Go Home, Ivy

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

T he other side of the bed sagged slightly causing her to stir. She turned her face, only to have it met and cupped by a coarse hand. Eyes flitting open, she saw him, warm gaze beating down on her.

“Ivy.”

She murmured in response, distracted by the thumb dragging fire across her cheekbone. Moving to sit up and seek an explanation, the hand trailed down the centre of her neck, applying gentle pressure once at the base, encouraging her back to the pillow. His broad form followed the hand, moving over her.

“Is this okay?” He breathed, nose brushing over hers.

Her chest rising quickly, she swallowed and attempted a nod. As she lifted her chin in confirmation, their lips grazed each other. His soft moan encouraged her mouth to part, allowing him access.

Now with an eager opening, his hand scooped behind her head, fisting gently in her hair, pressing further into her mouth as she responded to him.

Her hands danced over the dark hair on his chest and crept up the back of his neck. Unconsciously pulling him closer, his weight was on her now. The contact of their abdomens a centre of heat pooling between them.

Just as her hips began to move under him, he broke contact, lifting himself above her and pulling off his shirt. For the brief moment he rose in front of her, between her legs, she drank in his form in the dark. When he dipped once more, he swerved her waiting mouth, instead pressing a kiss to her throat and then trailing his tongue down her body.

Her skin was alight as her mind sang. When he reached her core, she pressed him into her, her hands in his hair.

His hands spread under her, his mouth moved deftly across her and he responded to every wordless request her moans and movements delivered.

Heat took her as his eyes flicked up to hers and he groaned into her. His heavy lids barely concealed the smirk as he drank in her want.

As the rhythmic spell he cast reached its apex, she cried out. “Ross!”

Eyes snapping open and chest heaving, Ivy fought to reanchor herself in the present. Rolling over and looking at her phone, it was only four am.

Lifting a pillow from the empty side of the bed, she placed it over her face and inhaled the darkness for a moment. As her heart rate slow, she spoke out loud.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Things were not going well. Despite meticulous planning and multiple imaginary dress runs, the actual dress run had gotten off to a less than stellar start.

Ivy had slept in. Still flustered, she was now bulldozing her way through the cottage getting everything she needed together. Hovering over her suitcase as she threw on an all-weather outfit, she decided to take an extra pair of socks, well aware that the trip would involve a brief wade to shore, and that waterproof trousers and boots could only do so much.

As she started the car, her phone rang, Kirsty’s name flashing onto the screen.

She turned on the radio, allowing the call to connect through the car as she pulled onto the road.

“Hey, what’s up? I’m on my way.”

“Ivy, I’m so sorry.” Her heart sank. “A pipe burst at Mòr this morning, so Ally and I need to stay here and get things sorted.”

“Shit, sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, not at all, we’ll be fine, just a lot of cleaning, I think! But the food is all here.”

“Do you want me to come by on my way down?”

“No, Ross is with us, he’s just leaving now and it’s in his van and all.”

Her stomach flipped at the name, and she wrung the steering wheel in her hands as heat crept up her neck.

“Great. That’s great. Um, tell him thanks and I’ll see him there.”

“I’ll make it up to you! Promise!”

“Honestly, don’t worry about it. I’m out of a job if the restaurant’s gubbed, so rescue away.”

They laughed, said their goodbyes, and hung up.

Ivy groaned, running through all the crises she’d managed in the past and how almost all of them far surpassed being down two guests on a dry run of a project. Despite that, her stomach churned, and a fine sweat built between beer shoulders. She considered phoning Mhairi, looking for some mental support but decided against it. The photographer had gone down early to get started on photos of the harbour and boat, so there was a good chance she was with Tomas already. Worse still, if Ross had left Mòr just now, he would beat Ivy to the rest of them, and she did not want to walk into that having already given herself away. She would arrive cool, calm and collected. On the outside at least.

On the plus side, the weather was glorious. A storm was looking likely at some point, but Tomas’s forecast monitoring suggested it would hit around 8pm. With their plans to be back in Tarbert by four, there should be no issues. For now, it was a balmy nineteen degrees, with a gentle breeze and the sun playing up every colour the landscape had to offer. So small hiccups on the start line aside, Ivy was not completely fucked.

