Kindling

Chapter 7

7

Fraser set down Harper’s drink in front of her, a crisp apple cider that she’d taken far too long to choose. He sat across from her with his pint of beer, feeling out of sorts. It was a tad earlier than Turloch Corner Tavern’s landlord, Graeme, usually served alcohol, but he hadn’t bothered to ask questions when they’d trudged in at ten-fifteen.

Besides, they weren’t his first customers. Alan, the town’s silver-haired, red-nosed retired postman, napped at – or rather, on – the bar. He emitted a belch that left Harper scowling, and she scooted her chair away from Alan as though his air was contagious.

“I can’t believe this,” she groused, dipping her chin behind her glass.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Fraser replied, sipping the froth from his own drink. “We’ll find you somewhere.”

He shouldn’t have been drinking at all, not when he was supposed to be working, but since he was his own boss, he’d allowed himself the morning off to help Harper out. Whether she wanted that help or not, he didn’t care. He’d promised her a room, and he hadn’t delivered yet. Fraser never broke his promises.

“You said there aren’t any other places to stay here other than the evil Airbnbs on the other end of the forest, and I’m not checking in at a Premier Inn alongside the motorway. I came here for a change of scenery. Some inspiration.”

Her pink bottom lip jutted out in an endearing pout. He felt bad for her, of course, but he couldn’t deny that she looked gorgeous, with an oversized terracotta jumper tucked into blue jeans rolled at the ankle, as well as a white lacy collar folded over the neckline. He didn’t usually notice clothing, but he couldn’t stop noticing her. She clearly took pride in being fashionable, and it suited her well.

Jesus, Fraser. Pull yourself together. Easier said than done when faced with a woman like her, fiery and bonnie and stubborn. Of course, handling her toy hadn’t helped. How was he supposed to look at the roses in his garden the same, now he knew she used that little plaything to get herself off?

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the bottom of his pint glass. He absolutely could not think of her like that. Could not imagine her moans as she held the vibrating centre to her—

He cleared his throat, choking on his own line of thought. You’re a fucking shitebag , he scolded himself, washing down the heat crawling through him with another swig. Stop it now. It was difficult not to tease her about it some more, just to witness that pretty blush again, but the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

Harper soon sobered as she pulled her phone from her pocket. “I suppose I’d better weigh up my options. How do you spell Loch Whatsit again?”

“I see you did your research before arriving.” He beckoned with his fingers, and she passed over her phone reluctantly. “I know the place better than you.”

Fraser searched for accommodations near Loch Teàrlag, but it was as he’d suspected: most of the lodgings around the forest were rented through Airbnb. He changed the location to Belbarrow. Flockhart’s appeared, but of course, it was closed.

There was a rental about six miles south, which would mean she’d be too far out to visit town without a steep taxi fare, and the view provided nothing but the grey road trailing towards the uneven landscape of the Highlands, where he doubted she would enjoy hiking. There really was nothing. Nothing, at least, that was in line with his morals.

He passed the phone back, mouth downturned. “I think we could do with another hotel out here. The choices are grim.”

“Nothing at all?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

She still scrolled for several more minutes, leg jittering under the table and causing his beer to slosh against his glass. “I can’t afford to waste money on transport just to have the same problem in another town.”

Her shoulders slumped, eyes flickering shut in dismay. Then she suddenly swayed forwards and shot him an intense look that was far too conspiratorial for his liking.

His stomach did that same irritating lurch, as though it was impossible not to react to her. He clenched his teeth. Said, “Whatever idea you have, the answer is no.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“I don’t need to. In the last eighteen hours, you’ve kicked me out of my own cabin, ruined one of my oak trees, and crushed my saplings. I can’t take any more of your particular brand of chaos.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t claim that tree. It was on the other side of your fence. The leaves were going to fall off soon anyway. I did them a favour, helping them down. Please. This could be mutually beneficial.”

More stirring, this time lower than his belly. “I doubt that.”

