Chapter 3
“Rough shift?” Nate perched on the barstool beside Warren, his chin dipped in sympathy.
Warren was glad to see a friendly face – the only friendly face, actually, since he’d relocated to Belbarrow two weeks ago. Or returned, though he’d been away from the remote town for so long it didn’t really feel like coming home. Too many ghosts for that.
He took a healthy gulp of his second pint of the night, then licked the foam from his upper lip before looking back at his co-worker, trying not to let his features betray him.
Nate appeared unfairly relaxed in a way Warren hadn’t yet seen of the firefighter, a grey beanie hiding his inky black hair and loose joggers a world away from the bulky uniforms they wore on shift.
Clearly, he was enjoying his day off, because he ordered a double rum and Coke from the grey-haired bloke at the bar and shucked off his jacket like he intended to stay a while.
“Spent half of it in the loch rescuing a bloody drowning cat. Nearly lost an eye.” Warren pointed to the scratch by his brow, and didn’t care if it looked like he was sulking.
He was. He’d spent half his life retrieving animals from dangerous places, and all he ever got in return were claw marks.
“Then I spent the other half doing one of the chief’s favourite drills. ”
The corner of Nate’s lips pulled into a smirk as he tugged at the golden hoop in his earlobe. “Who played the role of the baby this time?”
Warren’s flat look made clear that the answer, of course, was him.
While he knew drills were as much a part of the job as handling emergencies – if not more in such a quiet area – having to wail like a newborn while a co-worker carried him out of the river, bridal style, was a new low.
He was just glad Lorna was stronger than she looked, otherwise he might have ended up with a few broken bones.
It wasn’t every day someone lugged him around.
It hadn’t been like this in Inverness. They hadn’t had much time to be creative with their drills on account of having actual fires to put out, road accidents to tend to, people to save.
He’d forgotten just how uneventful small-town living could be, even when working for the emergency services, and he half-wondered if the transfer had been a mistake.
He was sure he’d think differently when he settled in properly, but for now, he longed for the adrenaline of his old position.
If nothing else, it had kept him busy enough that he hadn’t had time to think about much else.
And he missed drinking in his city old haunts, where people had mostly been passing through and didn’t come with history or baggage.
He’d tried to start a pleasant conversation with someone earlier, only to discover the woman – and her friends – had sharper claws than Mrs George’s cat.
In the city, it had been far easier to chat to people knowing you’d likely never see them again.
Now, he was still pointedly ignoring the deathly daggers shot from the couple across the pub.
Nate’s throaty laugh was drowned out by the drunkards watching football in the corner. “Lucky you.”
“Lucky me,” he agreed, then glugged his beer in an attempt to forget both about the drill and the terrible conversation. “What about you? Enjoy your day off?”
Nate’s drink was delivered to him, and he thanked the bartender before twisting to give Warren his full attention.
“Nah. Played FIFA all day and then felt guilty about not being more productive. Just came for a drink with a few mates to make up for it, which only made me realise that I’d rather still be scoring goals in my PJs. ”
Warren chuckled. He remembered many days like that in his twenties, too.
He’d only realised in the past few years just how desperate he was to start living.
To push the distractions away and find something real.
Build something proper. Connections. A family.
The need was like an itch: now he knew it was there, he couldn’t stop focusing on it.
“Well, there isn’t much else to do round here,” he commented. “I’d forgotten how quiet it was.”
“You’ve lived here before?” Nate’s brows furrowed beneath the rim of his beanie.
Warren rubbed at his five o’clock shadow, a lump forming in his throat as he considered whether to tell Nate about his past. As nice as the lad was, he didn’t need to know the whole backstory.
Better to just keep it to himself for now.
“Near here. Long time ago. Moved to Inverness when I was twelve.”
“What made you want to come back?” Nate’s tone was gentle, lightly nudging rather than fiercely prying.
His kind nature wasn’t something Warren was used to: his mates in the city were typical Scotsmen, quick to take the piss at any opportunity and not ones to venture very deep into personal lives.