She was just about to cross from Lewis into Harris, when a selfie of Mhairi and an unimpressed Tomas flashed up on her phone. Ivy laughed, instructing Siri to reply that Mhairi looked born to be on a dock in the fisherman’s jumper that she was fairly sure the girl would have bought specifically for this outing. Despite all the stereotypes one might have of a person living in the islands, she was more an indoors type, having once told Ivy that the outdoors and stunning Hebridean landscape was best enjoyed in front of a log fire with a dram of whisky, through a window. They agreed to disagree, but she’d been game for today once Ivy had highlighted the luxury angle.

A reply pinged back, OMG the hot second mate?? You could’ve told me it was ROSS MACLEOD!!

Mhairi may have gone down early to take photos for their advertising materials, but she was apparently getting acquainted with all the sights. They didn’t move in the same circles, Ivy was sure, so she dreaded to think how Mhairi knew who he was. Maybe he’d been terrorising the community with his scowl enough that it had made it to the Tourism Office to warn innocent adventurers.

Ivy rolled her eyes, glad that when she dictated messages Siri did not also communicate the edge to the Have him, she sent back. She then scolded the knot in her stomach that she couldn’t be sure was annoyance at Ross’s presence rather than Mhairi getting to be the one in it instead of her.

“Definitely the first one,” Ivy said aloud in the car, but the thought of knots was now resurfacing memories of his firm arms and deft hands. She groaned as her cheeks flushed.

With a quick switch to the least sexy playlist she had, and a further twenty minutes driving, she was pulling into the marina. Ivy’s skin itched as she looked down to the dock and saw the three of them laughing between animated chunks of conversation. Tomas was standing at the bow, sifting through a length of rope as they spoke, and Ross and Mhairi were together appearing to be looking through the hamper he’d brought down. Mhairi was always at ease, and as a photographer, Ivy supposed it was her job to make others feel at ease with her. And he was probably the ideal candidate, photographable as he was, the grumpy scowl could be on any vogue cover you liked. He was in the same navy fleece quarter zip as Tomas, with the tour company logo embroidered over the heart. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and one hand was gesturing broadly across the open water in front of them. His posturing was quietly confident, and Ivy got the impression he was giving a well-oiled spiel, but one that was no less enthusiastic about the area despite the many repetitions. His dark hair had an almost auburn tint to it in the morning sun, and the scattered shadows on the side facing Ivy carved out a firm cheek and jaw. Ivy had almost reached them when she heard him laugh. It was warm and genuine, and she watched how his whole face lit up, just for a second, and how the same glow was mirrored in Mhairi. As the sound reached Ivy she felt the warmth bloom in her own chest, before frustration crept in. It made no sense for him to dislike her. He barely knew her. Save from the whole swimsuit incident. And then the car thing. But beyond that, really all he had to go off was that she was a good friend of his brother and sister-in-law’s, that she had worked wonders on their business and was, infamously good craic. His loss really. And the hollow feeling in her chest as she thought of it was no indication of a sense of misplaced loss on her part. Definitely not.

Before she could reckon with that, Mhairi looked round and spotted her just metres from the boat.

“Ivy, you’re here!”

“Morning guys,” she breezed back, remembering she was actually excited for this.

“Early as always, I wasn’t expecting you until ten!”

“I can’t help it.” She laughed.

Now speaking to Ross, Mhairi continued, “She’s not joking. Lateness is not an option for our Ivy.”

He looked at her, turning only his head and offered her a half nod and a tight-lipped smile, before muttering “Hi.”

“How were Kirsty and Ally this morning?” Ivy asked, stepping onto the boat, conscious that no hand was offered this time.

“Fine, all in hand. The food’s all here,” he grumbled, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“It looks amazing , Ivy. Do you want to see?” Mhairi chipped in.

“I trust them.” And then realising Mhairi knew her too well, “And Kirsty showed me a million pictures last night.”

Her friend laughed, “I’d expect nothing less. I’ve just as many photos of the boat this morning for my little dictator.”

