Chapter 11
11
When Fraser emerged from his cave to mottled blue twilight, he knew he would have to apologise for brushing Harper off earlier. Only, when he knocked on the cabin door, nobody answered, and the place was still plunged in darkness.
“Must be at the café, eh, Bernard?” he muttered, clipping on Bernard’s tartan leash and getting into his truck. He rubbed his cold hands together before turning on the radio, finding the skin sore and dry as ever.
The rain began to spit across his shoulders as he made the quick walk to the café. He couldn’t wait to find out how Harper had liked her boat trip.
His chest squeezed tight as he realised he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked forward to spending time with someone who wasn’t family.
There was nothing wrong with it. He had no reason to be wary or feel nervous. But he did, still, just like the last time he’d tried to date, or when a girl in the tavern had tried to flirt with him and he’d shut her down without meaning to. He was fairly certain he was allergic to intimacy, and he didn’t fancy finding out the hard way.
When they entered the café, Cam blinked at him, startled.
“Someone’s in a rush,” muttered the older woman at the table closest to the counter, over her frothy cappuccino. Her name was Mrs. Boyle and, since retiring from her teaching job at the local primary school last year, she could often be found here with a plate of shortbread and a puzzle book. Cam routinely complained about how she chewed her ear off for hours on end.
The other non-stop talker, the one Fraser had come here for, was nowhere to be seen.
“Hmm,” Cam agreed, mouth curling with amusement. “I wonder who he might be looking for, Mrs. Boyle.”
Fraser paid no attention and marched up to the counter with Bernard in tow. Mrs. Boyle tutted. “That dog of yours should be outside. People are eating in here, lad.”
“Dog-friendly café, remember, Mrs. Boyle?” Cam asked, her perky tone barely concealing the annoyance beneath.
“Aye, and what’s next? Have them climbing all over the tables?” the older woman groused, then went back to munching her shortbread.
Cam gritted her teeth and leaned in close. “I will pay you to get rid of her.”
“Just be glad she didn’t teach you,” Fraser replied quietly. Only Fraser had experienced the pleasure of being nagged by her as a child. “Have you seen Harper today?”
“Aye, she came in for lunch after her boat trip.” Cam scrutinised her brother. “Honestly, Frase, I hope you’re going to show that woman a good time while she’s here. If I wasn’t married, I certainly would.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll tell Sorcha you said that.”
“Sorcha would say the same thing. She’s fucking hilarious and not to mention ridiculously hot. I know you’re not usually into blondes, but come on .”
“That’s no way to speak about a lady!” Mrs. Boyle chimed in.
“I’ve told her the same thing,” Fraser said, shaking his head at his sister disappointedly. “Lesbians these days, eh? No manners, Mrs. Boyle.”
Cam batted him with a damp tea towel, and continued in a lower voice: “I’m just saying, you have chemistry. Why aren’t you taking her out? Wining and dining her? Why was she on that boat alone today?”
“Well, for starters, I have work,” he replied. She didn’t need to know that he’d taken a rare day off today – she’d only demand to know why, and he was not ready for that conversation. Not even close. “And just because a pretty lass turns up, it doesn’t mean I have to woo her. The world doesn’t just stop when a woman appears.”
Cam scrunched her nose. “‘Woo’? Dear lord. Are you ninety-four?”
His patience was quickly fraying, and he shifted from foot to foot in annoyance. “Just stop, will you? I’m not looking for anything.”
“You never are.”
“And?” He bristled, fists clenching. “Not everybody needs a wife and kids to be happy.”
“Not everyone does,” she agreed. “But you? You love family. You love coddling people. You love being needed. So make her need you, if you catch my drift.” Cam winked, leaving him to scoff.
Sometimes, he didn’t like his sister at all, even if he loved her enough to hypothetically run into a burning building for her. He was glad at least one person in his family was willing to pursue what they wanted so boldly, but it meant he was also subjected to advice he simply didn’t want to follow.
“Do you know where she is or not?” It was dark out, and if she wasn’t here, that probably meant she’d gone into town – on foot, since there were few taxi services around these parts. She could easily get lost, especially if she returned in the dark.
“Not,” Cam confirmed. “But Eiley has been trying to get hold of you today. She said you have dinner plans.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d forgotten about those. In an effort to cheer Eiley up and give her some time away from the kids, he’d promised to take her for a pint and a decent meal at the tavern. She was still getting back on her feet after the break-up, and he wanted to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.
But she would be if he didn’t bloody meet her soon.
“Do you want to come with?” he asked, already pulling out his phone to text Eiley he’d be there ASAP.
Cam shook her head. “I’m knackered. Sorcha promised a takeaway in our pyjamas. Let me know how she is, though. I’ve been rubbish at asking, mostly because I don’t want to upset her.”
“She’s going to be fine. But I’ll let you know.”
“Cheers.”
Fraser made to leave with Bernard, but Cam called him when he reached the door.
“Oh, and Frase?”
He turned around, already knowing what was coming.
It still pissed him off, though, when Cam said in that teasing, singsong voice: “Hope you find Harper.”
A din of clinking glasses and conversation welcomed Fraser as he stepped into Turloch Corner Tavern, hands in his pockets and hair mussed with stress. After he dropped Bernard off at home, he still hadn’t been able to find Harper, and the phone number she’d given him when they’d made their little deal was of no use. She was probably ignoring him, but he’d still at least like to know if she could make it back to the cabin safely.
He was ready to apologise to Eiley, who he soon found sitting on her own in the corner booth, far quieter than most of Graeme’s patrons at this hour. She was the complete opposite of Cam – her hunched posture always made her look as though she was trying to shrink into the furniture, trying not to take up even an atom of space, and Fraser hated it.
