Chapter 13
Isla
“Are those twice-baked croissants I see there?”
“Hey, Mac.” Wiping my hands on my apron, I greeted the moustached owner of the nearby pizza stand. He rubbed his hands together, perusing the menu I’d taped to the counter of Brown’s compact food van. “All the croissants are twice baked, gives them a little extra crunch.”
“Chocolate?” He looked hopeful.
I started to reply, but was quickly shut down by Teddy, who stood on a stool to see over the high counter.
At least a decade old, the cramped, paint-chipped van was warm no matter the weather.
Just roomy enough to hold a small fridge, the coffee machine hissing in the corner and one person to comfortably work.
Two at a push. Three made for a very tight squeeze.
“I have pistachio,” Teddy told Mac. “But if you squint real hard, it kind of looks like chocolate.”
“If chocolate were having an identity crisis,” I cut in, apologetically.
I hadn’t expected Teddy to take the game quite so seriously.
She was like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Wolf of Wall Street.
Ruthless. Taking no prisoners. Nothing more important than her next sale as she hollered at passersby on their way to the toilets, everyone a potential customer.
Mac laughed, dark eyes shining. “You’ve got quite the little saleswoman on your hands. Teddy could give Jessica Brown a run for her money. It’s adorable.”
“So adorable,” I replied, half wondering if I’d have to bail her out for money laundering one day. But even with the lack of sleep, I had to admit, I was having fun.
The food market ran monthly from April to October, and from my very first visit, I’d been desperate to have a little stand of my own. Out in the fresh air, my own creations on the counter.
I’d felt a little silly the first time I manned the van, but as I’d laid out endless croissants, tarts and buns I’d spent hours prepping in the sweaty little kitchen at Brown’s, I couldn’t help dreaming that this was my little business.
I felt it even more strongly today, with my own menu instead of just the usual offerings.
Not that I didn’t love working for Jess, because I did; I owed her everything.
But there was an excitement at doing it for yourself.
Wasn’t that the dream of every baker? A small patisserie overlooking the sea, full creative control and customers who were never rude and left promptly at closing time?
After quickly ringing Mac’s croissant and coffee through the till app on my cracked phone, I turned to the small coffee machine, unable to stop my eyes pinging to Alistair’s, where he .
. . hovered didn’t feel like the right word.
Quietly loomed in the van’s only free corner?
His ever-noticeable presence sucking up every scrap of fresh air.
Despite merely observing, he was wearing a Brown’s apron. It felt like a crime for the old, frayed denim to cover the well-fitted jumper I’d spent half the morning ogling.
As I ground the beans, our elbows brushed. “Sorry,” I swallowed, snapping my arm back.
Even with our ground rules, I was failing at this fake act.
I blamed the shower – the entire morning, in fact. It had left me shaken. The revelation that Alistair might secretly be a gentleman. And if so, why was he working so hard to hide it?
After we’d picked up the food van from Jess’s house, he’d driven his Land Rover over the bumpy surface of the village green, easily steering around the smattering of tents and food trucks already setting up for the day.
I had a vision of a reporter shoving a microphone in my face.
What is Alistair Macabe really like, Miss Lang?
The Kinleith Gazette has a right to know.
Well, you see . . . he glared at me, fixed all my problems, forced me to use his shower and then smiled crookedly at my daughter across the kitchen table.
And what a grin it had been. One side slightly higher than the other so a dimple formed in only one cheek.
Teddy was just as struck by him, because his name had been coming out of her mouth ever since.
Ali, why does it take a year to go around the sun?
Ali, who’s the tallest man you’ve ever seen?
Ali, who do you think could run faster, a dog or a rabbit?
Ali, Ali, Ali.
He’d pondered every one of her questions, giving each one a thoughtful response. Like he was in a board meeting and not listening to the inner monologue of a seven-year-old.
He’d spoken all of ten words to me since we stepped out my front door.
Five of which were, “You’re not driving that thing,” when I’d attempted to climb into Daisy’s driver’s seat. Then a few more undiscernible ones as he’d watched me pull Teddy’s old booster seat, which was basically glued to the upholstery, from the back of the car.
Oh, well. The pastries fit better in the back of his Land Rover anyway. I’d still given Daisy a loving pat on the bonnet before we’d driven away.
“How’s the summer treating you, Theodora?” Mac asked teasingly. Knowing she hated the use of her full name.
“Great. Last week I found a frog in the garden, but Mummy wouldn’t let me keep her.”