She felt her cheeks redden and her eyes flicked over to Ross, but he was very committed to staring down at his shoes now. Why she would care about him thinking she was anything less than wild and free was beyond her, given he exuded all the levity of an incarcerated elephant.

“Well then, let’s get this show on the road! Tomas?”

The captain came to join them, “Ready when you are, boss.” He winked.

“Seeing as I’ll not be on the actual tours, I’d love you to take over, just do whatever you’d do for the clients.”

“Then lifejackets on and take a seat ladies,” he boomed. “Ross, pour the tea and let’s rock and roll.”

* * *

“God, I need to get a photo of him for the brochure. Folk will pay the extra just to look at him,” Mhairi gushed, watching him and Tomas talk over the lip of her mug as she sipped.

Ivy bit the inside of her cheek as she lowered her own mug but kept her eyes on the warm liquid. “Mmm, right,” she muttered.

“Easy on the eyes. And I can do the grumpy thing, no problem. Do you reckon we get a discount on the tours, and I’ll be back, oh let’s say, weekly?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she spoke, clearly besotted.

Ivy opened her mouth but was saved by Tomas introducing the tour.

It was about ninety minutes to Sandaigh, and Ivy was pleased to discover that Tomas had plenty of interesting material to fill the time. He was a seasoned tour guide, allowing plenty of time for conversation, questions and general appreciation of the beauty of the trip along the way. And of course, the tea and biscuits flowed, enough to satisfy but not so much to ruin the gourmet lunch awaiting them from the Mòr hampers once they landed. They mulled about the deck of the boat while he spoke, moving from port to starboard, bow to stern as Tomas pointed out various birds, landmarks and even minke whales at one point. This was exactly what Ivy had envisioned, and she was already feeling the giddy anticipation of the first official tour, despite that being months away. She loved a job well done, and, without getting ahead of herself, felt that was where they were heading. A voice in the back of head whispered that this success might be the trick needed for a longer post to be magicked up for her on the island tourism board. But as excited as she was about this project, and despite the fact that her friends and colleagues here constantly joked about not letting her leave, and Ivy not putting up a fight at the comments, she’d never actually dreamt that dream. At least not out loud. That dream was in direct contradiction of The Dream that she had spent the last 6 years working towards, and that this project was supposed to be giving way to. When the reviews from the first tours came in, she would have the full picture and then she’d know where she stood. So, for now, she continued as is, and let it fizz beneath the surface.

During the crossing, Ivy had been unable to avoid a handful of glances at her adversary behind the wheel. Entirely accidental of course. She was sure she had seen a splash that could’ve been dolphins behind the cabin that last time. Sure of it. But when he just happened to be in her eyeline, she was intrigued by the contentment on his face. He looked blissful back there yet surrounded by quiet authority. Something in his relaxed face and confident grip on the wheel stirred something in her and she fought the pull she felt to his side.

Unfortunately, she was alerted to the fact that she’d been staring too long when his eyes met hers. Her own eyes widened, and she felt a blush creep across her cheeks and before she could tear herself away, she watched that tranquil expression that had intrigued her moments ago falter. In a fraction of a second she watched his grip strangle the wheel, and the muscle at the corner of his mouth tense. His body seemed to go rigid while his face collapsed into a scowl. He looked away first, and her body sank back into the chair, revealing quite how close she had been to going to him just a second before.

Tomas announced that they were ten minutes away from their destination, and that he was taking a pause in his hosting duties to plan the attack with Ross in the cabin. There was no dock on Sandaigh and so landing required getting the boat as close as they could and then a short wade, so they were looking for the safest spot to do so.

In the meantime, Ivy indulged in a main character-gazing out to sea-embracing destiny moment. She turned her face outward, eyes closed and inhaled deeply. When not mixed with the mainland’s air pollution and engine oil, the salty and fishy smell of the sea was fresh and welcoming. A fine spray dusted her cheeks, offering a pleasant contrast to the warm glow of the Hebridean sun. While the tight spring in her abdomen furthered it’s unwinding, as it always did when she was by the sea, she rolled her shoulders, imagining a time when this was just every day, not a work trip. Occasionally she worried that the magic of the islands lay in the fact that she wasn’t here forever. There was something intangible in the way being here made her feel, and sometimes that sense of transience seemed to increase the value of being here, like she had to feel and appreciate every second (even the windy, rainy ones) in case she was never back again. For so many things the chase was the best part. Maybe if she lived here full time, seeing whales and dolphins would be as commonplace as a stray cat in Edinburgh. Maybe the sea would lose some of its pull if it was just there all the time.