He threw her a wave, and then froze when something gold caught his eye. On the other side of the pub, a familiar blonde was just visible behind a gilded hardback.
Harper .
She had come to the pub… to read?
Not just to read. She lowered her book to take a healthy swig of something red. Cider, or vodka cranberry if he’d had to guess, though he clearly didn’t know enough about her to make that sort of assumption, considering he hadn’t even thought to look for her here. He’d tried the bookshop, which was about to close, and had even knocked on Andy’s door to make sure Harper hadn’t been angry enough at him to move out and find emergency accommodation elsewhere.
But here she was. Lost in a book, with no idea he was currently standing like a fool in a stale puddle of beer, watching her.
He signalled a finger to his sister and mouthed, “One minute.” She nodded patiently, her curious gaze following his journey to Harper’s table.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You can’t just disappear like that!” Relief sank through him as he sat on the chair opposite.
She lowered her book, revealing a cool glower. “What?”
“I didn’t know if you even knew the way to town on foot,” he explained, doing his best to keep his composure despite his thrumming heart, “and you certainly shouldn’t be walking back to the cabin in the dark!”
She went back to reading as though he had nothing of interest to say, gaze slipping over the pages nonchalantly. “You told me to ‘feck off’, so I did.”
“Harper…” He shouldn’t have been so short before. He’d just thought she understood his need for peace, or at least would be respectful enough not to interrupt him when he was busy. That had been the deal, after all. He’d more than kept up his end.
“I only meant that I was tied up, not that you should get yourself lost in the woods to prove some kind of point.”
She sighed, closing her book and putting it on the table. It was forest green and titled Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries . “I’m not lost in the woods. I’m in a pub, enjoying my holiday. Contrary to popular belief, I am actually able to get myself from one place to another. It’s signposted from the loch.”
He opened his mouth to say that, although he knew that, she was still new to the area – but she lifted a finger to stop him.
“And I wasn’t trying to prove anything. I’m minding my own business, as I was told to. Maybe you should do the same.”
God, she was infuriating. He gritted his teeth, scraping a hand through his beard. “I know I was rude earlier. I didn’t mean to be. That shed is just…” He would sound ridiculous if he completed that sentence. “I was distracted. That’s all. I didn’t mean to make you feel… however that glare means you’re feeling.”
“I’m not glaring,” she lied, eyes narrowed to slits.
He tried to suppress his amusement. Failed. She was just too fucking adorable, with her sass and that little dent between her brows and the fact that she’d come here, of all places, to read books about fairies. The huge stack ranging from children’s titles to familiar classics was piled next to her on the bench, along with her open notebook, whose pages looked fuller now than they had this morning.
“Look, my sister is waiting for me over there—”
Harper’s gaze followed the jab of his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s not your sister. She doesn’t even have tattoos.”
“My other sister, Little Miss Know-it-all. Come and eat with us. She hasn’t many friends around here, and I’m sure she’d be happy to meet you.”
“I don’t think she’d be happy about you telling strangers that she has no friends.”
He couldn’t help but nudge her shin under the table playfully, relishing in the rosy glow it left on her cheeks. She shoved him back, harder, and he laughed. “I can take you back to the cabin when we’re done.”
“And save me from the big bad forest? You’re my knight in shining armour.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. It must have been made of gasoline, because it lit a flame in his chest, a burning sensation he shouldn’t have liked so much.
“You’re a pain in the neck,” he muttered.
“Yup,” she chirped proudly. “But you don’t have to invite me to a family meal under the pretence that she’s the one with no friends. We both know that’s me. And I don’t need a pity tea. It’s fine.”
“Harper—”
“We agreed I wouldn’t interrupt your work, and I did. That’s on me. I didn’t mean to piss you off,” she said, quieter now. Instead of looking at him, she stared at her drink. “It won’t happen again.”
He didn’t like this side of her. Not at all. He’d rather she keep teasing him than sag further into her seat – just like his sister did – like she didn’t want him to look at her anymore. Like she thought maybe he wanted her to disappear.
He sighed, shifting from his chair to the bench beside her. The wood creaked with his weight as he took her hand – beneath the table so that Eiley wouldn’t see if she was watching. He didn’t need another meddling sister on his case.
“It will happen again, because you’re living in my cabin. And I’ll get short with you, because I forget how to talk like a normal person when I’m lost in work. That’s just how it is. I can promise to try to be less of a dick if you try to give me my privacy when I’m in the shed.”
“That seems like a fair deal. Easier for me to keep to than you, though. Being less of a dick? Are you sure you’re capable of it?” Her eyes glimmered with mirth.
He wanted to kiss away her smugness. Stop her front teeth from sinking so seductively into that bottom lip, until she was gasping and speechless. He supposed that meant he was not yet keeping his promise. He was still as dickish as ever, because he wanted her. Every second spent with her only made him hungrier.
Her eyes fell to his lips as though she could read his thoughts clear as day.
He snapped out of a momentary trance, aware of his sister watching them from across the room. Too aware of the twitch between his legs, a promise that it wasn’t just going to be fantasies making this hard for him, but his body, too. Literally.
“What are you drinking, sunshine?” He stood up, motioning to her glass. “I’ll order you another one.”
“Vodka cranberry. Thanks,” she replied hoarsely, then cleared her throat and crossed her legs. Fuck, did she feel it, too?
He went to the bar and tried – failed – to shake himself out of whatever was making him like this.
The problem was that she couldn’t be shaken out of him. She was already deep under his skin.