Chapter 5
5
“You didn’t tell me we’d be walking,” Harper grumbled, once again trying to avoid boggy patches along the woodland footpath. Next time she looked for a place to rent, it would be a seaside cottage instead. She was sick of the sight of trees.
“Didn’t I?” Fraser quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching as he slowed his pace to match hers. Clearly, he was enjoying this. “Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed I’d chauffeur you about.”
“You mean, like a gentleman would?”
“Those services cost extra.” He shrugged, hopping over a particularly large puddle without a problem. Harper halted before it. Her legs weren’t long enough to make it across without ruining her boots for good. Bernard passed seamlessly as though showing off, then barked encouragingly for her to follow.
She tested several paths forwards: either side of the puddle, but both were too muddy; around the footpath entirely, but the woods were uneven here, so she’d risk a sprained ankle.
“You’re making this look like really hard work,” Fraser commented, then held his hand out.
Harper stared at it for a moment. It was hard to believe he was still a stranger when she’d already worn his clothes, used his shower, and teetered over his fence, but easy when she saw the unfamiliar lines of his palm, the tattoos around his wrist creeping up into his sleeve.
She was overthinking it. But she’d watched him chop wood, got turned on, and now her stomach was all… aflutter. Like butterflies. Traitorous, confused butterflies.
“I don’t mean to rush you, but I have somewhere I need to be in an hour,” he prodded.
Of course. She’d disrupted his life. He was probably already exhausted by her. Probably nowhere near returning the attraction she felt for him, but certainly able to requite her annoyance. She slapped her hand into his, finding it warm and rough and steadfast as she leapt clumsily over the puddle.
“Thanks.” She pulled her hand away quickly, sticking it in the pocket of the raincoat she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to use. Her poor shacket was soaking in Fraser’s sink. To distract herself, she checked her phone again. One bar of signal had erected itself like a tiny tower in the corner of her screen. Only two more, and she might be able to call her mum.
“So, what brings you to the Highlands? No offence, but you don’t seem very outdoorsy,” he said as she slipped it back into her pocket. A hint of judgement shimmered in his voice, or maybe that was just her paranoia. Either way, she narrowed her eyes to slits, taking offence, even if it was true.
She was glad when a cobbled building poked through the trees in front of her. Behind it, a band of silver water yawned out, reflecting the drab, darkening October sky. If the Airbnb listing had been at all accurate, it must have been Loch Teàrlag. If only they’d signposted it better, she could have come here first, rather than to a stranger’s cabin.
She paused when she found that there was a signpost: a wooden one, planted squarely in her eyeline, with an arrow pointing ahead for Loch Teàrlag and the Raindrop Café. Had there been more she’d missed?
It was possible. She’d spent quite a long time with her head down, waiting for her phone signal to magically appear.
“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re too outdoorsy?” she retorted finally.
Again, that smirk quivered on the edge of his mouth. “Did it take you all that time to come up with that?” He whistled through his teeth. “Aren’t you witty?”
She batted his insult away with her hand, though inside, it stung. She wasn’t witty, or outdoorsy, or adventurous. She was… tired . Lost. She didn’t have the energy to match his taunt this time.
“Not answering the question, then?”
“I’m not here to be outdoorsy,” she declared finally. “I’m here to do something for myself for a change.”
“Oh, aye? Like what?” His mocking tone cleared like overhead clouds, giving way to beaming curiosity that only made her more uncomfortable. What was worse? The fa?ade she was currently attempting, or the truth?
“To write,” she said quietly.
Fraser slipped his hands into his pockets. “You’re not one of those holiday house critics, are you?”
“Worried I’ll give you a one-star rating?”
He chuckled, his arm brushing against hers and sending a bolt of electricity through her body. It made her entire being feel foreign, not hers. Detached from her busy brain. “Worried for my friend and their B&B, actually. If you ever make it there.”
At least he was the owner’s friend. That surely meant she would be able to secure a room first thing tomorrow. “Well, you don’t have to. I’m not a critic. Officially, at least. I could easily critique your hospitality.”
“I could easily let you find somewhere else to stay tonight, but I’m not that cruel.”
They reached the café at last. The windows were wide, allowing patrons to take in the large loch, and golden fairy lights glowed inside. Finally, some sign of modern civilisation – although there weren’t enough people around to make it feel quite real. A waitress was cleaning down the outdoor tables, but that was the only movement save for the gentle ripple of the water.
“They’re open until half-six, and from eight in the morning, so you’ll manage here. Think you can find your way back?”
He was just… leaving her here now?
Harper bit her chapped bottom lip and nodded without conviction. “Sure.”
She wouldn’t beg him to stay. He’d done enough for her already. On the bright side, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She had contact with the real world again.
She waited for him to leave, but he hovered, checking his watch once more. “I can stay a little longer, but I need to head back to the cabin in twenty at the latest.”
“I can manage without you. I found my way through the woods, didn’t I?” Barely .
“It’s fine. I should grab something to eat before I head off anyway. Come on.”
He tipped his head, holding the door open and waiting for her to enter. The warmth inside was like stepping into a hot bubble bath after a long day. The tension seeped from her bones all at once as the smell of roasted coffee beans soothed her. Perhaps she would return here to write. With the view of the loch, it might inspire her stories.
A short grey-haired woman greeted them at the counter. “Hello, stranger. You’ve finally been coaxed out of that cabin, eh?”
Fraser laughed politely. “Aye, something like that.” When his gaze met Harper’s, her knees buckled. She hadn’t been charming enough to make him smile like that, and only now did she see the deep dimple softening his chiselled cheek. “Good to see you, too, Alice.”