But maybe it wouldn’t.

Something in her said that this place had enough to reveal to keep her occupied well into retirement.

A smile tickled the corners of her mouth as she pictured it. Ninety and weather beaten, sat in a cliff top garden, overlooking the Atlantic coast. A ball of local wool tangled at her ankles as her knitting fought for attention with a rabble of dogs. Probably knitting for her grandchildren, which she hoped for as a product of the children she had almost admitted to herself she wanted. Ivy curled her fingers as a warmth spread to her real hand when her fantasy hand was gripped by a partner. In the daydream she looked to him and felt a burst of heat in her chest. She tracked up the well worked fingers, along sturdy tanned forearms to settle among dark hair and searching blue eyes that looked like?—

Thud .

Ivy snapped out of it with a start, opening her eyes to find a definitely very different set of fingers, forearms and blue eyes dropping a large bundle of rope by her feet while he worked. Definitely different, she thought to herself, because there was no way she was daydreaming about growing old with this sentient thundercloud, no matter how nice his forearms muscles looked when he?—

“What?” Tone sharp as always, he caught her staring again.

“Sorry, I was… You could do without dropping ropes on feet when the customers are paying.”

He looked down at the pile and winced for a second. If she didn’t know him better, the look when he came back to face her would almost have been apologetic, before quickly returning to his default glower.

“It didn’t hit your feet,” he mumbled, and she wasn’t quite sure if he was still addressing her.

“Disappointed?” she singsonged and plastered on a pageant smile to welcome his confused expression when he snapped his head up.

As she continued to beam, his brow creased briefly, and his tongue flicked at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he offered through gritted teeth, before returning to tying the offending rope to the rail.

“No harm done,” Ivy continued, standing from her seat. “Are you coming ashore?” She teased in her best pirate voice.

“That’s not…” he closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. “Yes, Tomas does the boat tours, I’m doing the land part.”

“Oh.” She paused for too long before continuing, leaving them both lingering with eyes fixed on each other. Before the creeping vice in her chest could fully ramp up, she found her voice again, albeit strangled as she continued. “Great. I didn’t... but great! See you there!”

Her voice was too high pitched by far, and after her farewell she was faced with the uncomfortable realisation that they were both in a boat. Not even a big boat. He looked down at her with a painful mix of pity and confusion painted on his face. His mouth opened and closed as she dithered. Finally accepting that a hole was not about to open in the deck for her to crawl into, she settled on shuffling to the bow to join Mhairi, eyes drilled forward as her cheeks flushed.

Mhairi was snapping away on her camera, now able to photograph the island itself as they approached. As Ivy arrived at her side, she was hanging from the side of the boat, trying to capture the clutch of jellyfish alongside them. The purpose of camera straps was well demonstrated when she startled, almost losing her grip on the equipment, and worryingly on the boat itself, as Ivy’s bracelet clinked against the metal rails.

“Jeeesus Ivy,” she laughed, pulling herself back to safety.

“Shit, sorry, are you good?” Ivy balked, both hands now on her friend’s shoulders.

“No harm done.” Mhairi smiled, patting herself down. “I’d almost forgotten there was anyone else here. It’s amazing, right?!”

“My favourite feeling,” she oozed, glad to have her own feelings validated.

“I can’t believe I’ve not come out here before. Thank God for a luxury lunch offer enticing me down.”

“Oh, I can magic up plenty of opportunities if you’re getting on board.” Ivy winked. “My list is endless.”

“Ah, we’ll see. My desk is open to all five-star, executive experience pitches.”

“Noted. Maybe we’ll see how this one goes first, eh?”

