastic. Do you have a four-poster bed?’
‘I do.’
‘Me too. How will we choose?’
‘Maybe we could test them both.’
She chuckled. ‘You’re on.’
He led her around in a twirl.
‘My-my, Mr Wright, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself.’
He focused on the soft heat of her skin, and a shiver coursed through him. The dance instructor continued to call the moves.
‘I am enjoying myself,’ Oliver said. ‘Your company anyway.’
‘Me too.’
Her body moved with grace, her hand resting on his shoulder while his stayed clamped on her waist. The closeness was electrifying.
The instructor’s voice faded into the background, leaving only the soft hum of the music. Hayley’s gaze locked with Oliver’s, and for a moment, the world around him paused.
‘Later,’ he whispered again, partly as a reminder to himself. The warmth of Hayley’s breath brushed against his cheek, and the subtle scent of her perfume heightened his senses.
‘Ok,’ she said. ‘Though my patience is low.’
‘Mine too.’
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘See, Mr Wright, dancing isn’t so bad, is it?’
‘Nope. And neither are you.’ He gently stroked a strand of her glorious hair from her face and for a split second considered kissing her. But in his peripheral vision, he was aware of other people. One of them could be Finlay, or her mum, or dad, or Genevieve, and kissing her like that, here, wasn’t appropriate, no matter how much he wanted to.