Warren hadn’t minded most of the time, finding it helped him feel “normal”, able to blend in despite his past, something that had been impossible as a teenager.
Back then, everyone seemed to have known his story, and he’d spent his high school years shrouded in a sympathy he couldn’t escape.
Nate’s laid-back attitude and patience made it easy to feel comfortable, which meant that Warren’s instinct to evade his past required twice as much work.
Although it was easier when he remembered how crap it had been to be the poor lad everyone pitied.
He wouldn’t be defined by it again, even if he was agonisingly close to the place that haunted him.
He cleared his throat, resting his elbows on the sticky bar and scooping up a few droplets of condensation on his glass. “Not sure, yet. Felt like a change.” He was quick to prise the attention away from himself. “What about you? Have you always lived in this neck of the woods?”
“Nah, I grew up near Fort William and after the training course, I just took the first job I could find. Anything to get away. Haven’t left Belbarrow since. Might be quiet here, but I’m happy enough.”
“Fair play.” A flash of colour in Warren’s periphery distracted him.
A few stools down, a petite woman patiently waited to order while swirling a slice of lemon around the bottom of her otherwise empty glass with a paper straw.
Her straight, shoulder-length hair reminded him of the bright gold centre of a flame.
She was familiar, and not just because he spent most of his life near fire, though he couldn’t place why at first. Not until the memory of a silhouette with the same supple curves flickered through his mind.
Hadn’t she been in the window of the bookshop this morning?
Hadn’t she been watching him?
He broke into a smirk, hoping he wasn’t wrong and that it was, in fact, her.
With the shine of the low autumn sun hitting the bookstore, he’d only glimpsed a curvy silhouette with flashes of that pale amber hair.
She’d been quick to disappear when he’d tried to meet her eye.
For a moment, he’d considered taking a video, convinced it was an interpretive dance meant to draw in passersby.
Nate eclipsed his view of the woman, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry, mate. Am I getting in the way of your gawking?”
Warren scoffed. “I’m not gawking .”
“Uh-huh, sure. Listen, I’m gonna head back to my mates, but feel free to join us for a game of pool when you’re not too busy trying to pull every woman in town.”
He scowled over his shoulder as Nate wandered off, calling: “Excuse me for being sociable!”
The loud words drew the woman’s attention, though her glance flitted over him and then away again much too swiftly. Maybe he’d been wrong and she wasn’t interested. That seemed to be the theme of the evening.
He told himself not to look again, although with Nate gone, the empty stools between them made her presence hard to ignore.
As her drinks were sorted, the woman began to tap her credit card nervously against the bar, and without even meaning to, he turned to see what the noise was, only to find her staring at a water stain as though it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.
Warren felt the words tumble out of his mouth before his mind could catch up. Was he that starved of social contact – or was it her? “Your face is familiar. Have we met before?” Not the most suave or original conversation starter, but it was too late now.
Crimson seeped across her freckled cheeks, and she tucked her hair behind her ear before letting it fall loose again, deciding it was better used as a curtain to pull between them.
His stomach warmed – with the beer, probably, but he’d admit it was a wee bit adorable.
Most of the women he chatted to online or dated played it cool, keeping him on his toes.
Fun at first, but it’d be nice to feel sparks from the get-go instead of both sides pretending not to care.
“Nope,” she stammered. “Don’t think so.”
There was a hint of a smile as she spoke, and Warren took it as an invitation to lean in a little, aware his voice sounded loud compared to the soft lilt of hers.
“You sure? I could have sworn I saw you in the bookstore recently.” He shifted stools, finally landing right beside her. Though he made sure not to infringe on her personal space, she still shuffled back like they were both the same poles of a magnet, repelling one another. Too much?
Well, he hoped not. She was effortlessly pretty, with a delicate point to her nose and her lips pink as roses, although slightly chapped. Everything about her seemed heart-shaped: her face, her mouth, even the dimple on her chin.
She stiffened, frosting over all at once. “You don’t look like somebody who reads.”