“Ever practical, Ivy. Can’t wait until we trap you here forever, instead of letting you vanish back to Edinburgh with all these skills.”

She offered Mhairi only a cocked eyebrow over a broad grin in reply.

They paused for a second, both looking in awe at the dramatic cliffs rising in front of them as they entered the bay they’d be anchoring in a matter of minutes. Mhairi even took a moment to look with her own eyes, rather than through her viewfinder, releasing a reverent sigh as she did.

“Well ladies and g— ladies,” Ross boomed from behind them, hiding his small cough at his stumble well, Ivy noted. “We are dropping our anchor as we speak, and then it’s just a quick dip until we can get going.”

Mhairi and Ivy both barely moved to look at him as he spoke, turning their ears just enough to pay respect to his position as their guide, but unable to fully tear their eyes away from their destination.

“Ivy,” he seemed to chew on her name, and she felt a twinge run up her spine as she turned to look at him face on. “Anything you want to say or…”

He appeared to have caught the sun on the trip over, his cheeks glowing pink as he spoke to her. His eyes were, technically speaking, on her, but they darted around her face and the stony rock faces framing her as he continued. A habit she discovered she was grateful for, relieved to not be fully pinned by that blue gaze.

“No, no.” She attempted cool. Attempted. “You crack on.” A second too late to be natural, she smiled at him, very aware of the position of her teeth, and lips, and cheeks, and everything really, as she remained under his spotlight.

“I’m good to go as well,” chimed Mhairi, as she pulled her camera bag back over her shoulder, reminding Ivy there were other people on the boat. Or the planet. Ross seemed shocked by her presence as well, jumping and severing the line between he and Ivy.

“Right” his voice cracked, as he clapped his hands together. “Here we go then!”

He hopped down from the boat into the shallows, reaching up as Tomas handed down the cooler. As he waded to the beach to deposit their lunch in order to free himself up to help his guests off the boat, Mhairi checked her bags, rubbing a cloth over the lens she’d been shooting with. Ivy was left in the same place, feet rooted to the deck, catching her breath. Her hand began to tingle as she looked at the gap in the railing, watching her lift down as he walked back towards the boat.

She could hear Tomas and Mhairi laughing behind her, as her colleague gushed over the surroundings, the previous reverence now bubbling over into pure thrill.

Ivy was fixed on Ross as he arrived beneath her in the water, and just hoped it came across as nerves instead of… whatever it was.

“Ok, Ivy,” Tomas shouted from behind her, unbothered by her lack of attention. “Arse on the edge, take His Lordship’s hand, and off you go.”

She watched as Ross tutted, looking up at his boss and shaking his head. Some exchange happened over her head that she was too far removed from to translate, and then he was looking at her.

“Ready?” He almost whispered, his head down and his eyes peeking out from under his strong brow. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out as her tongue dried against its roof, so she offered a nod in response.

He lifted his hand to her, and she squatted to drape her legs over the side of the boat. As she took it, his arm brushed against her thigh and she bristled. Ivy felt the solidness of his body anchoring the arm she now gripped, and she fought the urge to squeeze his rough hand.

“See you on the other side!” Mhairi called down, and Ivy turned to shoot her a look.

When she turned back, she caught his other arm flinching toward her waist, then hang mid air, before adopting a position close enough to catch her, but without committing to contact.

“Well then?” Ivy continued, and accepting his head tilt as a green light, slid down.

Her wellie booted feet hit the water, and she rocked backwards half a step. His hand shot out and captured her waist. Suddenly, in spite of the brisk Minch waters, her temperature soared. Worse still, his hand squeezed the soft skin around her hips for barely a fraction, until the scald of her simmering core registered and it leapt free.

“Good,” he announced, too loudly. “Good. Well done. Just— yeah. The beach,” he stuttered, jerking his head towards the white sand, with his now free hand gripping his neck. His eyes were everywhere but on hers and she noted that the sun on his cheeks had bloomed into full burn territory in the last five minutes. The sun was awfully warm today, in spite of itself. The forecast, and thermometer on the boat right here and now, may have said nineteen degrees, but the blaze sweeping her own body begged to differ.

