Chapter 15 Summer
FIFTEEN
SUMMER
Cameron leads us through the streets to a stone pub with a thatched roof. A painted sign reading “The Dewdrop” swings creakily in the wind, dripping with rain. Cameron opens the door and steps aside. It takes me a second to realise he’s holding it for me. “Oh. Thank you.”
He grunts.
The inside of the Dewdrop is adorably cosy.
The interior is all done in dark-stained wood and crowded with worn-looking round tables that are all busy with locals laughing and drinking.
Several huge orange fires roar in fireplaces around the room, and condensation steams up the windows, making the whole place feel like a little golden-lit bubble of warmth.
A curly-haired woman in dungarees strolls over. “McLeod!” she greets Cameron. “I was hoping to see you. Tell Alec he needs to RSVP for the wedding. Emmy needs the numbers, and he’s ignoring my calls, the prat.”
“He’ll be there,” Cameron mutters, scanning the tables.
“Aye, he’d better be. He’s been a crappy friend recently.” Her eyes fall on me. “Oh, and you brought a girl. Hiya, precious. I’m Isla.”
“Summer,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m staying at Lochview for a bit.”
Isla looks taken aback. “My God! You’re English!”
“Unfortunately,” Cameron says flatly.
Isla pats my hand. “Don’t worry,” she reassures me. “We don’t discriminate against those from less privileged walks of life.”
“Thank you! That’s so kind!”
“We need a table,” Cameron interrupts. “Quietest one you have.”
Isla rolls her eyes. “You never change, do you, Cam? All right, all right. Follow me.”
She starts weaving through the tables. As we make our way through the room, chatter dies down and people stare at me. “Don’t mind them,” Isla says conspiratorially. “They’re just not used to strangers. Especially strangers who look like…” She waves a hand over me. “Well.”
“Well?” I look down at myself. “Well what?”
“Like they fell out of a magazine. Your lipgloss is slightly blinding, and we’re a big anorak town. Besides.” She flashes Cameron a grin. “They’re probably amazed to see McLeod with a woman. Here we are.” She leads us to a worn table next to the fireplace. “A nice private table for two.” She winks.
Cameron ignores her, pulling out a chair. I wait for him to sit in it so I can move past him, but he stays standing.
“Sit,” he orders through gritted teeth.
Oh. He’s pulling it out for me. “What a gentleman!” I say, flopping down.
A muscle tics in his jaw. He sits opposite me. His massive body looks like it barely fits in the carved chair.
Isla claps her hands. “So what can I get you both? The usual for you, Cameron, I suppose? And for you, love?”
I scan the menu. “Um…I’ll have a lemonade. And…”
“Pie,” Cameron says. When I look at him, he just shrugs. “Only good thing they make.”
“He’s right,” Isla admits, putting her hands on her hips. I suddenly notice the sparkle on her finger.
“Oh wow, your ring is gorgeous. You’re getting married?”
“Aye, in June. My fiancée—Emmy—wants to do it by the loch in the summer.”
“Congratulations! That’s so soon.”
She pulls a face. “God. I know. Still don’t have anything to wear yet.”
“You don’t?” I practically shout.
She looks slightly taken aback at my enthusiasm.
“No. It’s a bit of a nightmare, honestly.
Emmy wants to do this whole photoshoot, but I don’t know where to start with all that hair and makeup crap, and I want to work that out before I drop a mint on the outfit.
I suppose I’ll have to hire someone, but I don’t know what I’d even ask for. ”
Oh my God. “Isla.” I lean in, eyes wide. “Please let me help you.”
She blinks. “You what?”
I’m probably coming on too strong. I force myself to tone it down.
“I’m here for the next week. And I love makeovers.
I can help you work out your wedding hair and makeup.
I’ll teach you how to do it on the day, and you won’t have to hire someone.
I can help you pick out your outfit too, if you want? ”
She blinks, glancing at Cameron. “Well…I wouldn’t want to put you out—”
“Isla, look at my eyeliner,” I order.
She obediently examines my eyes. “Aye, it’s very nice.”
“It’s perfectly symmetrical,” I inform her. “Because this is my calling in life. Fashion and beauty is, like, my one talent. Please let me help.”
She laughs. “Well, aye. If you want to, I won’t say no. McLeod can give you my number—”
“She hasn’t eaten,” Cameron cuts in pointedly.
“Right, right. Two pies, coming right up. Thanks, sweetheart.” She bustles off.