“What can I get the two of you?” She tightened the bow on her apron then turned her attention to Harper.
So did Fraser, allowing her to order first.
After perusing the menu, she said, “I’ll take the halloumi burger and chips, please. And a tea.”
Alice jotted it down, then waited for Fraser to add, “The same is fine. Cheers.”
Harper was quick to nudge Fraser out of the way to pay on her card. “To say thanks.”
“That’s not necessary. I can pay.” But it was too late. The transaction went through with a satisfied beep of the machine. Alice raised an intrigued brow at both of them. Harper averted her gaze, certain she knew what this looked like, and quickly took a few napkins to a table by the window before either of them could say more.
“You’re making me look ungentlemanly,” Fraser commented, slipping into the seat opposite.
“You can take it off my total bill tomorrow if it makes you feel emasculated.” She stretched out her tired legs, accidentally nudging his shin. Quickly, she pulled away, pretending to be interested in the view outside the window. It was pretty: the peaceful loch was a gentle, much-needed reminder of why she’d come here in the first place.
He rolled his eyes, then leaned forwards to brace his elbows on the table. His piercing blue gaze was inescapable when he was this close. “Harper, I wasn’t going to charge you for one night.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for starters, my cabin is not exactly the Ritz. And you needed the favour.”
“I’m capable of looking after myself!” she blurted, blood pulsing in her ears. It wasn’t loud enough to drown out the memory of Kenzie’s patronising voice. I need someone I don’t have to worry about all the time. Did everybody see her that way? Even strangers?
The fact her phone was currently pinging with a stream of antsy messages from Mum said yes. Harper huffed and texted that she’d arrived safely and would call her later, then returned to glowering at him.
He held his hands aloft as though in surrender. “I didn’t say you weren’t! I’m saying what that lodge owner did to you was shite, and I wouldn’t have left you to roam the bloody woods all night. I’m not going to take money from you when you’ve been treated like that.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She didn’t know if it was fury at her situation or just the shock of his kindness that caused it, but she didn’t like it either way. She felt so… out of control at the moment. So confused about how she would ever measure up to the person Kenzie had wanted her to be. Maybe she just wasn’t built to be confident and put-together. Maybe she wasn’t built to be wanted at all.
“I’m paying you for the stay,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “Thank you for the kindness, but I refuse it.”
“All right. If that’s what you want.” He sat back and folded his arms, the chair creaking beneath him. “So, you didn’t answer my earlier question. What are you going to write?”
She hadn’t ever admitted it aloud, and she was worried it would sound silly. Fidgeting with the corner of a napkin, she answered, “A book.”
Surprise flashed across his features. “What sort of book?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I just needed to try something different.”
“So you’re not some fancy author I’ve embarrassed myself in front of by not recognising, then?”
“Not yet. Maybe one day.”
Distracted, she snapped a photograph of the view, hoping it would be enough to convince her followers that the holiday she’d hyped up for weeks was going swimmingly. She sent it to her mum immediately, to set her mind at ease before she truly began to panic.
Fraser was yet again watching her as though she was an alien, so she opened Instagram to check her direct messages. Hours without social media had made her feel disconnected from the world – and from her life back in Manchester. From Kenzie. She’d been posting more regularly than usual since the breakup, afraid somehow that she might be forgotten otherwise.
“What did you do before?” he asked as their drinks were set down in front of them.
Harper thanked Alice, then chose to answer the question as vaguely as she could to avoid the subject of her redundancy. “I’m in marketing.”
“Ah, interesting. In books, or something else?”
“For a company that sells household appliances and furniture. Nothing very exciting.” She swiftly changed the topic. “What about you? What do you have to rush out for soon?”
He sipped his tea, then licked his lips. “Oh, just a parent-teacher thing at school.”
Her eyes widened involuntarily. “You’re a dad?”
Oh, god. What if he had a partner at home, and she’d been all jittery and flustered around him? She’d walked past him wearing nothing but a towel! She sank lower in her chair.
“Oh, no.” He laughed as though the idea was funny. “It’s for my nephew. My sister doesn’t want to go alone, so I said I’d keep her company.”
Harper released a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding.
And then she realised that this, somehow, was even worse. He wasn’t just attractive and kind. He was a good uncle, and a good brother. How was she supposed to not like him?
“That’s really nice,” she said.
“You seem surprised,” he commented wryly.
“I suppose I can’t work you out. You refuse to stop helping me, but have complained about it the whole time.”
“Yeah, well, you crushed my saplings and fell onto my land uninvited. I had a right to be a wee bit ticked off.”
She had no response to that, mostly because he was right. Instead, she snapped a photograph of her tea.
“Why are you doing that?” he asked, forehead lining with confusion.
“To post it on Instagram while I have data.”
“Does Instagram care that much about your drink?”
And just like that, not liking him became easy again. “There’s nothing wrong with having an online presence. We don’t all hide out in the woods with no Wi-Fi.”
“Well, that’s the issue. Nobody comes to take in the sights here anymore. The tourists don’t come and buy from local businesses or walk around the loch. They take their pictures to make their friends jealous then go and spend a fortune on lodges like the one you booked, built by out-of-towners who are sacrificing woodland habitats so they can jet off to Malaga every year without having to work for their customers.”
“You sound like my grandad,” she said flatly.
“Your grandad must be a smart man.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Just to spite him, Harper took a picture of her burger, too, then dug in happily. She was finally enjoying her trip, and she wanted everyone to know it.