Ivy began wading the ten feet or so to the white sandy beach, aiming for where Ross had stacked their supplies. Over her shoulder, she could hear Mhairi laughing, with Ross and Tomas chattering along with her. Her neck bristled, but she focused intently forward, paying careful attention to where she was placing her feet, as the high tide meant some seaweed and rock to navigate.

She reflected on whether or not this was ‘part of the experience’ or ‘really fucking annoying, I don’t want wet feet’. You couldn’t land closed hull boats on Sandaigh, out of concern mice and rats would be re-introduced and cause harm to the birds found here. She had thought the quick wade might be giving authentic and adventurous, but maybe it was more hassle than just bringing a RIB along. Some tour companies just used RIBs from the marina, but that did not necessarily fit the luxury element of Ivy’s plans, though those were some of the trips she’d first fallen in love with. Tomas had confirmed that his boat was big enough to carry a RIB attached to the side that they could then lower down and use to get to the island. To be determined.

As she reached the beach, she admired the earth toned, tartan blankets that were rolled up on top of the cooler. She’d sourced them from local tweed makers and couldn’t wait to see them rolled out against the machair, or turquoise waters. Just as she was making a note to get Mhairi to add that to the photo list, she heard a sudden bout of splashing, and then a yelp.

Ivy spun around and took in the scene in front of her. Mhairi was on her side, propped up on one arm to keep her head out of the water, with Ross crouched in front of her. Tomas was on deck, leaning over the rail shouting something about an ankle. Her friend’s face was scrunched, and she could hear whimpering above the sound of the sea. Mixed into the soundscape, she heard Ross.

“Oh, fuck.” He was down by Mhairi’s feet. “Fuck. I mean… Shit. Your ankle?—”

“I fucking know ‘my ankle’! It’s attached to me, I can bloody feel it!”

The tumble in the water had not dampened Mhairi’s spirit quite yet.

“Right. Yeah. It’s just…”

“Oh my god, what?! Is it broken? Can you see the bones?!”

Even from here, Ivy could see her turn pale, and the panic rise in her voice.

“No, it’s—” Ross looked up at Tomas. “You’re going to need to help me here pal.”

“Let me get a board and we’ll splint it before moving her.”

“A splint?! Oh my god, I’m going to die. Or lose my leg. Or—” Her increasing pitch was cut short by Tomas throwing down what was maybe a cutting board.

“Ivy!”

She stood up at her name, having dug through the cooler for ice packs.

“On my way!” She called back, wading back over to the team.

* * *

“Shit, Mhairi.” Ivy gushed, holding an ice pack to her friend’s ankle, now that they were all back on board. It had not been an easy feat, but they had managed to get Mhairi out of the water and onto the boat, with only a few tears. Not all from the patient.

“Don’t want to think about it,” Mhairi gritted out, having become much quieter, and much greener, since getting out of the water.

Ross appeared with a blanket, placing it over the wounded, and baulked when he saw the unnatural angle of the limbs in front of him. He looked up, to find himself on the receiving end of Ivy’s glare. He nodded at her, his eyes flicking back down to the injury again briefly, before plastering on a smile and offering a round of teas.

Tomas reappeared, having retreated to the cabin to call the coastguard. He had had front row seats to the injury, watching an enthusiastic Mhairi hop off the boat deftly. As Ross had congratulated her on a professional descent, she had attempted a dramatic bow. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen the algae covered rock in her landing zone and lost her footing. Ross had caught her before she went down completely, saving her from a matching head injury, but the damage had been done.

Admittedly no one on board was a professional, but whispered curses and widened eyes communicated their shared assessment. The leg was surely broken and dislocated to boot. The unnerving bend in her shin, in their expert opinion, needed seeing to sooner rather than later.

“Ok. So, the coastguard are at least a few hours away.”

He was met with a chorus of What -s and NO -s.

“So,” he continued pointedly, “I think our best bet is to take you back myself.”

“Absolutely, let’s get moving,” Ivy replied.

“Ivy, no—” Mhairi shrilled.