“You said yourself you only use the cabin for work! I could write by the loch, or here in town, while you hack at wood all day, and then come back in the evenings when you’re gone!”

“No.” The idea of his space not being his for anywhere up to three months pained him, made his skin itch with discomfort. He needed that time, that peace, and just knowing it would be disrupted by a woman who didn’t know the meaning of the word would make every day that much harder.

She clasped her hands together in a plea. “I’ll pay you handsomely. It would be like a second income.”

“No.” Despite his stubborn response, he tilted his head. It would be like a second income. Christmas was coming, and he could use the extra pocket money. His family seemed to be growing constantly, both of his sisters now mothers. He couldn’t remember a winter where they hadn’t struggled. Wouldn’t it be nice to have an easier, more comfortable end to the year?

But at what cost? He loved his cabin. He loved his solitude.

“Fine.” Harper opened what appeared to be a train ticket app, glumly, perhaps searching for a one-way journey back to Manchester.

“Why don’t you just look for a place in Glasgow or Edinburgh?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Why does it have to be here?”

She shrugged. “I needed a radical change from the city.”

“A radical one, eh?”

“Yup.” She avoided his gaze, her flat tone suggesting she didn’t plan to elaborate.

He raised his brow, wondering what, exactly, had spurred such a desperate craving for a new life. A new career. New surroundings. What was she running from, exactly?

“There are other villages in Scotland. You can still have that break if you want it.” He didn’t have the heart to add that most of the other nearby towns were more expensive to stay in as they attracted double the tourists. Belbarrow was usually labelled a “hidden gem”.

But Harper shook her head slowly. “I think I’ve had enough of this break, to be honest. I don’t think I could handle another thing going wrong. Better to just be done with it.” And she sounded like she believed it, detachment turning her voice steely and defeat pushing down her posture.

It didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t like the thought of her leaving like this, especially if it was because of his refusal to help her. He sucked air through his gritted teeth, considering his options. He could let her leave, and then lament his decision for a month. Which would mean saying goodbye now. Turning down a decent amount of money that wouldn’t just help him, but his family.

He’d be another name on a long list of people who’d disappointed her.

It wasn’t in his nature. If it was his sister, his mum, he’d want a stranger to help them out.

Jesus Christ, he was really doing this.

For courage, he glugged down the rest of his beer and wiped the excess from his mouth. “All right. Name your price.”

Her face brightened. “Really?”

He forced a nod, convinced already that he was going to regret it.

Harper’s first condition was unsurprising: Wi-Fi. “I’ll pay for it myself,” she told him as they wandered back to the car at a snail’s pace. Fraser had soon discovered that she was like a magpie. She stopped at shiny things. They’d paused at every shop window, whether it was the pastry displayed in Pam’s Pies on the corner or the charity shop beside the tearoom. He might have been annoyed if it wasn’t so charming. The way her eyes widened, walk slowing as though a little person in her head was pressing down on the brakes. He’d forgotten that this village could be something other than the most familiar thing in his life. To her, it was brand new.

It made him feel a bit brand new, too.

“Well, I’ll probably keep it once you’re gone, so I reckon half each is fair,” he replied, rolling a stone beneath his boot as they halted again. This time, it was the classic leather spines of Thorn & Thistle Books that had caught her eye. He’d noticed her attention home in on it when they drove into town, then again when they’d passed it while heading to the pub.

Her fingers tightened around the straps of her tasselled shoulder bag.

“Want to go inside?” Fraser already had his hand on the brass handle, perhaps slightly eager to keep her riveted for a little while longer. Even if he should have been back at the cabin, ankle-deep in firewood to deliver to a host of businesses and friends.

Harper dipped her head sheepishly. “I don’t want to keep you for any longer.”

He clucked his tongue and opened the door. A tinkling bell welcomed them inside the papery-scented shop. He didn’t often frequent the place himself, only ever getting his paperbacks second-hand from the bookworm of the family, Eiley, but it was a cosy space, and a hit with tourists during the warmer months. “Come on. I know you want to.”

