Chapter 44 Summer
FORTY-FOUR
SUMMER
The next ten days pass like a dream.
Now that I’m not working, the four of us fall into a new routine. Every morning, I wake up in bed with Fraser. We hole up in the quilts for a bit, then Fraser drags me to the loch for a swim. Even though I’m still more of a hot-tub girl, I’m learning to appreciate wild swimming.
I especially appreciate how thorough Fraser is when he dries me off on the bank after. Poor Bessie the cow has seen some things.
When we get back, Cameron’s got breakfast ready, and we all eat together. Then I spend the rest of the morning helping out on the farm.
Turns out, I like farm chores. They’re tiring, but they’re also a lot easier than influencing, in a way. I’m not anxious about how I look or whether I’m saying the wrong thing when I’m feeding chickens or harvesting veg. I work under the open sky, getting my hands dirty, and it feels amazing.
And it’s an added bonus that I’m doing my chores with men who will not stop touching me.
When Alec shows me how to milk the farm’s dairy cow, he sits me on his lap for the demonstration.
When I help Fraser clear out the hay loft, he insists on taking breaks every hour that involve his head under my skirt.
I decide to go along with this, because I’m trying to prioritise a work-rest balance.
After lunch, I spend the afternoons sewing.
I am totally fixated on the Singer. The day after he set it up, Alec took me into a nearby town, and I stocked up on thread bobbins and did another massive secondhand clothing haul.
We moved the Singer to the guest room, and I got to work altering clothes.
I’m rusty. The first shirt I make from an old dress is wonky, with sleeves so puffy they make me look like an American footballer.
But I persevere, and by the end of the week, I’m left with a heap of finished projects.
I make a velvet jacket out of a rose-coloured dressing gown.
I cut a pair of pink trousers into fifties-style tight capris, adding belt loops and cuffs.
I transform lilac bedsheets into a flowy peasant top.
I’m obsessed. For the first time in years, I’m making things with my hands. I haven’t sewn this much since I was in uni, when my flatmate and I would make our own outfits for the clubs and show up to class sleep-deprived and covered in sequins.
When I lock in, I’m usually hunched over the sewing machine for hours. Time slips by without me noticing. Cameron calls it me “going to Summerland.” He’s usually the one who comes and drags me to the dining room for dinner. All four of us eat and drink together, talking about our days.
And then we go to bed.
The sex is unbelievable. I can’t get enough of it.
Having three men sharing you, being utterly focused on getting you off, is overwhelming in the best possible way.
The men take me in every position imaginable.
In the bed. On the kitchen table. In the shower.
Sometimes they share me, and sometimes it’s just one of them touching me while the other two watch.
One night, I take turns sucking them off, going back and forth, teasing them with my mouth and hands until Alec finally loses control and throws me onto the bed. The men each take me slowly, one at a time. I wake up the next morning with come leaking down my thighs.
A part of me thinks I shouldn’t enjoy being passed around like this. But I do. In fact, after all the hate I’ve gotten online, it feels like a relief to be surrounded by men who genuinely like me. The more they cherish me and lavish me with attention, the more I feel myself relaxing.
And it’s not just me. Alec seems less stressed.
He takes time off in the evenings now, and he takes breaks to eat with the rest of us.
The tension that was constantly simmering between him and Cameron has cooled, and Fraser has stopped looking at the two of them like a bomb might be about to go off. It’s all just…easy.
Which makes no sense. Logically, a four-way should be complicated, but we work so well as a unit. As the days melt into one another, I feel myself softening. I worry less about the viral video. I feel like I can take a full breath for the first time in years.
It’s almost like I belong here.
On the Friday evening, almost two weeks into my social media break, I’m curled up on the sofa with Crumpet asleep on my lap.
She’s gained a lot of weight and is honestly a bit too heavy to be curled up on me, but I let her anyway.
Alec is sitting at my side, the golden light of the fire highlighting his face as he taps at his laptop.
I watch him as he works. He’s been at this for almost four hours now, doing paperwork without a break. I remember how intimidating I found his hard focus when I first came to the farm. After learning about how he was raised, it all makes a lot more sense.
He was built to be like this. His father taught him as a child that his one job was to keep Lochview running, at the expense of everything else. No wonder he’s such a workaholic. He never had a choice.
The front door slams open, and I jump. Alec lays a soothing hand on my thigh, not looking up as Fraser slopes into the farmhouse with Scout trotting at his heels.
“Evening, kids!” he calls, hanging up his coat. “We finished early at the market.” He crosses over to the sofa and drapes something soft across my face. “Saw this on one of the stalls. Thought it looked like a bit of you.” He flops down at my side.
It’s a spool of pink silk ribbon. “Thank you! I love working with ribbon.”
Scout sits at Alec’s feet and stares at Crumpet watchfully.
She blinks back at him from my lap. The sheepdog can’t seem to work out what he’s meant to do about her.