How this was even approaching an argument was beyond her. Maybe she had thrown a few wistful looks at the shore, noting that those blankets really do look good amongst the colours of the island, but that was not a priority anymore. They could have a re-do later in the month. Of course, they were supposed to start marketing the soft launch in a few weeks, but… She’d work it out later.

“Mhairi, forget work. You putting up a review that your foot fell off on the trip will do us no favours.”

Her friend smiled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Ross pale and lean back onto the railing.

“You two could still go.” Tomas offered.

“ What ?”

Both Ivy and Ross spoke at the same time. She looked over and saw he had managed to rally from his drooping against the railings, now standing to attention and looking… horrified.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Ross urged his boss, not even a sideways glance to Ivy.

Tomas rolled his eyes and pressed on. “You were doing the tour anyway, I was just filling in as a guest for this part.”

“But the photos. Mhairi was taking the photos.” Ross looked satisfied with this one. Ivy felt her blood pressure rising as she watched the increasing panic he emitted as the back and forth battled on.

“Fuck off, you’re a professional photographer.”

Ivy didn’t know that. She watched as Ross threw her a brief glance from the corner of his eye before widening his eyes at his boss. Again, that unspoken communication passed between the men that she struggled to interpret herself.

“Ivy, you were the one who came up with the idea to do a soft launch at the end of this season before going full scale next spring. There is no time to push things back,” Mhairi piped up. She’d almost forgotten she was down there, having been transfixed by the rally between the men on board.

“We don’t have to?—”

“No. It’s too good a plan. You’re stuck with it. It’s your own fault for being a marketing genius,” she teased.

Ivy ran her hand through her hair, knowing that they were right. She looked back to Ross who remained in rigid posture, glaring at his captain with a face like thunder. Unfortunately the elder man was immune and clapped his hands together, beaming back with a glint in his eye.

“That settles it then. Ivy and Ross will do the trial, and I’ll be back in four hours to pick you up.”

In a desperate Hail Mary, Ross yelped, “You’ll need the extra hands to get Mhairi off the boat and to the car.”

The crack in his voice, paired with wild eyes, made Ivy wince. She was surprised the man wasn’t offering to chop his own leg off to swap places with Mhairi at this rate.

“I’ve already radioed the lads at the marina. The troops are ready and waiting.” He winked at Mhairi, before smiling, with a brutal satisfaction, at Ross. His forehead may as well have read gotcha in neon lights.

“The food is already over there,” Ivy mumbled, and her three companions all snapped around to look at her. “I just mean— It would be a big favour.”

She offered him a tight-lipped smile, but he never looked at her to see it. He remained fixed on Tomas, arms crossed and jaw tense.

They all prickled in the heavy pause before he spoke.

“Fine.”

He didn’t look at her before stalking off to the cabin.

“Well then.” Tomas cleared his throat, while Ivy continued to watch her reluctant guide stomp about the cabin, mumbling to himself. “Once Mr Sunshine is ready, you pair can crack on. I’ll take Mhairi to the marina and the boys will take her up to Stornoway and get her seen to.”

“Great, thank you,” Ivy edged out. “You’ll be back for us around five then?”

“I’ll refuel and then turn right around.” He patted her arm, offering up a sympathetic smile.

Ross blew past them then, a full rucksack now in tow. He quickly lowered himself off the boat, the small splash being the most sound he had made in the last thirty minutes.

“Coming?” He barked, fiddling with the zip on the camera bag instead of looking at her.

Give her strength , she thought, looking skyward and exhaling.

“Yep,” she tossed out to him, before crouching again to squeeze Mhairi’s hand. “I’ll come see you tonight.”

“Have fun,” her colleague teased, wiggling her eyebrows, enjoying herself far too much for someone whose foot was at ninety degrees to her leg.

“I hate you,” Ivy whined, standing and reluctantly making her way to the edge of the boat.

The offer of help was entirely performative this time. Ross’s hand hung limply in the space between them, and he watched her indignantly as she entered the water.

Before she could get an entire Thank you out, he was already storming toward the beach.

Ivy gave one last wave to the boat and began the trudge behind her begrudging companion.

She could practically feel the steam coming from his ears as he thumped his rucksack to the ground beside the coolers.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to break her own ankle.