Her lips curled with triumph. She shimmied past him through the narrow entrance, hip grazing his leg in a way that left him stirring with tight heat. He remained gormless as he watched her cross the shop and bend to browse a lower shelf, her jeans stretching over that perfect, dimpled ass, curving like a deliciously ripe peach where it met her thick thighs.

Fuck .

He swallowed, tugging at his hair. The sharp pain brought him back to reality – and to the fact that he was no longer staring at her ass, but her face.

“See something you like, Fraser?” Harper folded her arms smugly.

He pointed just beyond her, at a stack of thrillers piled on a round table. “I’m a Stephen King fan.”

“Hmm. Your favourite must be The Body .” Her eyes glittered with mischief as she slipped between the aisles, and then all he had of her was the sound of her slow footsteps, the smell of her lingering perfume.

Christ almighty. He hadn’t stared at a woman’s body like that since his teens. Had purposely refrained from doing it because he wasn’t in the business of being a leering bastard.

But her voice calling over the shelves broke him out of his shame. “We can go halfsies on the Wi-Fi, if you think that’s fair. I’ll also need a heater for the bedroom.”

He’d forgotten what they were talking about, and he shook his head to dispel his foolish thoughts. “Aye, I can sort that no problem.”

He waved to the man at the front desk. The owner, aptly named Stephen, was a balding man with large square glasses who, judging by the entertained smirtle on his face, had been watching the whole thing.

Fraser blushed and went to search for Harper between the aisles. He found her clutching a heavy fantasy hardback.

“That’ll keep you busy,” he said.

She scanned the blurb on the inside cover. “I need all the inspiration I can get. Apparently, smutty fairies are a thing these days.” She closed the cover with a snap. “So, we need to fix a rate for my rent.”

“How much did you plan to pay for that dingy Airbnb?”

She bristled. “It wasn’t dingy. Your cabin is dingy.”

He reared back. “I can still kick you out if you talk badly about her!”

“Oh, she’s a she?” She slid the book back onto the shelf to give him her full attention.

“Well, I built her myself. That makes her feel sort of alive.”

She regarded him in surprise, blinking slowly. “You built the whole cabin, all on your own?”

He shrugged, suddenly modest. “Aye. It was a lot of trial and error, but I managed.”

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive.”

His chest swelled with pride, a reaction he’d never experienced when complimented by his family. “Cheers.”

“Now I feel like I should be paying double what I expected.”

He choked on a laugh. “I think half of your Airbnb fee will suffice. You won’t be getting a hot shower or a decent lie-in while you’re there, after all. But I have some of my own terms and conditions.”

She planted her feet. “I’m listening.”

“No messing with my workspace. No touching my tools, or trampling on things that aren’t yours. No rooting through my cabinets like you were this morning. And respect the wildlife. We take care of the forest here.”

“And I was so looking forward to wielding your axe while hunting foxes.”

“Funny.” She’d be deadly brandishing any of his things. A dangerous woman with a razor-sharp tool... the image both terrified him and turned him on.

“Do you really take care of the forest, though?” Harper enquired lightly. “The way you chop into those trees… That’s like saying a butcher takes care of animals.”

He fought not to take offence. “I always plant a new tree to replace the old, and I never waste the timber. I didn’t realise I had to run my work by you, Miss Sustainability.”

“I was only saying.” She lifted a shoulder, clearly satisfied – perhaps even surprised – by his answer.

“Oh, and one more house rule.” He snapped his fingers. “No going in the shed!”

He must have sounded too forceful, because she frowned. “What’s in the shed?”

“More tools,” he lied.

She cast him a doubtful look but said no more. “Okay. I accept those terms.”

“Good.” He held out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

She did, her palm warm and soft, grip just tight enough to make his heart pound against his ribs. He would have to get these feelings in check if he was going to be running into her every day.

He pulled away and they continued perusing the aisles, Harper running her finger across the spines. “So, what will you spend the extra cash on? A new boiler, I hope.”