At first, he tried herding her outside. When Alec kept stopping him, he then decided he must be Crumpet’s personal bodyguard. It’s very cute.
“Anyone down to come to the Dewdrop?” Fraser offers, gathering me against his side. “Cam’s up for it. I think we could all use a night out.” He gives Alec an arch look. “You should come. Isla misses you.”
“I have too much to do,” Alec murmurs, still typing. “You go without me.”
Fraser sighs heavily. “Aye, I figured as much.” He smiles at me. “What do you say, sunshine? Fancy going on a wee double date?”
Alec stops typing.
I sit up. “Really?”
“Aye, why not? Let’s all share a milkshake with three straws and scandalise some of the oldies.”
“I’d love to.” I set Crumpet on the floor, and she scampers off.
Scout immediately follows her protectively.
“And you said Isla will be there? Do you think I should bring makeup for her?” I’ve been meaning to arrange a time to go over her wedding makeup, but I’ve been too busy sewing and getting absolutely railed.
“Aye, why not? She’s behind the bar on Fridays, but I’m sure you can pin her down.”
I’m already planning what I’ll do with her. I forced her to text me some of the wedding suits she’s thinking of buying. She’s clearly into an edgier, more androgynous look, which I can totally work with. “She’s olive-toned, isn’t she? Would you say she has combination skin?”
“Oh, aye,” Fraser agrees, stroking a hand over my leg. “I’ve always said that.”
“I’ll just bring everything I have,” I say. “I got sent a ton of makeup in the PR delivery. I want her to be able to pick whatever she wants.” I turn to Alec. “Are you sure you can’t come? I’ll miss you.”
Alec slowly closes the lid of his laptop. “Fine,” he declares.
Fraser’s eyebrows rise. “Wait. Really?”
“Why not? It’s a Friday.”
“You literally never come out with us, mate. There are rumours in the village that one of the sheep developed a taste for human flesh and ate you, and we’re covering it up.”
“Things change,” Alec says, his eyes on me.
Excitement flushes me. I bounce up. “Okay, let me just get ready.”
I dash out of the lounge and back to the guest room to pull my massive case out from under the bed.
A tangle of beige and brown and black stares back at me, and I deflate slightly.
I have plenty of going-out clothes, but they’re all so…
boring. I pick up a bodycon dress and pull a face at it.
Even though it’s trendy enough to wear at any London bar, it doesn’t feel right for up here.
I glance across the room at the Singer. Draped across it is my latest finished project. It’s my favourite thing I’ve made yet—a white lace dress. I wander over and pick it up, rubbing the fabric between my fingers.
It took me three days to finish. I unpicked all of the lace from the ripped wedding dress I bought in Dalbrae, then sewed it onto a silk slip I whipped up from some bedding.
I used most of the lace to craft long, dramatic bell sleeves which show off the gorgeously spun gauze.
The end result is a shimmery confection that toes the line between cute and scandalous.
It looks innocent enough on top, but it barely covers my bum.
Lulu would never let me wear it to an influencer event. She’d say it’s too much. And I guess it is. It’s beautiful, but in a way which is far too unique and dramatic to ever be trendy.
But no one up here knows me. I can be as much as I like. I chew my lip, thinking.
Forty minutes later, I trip back to the lounge, hauling a massive makeup bag. The three men are already waiting, jackets and shoes on.
“What’s taking so long?” Cameron wonders. “Is she okay? She’s not usually quiet this long. She’s probably set something else on fire.”
“You can’t rush perfection, mate,” Fraser insists.
“Sorry,” I say, lugging the bag onto my shoulder. “It took me a while to pack everything. Shall we go?”
None of the men respond. All three of them are staring at me. Fraser’s mouth is open, and Cameron’s face is going red.
Alec breaks the silence. “Summer—”
“Not a word,” Fraser interrupts.
I look down at my dress. “Oh, do you like it? I’m so happy with how it turned out.
” I do a little twirl. I’ve styled the dress with strappy heels and wrapped Fraser’s ribbon around my throat.
I even did a sparkly eyeshadow look, dipping into the forbidden shimmer shades in my palettes.
I haven’t worn glitter in forever. I feel pretty and sparkly and very, very me.
Cameron looks aghast. “You can’t wear that to the pub,” he bursts out.
Oh. “I can’t? Why?”
“You’ll kill someone. There’ll be old men there. Harry’s on a pacemaker!”
I blink. “Well, he should be fine then, shouldn’t he?”
Fraser wraps an arm around me. “Ignore them, Summer. They’re just a bit confused, on account of the fact you look like every wet dream they’ve ever had combined.”
“Oh. Yay!”
“She just said yay,” Cameron says to Alec incredulously. “Out loud.”
Alec says nothing. I can feel his eyes on my skin.
Fraser leads me to the door, shaking his head. “All right, coat on. Christ. Can’t believe you made this yourself. You’re amazing.”
I beam at him.
Cameron pulls his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s just get this over with,” he mutters.