“Hoptimus Prime had a family to go back to,” I said gently, slipping the lid on the to-go cup.
She’d cried actual tears as we released it. Something told me they were less about the frog than the fact we hadn’t heard from Cameron since he’d cancelled last Saturday’s visit.
“You know Alistair Macabe, right?” I asked, handing over his coffee. “He’s the new doctor up at the surgery,” I threw in . . . because wasn’t this the entire point of this scheme? To get people to like him.
Mac’s gaze turned to the man now at my side, shrewd. “Aye, I do.”
“Nice to meet you,” Alistair said, and I could tell he was trying to be personable, because his voice sounded at least five degrees warmer than usual.
“Mac is a bit of an outlander like me. He’s from the Borders originally,” I explained to Alistair.
If there were ever a person to win over, it was him.
Mac wouldn’t care about village gossip. “I don’t think a slice of pizza has passed Alistair’s lips in at least a decade.
We’ll have to drag him over to Auld Lang Slice at lunchtime. ”
“Mac makes the best pizza in the whole world,” Teddy declared, sitting now.
Mac laughed, showing a gold tooth hidden at the back of his mouth. “I think you lasses are sweet-talking me, and I don’t hate it.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, eyes twinkling with mirth. “This boy treatin’ you right, Isla?”
To his credit, Alistair turned to me, waiting for my answer.
“He’s spending his Saturday morning in a sweaty food van, so I’d say so.”
“Fair enough. Maybe I’ll drop by the surgery some time. My wife’s been nagging me to get my arthritis managed.” Mac raised his coffee in farewell and then headed back to his own van.
Watching Mac cut across the field, Alistair asked, “Auld Lang Slice?”
“Scotland’s best pizza,” I reminded him. “A bold claim but fully justified in my opinion.”
“Luckily I’m a bold guy,” Alistair replied, completely deadpan.
Teddy tried to hold back her laughter, pressing her chubby fingers to her lips. The sight pulled my own laugh free.
He squinted, giving her a mock glower. “You’re saying I’m not a bold guy?”
“More like old guy,” she replied.
I pulled an imaginary pencil from behind my ear and pretended to lick it.
“One sec, let me add that to your growing personality list. Old guy.” I spelled it out.
He mimed trying to peek, and in turn, I mimed showing it to Teddy.
“So far we have curmudgeon.” He merely flicked up a brow.
The sun reflected against his glasses, making his eyes look even more blue.
I glanced back at my invisible notepad, my voice a little rougher than before.
“Freakishly clean, plays with sock puppets. Anything else, Teddy?”
“He knows everything about space.”
Alistair swerved my joke. “How could you possibly know I’m freakishly clean?”
“Your car and your house. No dust, no dirt, no crusty plates stacked up next to the sink.”
“You’ve been in my home once.”
“It was enough. You have your moisturisers alphabetised. All seven of them.”
“You counted.”
Of course I had. “I bet you even have a label maker. You look the type.”
He gave me the silent neck-jerk, What the hell? expression.
“Can I get a label maker?” Teddy asked, straight back to being my serious wee girl. “I could organise my Lego.”
I smoothed her curls back. “Why don’t you borrow Ali’s?”
Her eyes flashed to him, expectantly. He sighed. “Fine, yes, I have a label maker, and yes, you can borrow it.”
We laughed again. That was twice in the past few minutes.
Girl, calm down, no man is that funny.
“Hey, guys.” Heather’s pretty face appeared on the other side of the counter, her short hair tied back into a stubby ponytail.
“How was the dentist?” I asked, looking between the twins excitedly bouncing beside her. Heather usually watched Teddy for me on food market days, or weekend shifts at Brown’s, but this morning they’d been all the way to Portree.
“I got a sticker, and Emily only cried once,” Ava announced, proudly pointing to the toothbrush-shaped sticker on her pink T-shirt. “So Mummy bought us matching hair ribbons.”
“I only cried because you pushed in line. Mummy said I got to go first.” Emily’s hands flew to her hips.
“You know, your mum always cried at the dentist too,” Alistair said, leaning over the counter to ruffle both of their hair, one after the other.
My stupid ovaries flipped at the sight. Why was seeing men playfully interacting with kids such a turn-on?
They were his family; this was bare minimum effort.
Heather stuck her tongue out. “Have I fallen into a parallel universe where my brother willingly attends small-town events?”
Alistair’s hand slipped over my shoulder, cupping the back of my neck, a smirk playing over his lips. “I like Isla enough to brave the horrors of handwashing stations.”