He deliberated the possibilities. The extra money would do wonders for his family. Plus, there were all sorts of problems that needed fixing in town. The cost of living was affecting everyone, and it would only get worse once winter hit.

“I’ll look into the boiler,” he decided. “I could do without you catching hypothermia.”

“Me too. Though after the month I’ve had, it would be the icing on the cake.” She sighed, flicking through another book. Again, he wanted to ask what she meant, but her expression shuttered as though she already regretted sharing so much.

They’d reached the children’s section, which struck him as odd, but maybe she had children in her family, too. He crouched to peer at the lower shelves, looking for something his oldest nephew, Brook, would like for his upcoming sixth birthday. He spotted an illustrated book about an astronaut that seemed perfect.

Meanwhile, Harper stuck to young adult and middle-grade titles, opting for one that looked Medieval-inspired, featuring a sword and a dragon on the cover.

“I’ve changed my mind about the fairy romance. I’ll be back.” She dashed off, leaving him at the front of the shop alone. Fraser picked up another book about a little girl and an alien travelling through the solar system together for good measure, and then put them on the counter.

“Morning, Stephen.”

“Nice t’see ye, Fraser.” Stephen’s accent was so thick that even Fraser struggled to understand it sometimes. He typed in the prices of the two books at the till manually, then glanced suspiciously in Harper’s direction. “New lady friend, eh?”

Fraser shook his head, snorting. “Not like that. She’s staying in my cabin.”

“Aye, I bet she is.” He winked, placing the books in a paper bag. “Where’d you find her?”

Fraser shifted on his feet. He didn’t like the way Stephen spoke about her as though she was a trinket he’d collected. Maybe that was why Stephen was a perpetual bachelor who resorted to flirting with anybody he could find in the tavern each weekend. “In the woods, actually. Long story.”

“One that we probably shouldn’t tell people.” Harper reappeared, bumping her hip against him as she placed a tall pile of books on the counter. When Fraser whistled at the tower of pages, she shrugged. “I got carried away.”

“A common occurrence, it seems.”

Harper rolled her eyes at him, then shifted her gaze to the nook by the window. Shelves filled the walls, and a reading space had been set up with a homely green couch for adults and a colourful kids’ chair with giant crayons for legs. “How’s the Wi-Fi in here? Would I ever be able to come in here to work?” she asked Stephen.

“Oh, aye, that’s no problem with me,” Stephen said. “One of those freelancers, are you?”

“You could say that.” Harper rocked on her heels as though uncomfortable with her own version of the truth. She paid for her mountain of books, and Fraser swapped bags with her to shoulder the heavier stack before she could protest.

She pursed her lips, then quietly said, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Bernard pulled Fraser impatiently outside and immediately cocked his leg on a lamppost, leaving them to simmer in an awkward silence. Their first one, he realised, since he’d met her.

“Did he think we were a couple?” Harper questioned finally.

Fraser chuckled. “Aye, I think so. He’s harmless, but he’s a nosy parker. I once visited with my mum and he thought we were together. Then when I set him right, he started hitting on her in front of me.”

“Yikes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I won’t be working in there much, then.”

“He’ll leave you be if you ask him.”

“Fraser…” Harper gnawed at her lip hesitantly.

“Aye?”

She sighed. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out. I know it’s a pain for you, but I appreciate it.”

He softened, unsure how to reply. Was it so surprising that somebody would support her in such a situation?

What company did she usually keep?

“It’s no bother, Harper,” he replied. “Well, it’s a wee bit of a bother, but I’m actually doing it for the literature of tomorrow. Who am I to stand in the way of an author writing their first book? I hope I’ll be mentioned in the acknowledgements.”

She burst into laughter and pulled out her phone. “We’ll see. Okay, let me take some pictures while I have data, and then we can head back.”

Fraser left her to it. He could put up with plenty, but an addiction to social media was a little too much for a man who didn’t even have Facebook.