And then it’s just me and Cameron. “She seems so nice,” I tell him. “Are you two friends?”
“Went to the village school together,” he mutters and then doesn’t elaborate. There’s a few seconds of awkward silence. The firelight licks the side of his face, highlighting his ruffled hair.
“Um. That’s cool. And this is a really nice pub,” I try.
He grunts, staring at the tabletop.
“Do you come here often?”
Another grunt.
Okay. I sigh. I guess we should address the elephant in the room. “So,” I start, “I…suppose you saw the video? Um. I don’t really have an excuse, but—”
“Are you safe?” he interrupts, his eyes fixed on the table.
“What?”
“Fraser said people are writing shit about you. Online. Did you want to hide up here because they’re threatening you?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Not really.”
His green eyes finally meet mine. They’re fringed with unfairly dark lashes. “Define ‘not really.’”
His gaze is so intense that I think I preferred when he wasn’t looking at me. “Well, I mean, death threats are sort of par for the course in this job. Like, I got ‘you’re fugly, off yourself’ DMs the last time I wore a colour that didn’t suit me. But they’re not serious.”
Something comes over him. He seems to get bigger in his chair, and his hunched shoulders bristle. “You what?” he demands.
Before I can answer, a low voice booms behind me. “Hiya, darlin’!”
I look up. A handsome man in a wet raincoat is staggering up to our table, two pints in his hands. He’s absolutely hammered. He smiles down at me. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one?”
“Oh! Hello. Thank you.” I plaster on a smile as I try to subtly scoot away from him.
“Get to, Hamish,” Cameron snaps.
“Not seen you around these parts before,” Hamish slurs, his glassy eyes still fixed on me. “D’you fancy a bevvy? Why don’t you ditch McLeod and join me and the lads by the bar, eh?”
“Oh, er, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Hamish,” Cameron barks. “Go away. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Hamish leans in closer. I tense as his yeasty breath spreads over my face, fighting to keep my smile intact.
Cameron’s chair pushes out with a grating noise, and he grabs a handful of Hamish’s coat. “Get to fuck,” he says in the other man’s face.
Hamish grins uneasily. “All right! All right. Jesus. Didn’t realise she was yours, mate. Sorry.” He gives me a massive wink and stumbles off, almost falling over a chair as he goes.
Cameron watches him leave and then sits down again, jaw tense.
“Phew. Thanks,” I say.
“Why do you do that?” he demands.
“Do what?” I need to do something with my hands, so I pull out a tube of my Frosted Candy lip gloss and reapply it. I can feel Cameron’s eyes intent on me.
“That…thing you do.” He waves a hand at my face. “You go all…smiley and sparkly.”
It takes me a second to work out what he means. “Why do I smile?” I recap the gloss. Cameron watches.
“It’s not a normal smile. It’s fake.” His expression is black. “You clearly didn’t want Hamish anywhere near you. But you gave him this massive smile. Why?”
“I…” I think about it. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “It’s habit, I guess. I didn’t want to make him mad by being rude.”
Cameron looks at me for a long, long time. “What is wrong with you?” he asks eventually.
“Who can say!” I beam.
Isla thankfully breaks the tension by arriving with the food. My plate is heavy with a flaky pastry pie, mashed potatoes, and veg doused in gravy. Cameron waits for me to take my first bite and then picks up his own fork.
We eat the rest of the meal in total silence.
It should be blazingly awkward, but it’s actually kind of nice. Cameron clearly isn’t much of a talker, which means I don’t have to be bubbly and interesting. I can be quiet. I can’t remember the last time I got to be quiet with another person.
I feel him watching me as I eat. When I reach across to pick up my glass, his hand suddenly shoots out, big fingers wrapping around my wrist. His eyes fix on the faint scar on my forearm. “What happened here?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. I’m suddenly hyperaware of where our skin is touching. I feel a bit dizzy. “I fell off my bike when I was ten. Fractured my wrist, but I didn’t tell anyone, so it ended up healing badly, and I needed surgery.” Why is my heart going so fast?
“You didn’t tell anyone you broke your wrist?” he repeats.
“I didn’t want to annoy my mum. She’s a lawyer. Does a lot of really important abuse cases. I figured she had enough to deal with, so I didn’t want to bother her.” That turned out well. After a few weeks of gritting my teeth through the pain, I stopped being able to move my wrist at all.
Cameron is looking at me, mossy-green eyes flickering in the candlelight. “Your mum didn’t notice her kid’s wrist was broken?”
My cheeks flush. “She was super busy with work.” I pull my hand back. “Anyway…”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but his phone starts to ring.
I watch as he pulls an ancient mobile out of his jeans pocket, squints at it, and stabs to accept the call.
“What?” There’s a pause. “Took her to the Dewdrop.” He looks out of the window.
“We’re good on time.” Another pause, and irritation crosses his face.
“We’re fine, Alec…Christ. Okay.” He ends the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket.
“Everything okay?” I ask, licking gravy off my spoon.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a second and then away. “He’s worried about the storm. Wants us back at the farm.” He stands. “Let’s go.”
Cameron is silent on the dark drive back to the farm. The wind is picking up, the rain getting heavier as it slides down the windows. When we finally park up, my eyes widen as I see the cabin.
As in. I can see the cabin. Someone has set up a path of little lights towards the front porch, and the exterior walls have been fitted with two big golden lanterns.
“Lights,” I exclaim as Cameron kills the engine.
“Thought it might stop you from falling and killing yourself.” He gets out of the car, comes to my side, and opens my door for me.
I undo my seat belt. “You put them up? Where did they come from, though?”
“…The shop,” he says, like I’m a bit thick.
“Like, you went and bought them? Today?”
He just looks at me.
Something clicks in my brain. “Oh my God.” I realise. “You’re nice, aren’t you?”
He scowls, pulling my shopping bags out of the back seat.
I can’t believe I didn’t realise this before. “You’re really nice,” I say, stepping into the mud. He moves his weight, automatically shielding me from the wind and the rain. “You act so grumpy, but you’ve been so nice to me ever since I arrived.”
He let me extend my stay. Brought me breakfast so I didn’t have to cook. Gave me his coat and took me to dinner. Sure, he’s never actually smiled at me…but actions speak louder than words, right? And I know better than anyone that smiles don’t mean anything.
He locks the car door and stomps up towards the cabin.
I follow in his footsteps. The cabin looks a million times better in the soft golden glow—not murdery at all. “Thank you,” I tell him. “That’s so sweet!”
He ignores me, unlocking the door and ushering me inside. “Don’t go out again tonight. The storm will hit soon. Make sure all the windows are latched and the heating’s on high.”
“Will it be bad?”
“So-so.” He frowns. “You’re not scared of storms?”
“Nope. I like them as long as I’m inside. It’s like being in a soothing ASMR video.”
He stares at me. “The things you say make no sense.”
I remember myself. “Oh, your coat.” I shrug out of it and hand it over. He puts it on and jams his hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t move to leave.
The moment stretches between us.
Thunder crackles outside.
“Well. Um. Thanks for tonight,” I say, taking a step back. The heel of my boot catches on a floorboard, and I stumble, losing my balance.
Before I can process what’s happening, Cameron’s heavy weight is pinning me against the wall of the cabin. I squeak. He’s massive, and he’s everywhere. His hands circle my waist.
“Oh,” I gasp.
“Your shoes,” he says in my ear, voice dark with anger, “are all ridiculous.”
I shiver all over. “I like them.”
“You’re not going to like them when you snap your spine,” he growls.
I just quiver and wait for him to let me go.
But he doesn’t. He keeps holding me, his big chest expanding against mine as he breathes.
My heart is beating so fast it’s making my vision flicker.
The stormy air seems charged with thunder.
I’m not sure what’s happening. Why isn’t Cameron stepping back?
“Er. Well—” I start.
Cameron’s eyes drop to my mouth, and my stomach bottoms out. Holy shit. Is he about to kiss me? Surely not, right? But he’s looking at me as if he might. And if he did kiss me…would it make me a terrible person if I let him? Fraser flashes through my mind.
“Your lips,” Cameron mutters, still looking intently at my mouth.
“Yes?” I tip my face up. The movement is basically involuntary. I guess I am a terrible person.
Cameron reaches up slowly. Heat plucks in my belly as he touches his thumb under my bottom lip. He pulls it away and looks at the smear of gloss spangling his thumbprint. “They have glitter on them.” He sounds deeply confused.
“Oh. Yes. It’s my lip gloss. Frosted Candy. It’s great! Super long-wearing, and it smells amazing. I have a discount code. If, um. You want.”
Jesus Christ, just kill me.
Cameron stares at me. The seconds tick by. Thunder grumbles outside, vibrating through our joined bodies. Then—
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters, and kisses me.