13
13
Callum
Heather: Free for dinner tonight?
The girls miss you.
Callum: Can’t.
I’m helping at Ivy House.
Heather: I knew June would come around.
Heather: Be nice to her!
She doesn’t appreciate your brand of humour.
Callum: My brand of humour?
Mal: That’s our baby sister’s nice way of saying, “you aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
Heather: It’s an acquired taste.
Mal: Like Irish whisky.
Callum: Remind me again why I begged Mum and Dad for more siblings?
Alistair: What happened at Ivy House?
An hour later and feeling every one of my thirty-nine years, I accepted I needed Juniper’s help.
Trudging to the stairs with all the energy of a North Pole elf come Christmas Eve.
The changes from my last visit told me Juniper had been putting in as many hours as me.
All the furniture had been cleared and the old tartan wallpaper stripped.
Between that and running the inn, when did she find time to sleep?
“Nothing you can do unless she asks for help,” I reminded myself, checking my watch as I hit the small landing between floors.
Seven thirty. More than enough time to finish here, check in with Mum and make it home for a quick dinner before bed.
I might even get that elusive eight hours.
I found Juniper exactly where I left her.
Phone pressed to her ear, bare toes just visible where she’d kicked her heels aside – damn those elegant little toes .
Feet usually freaked me out, but Juniper’s were just as perfect as the rest of her.
Her tongue traced along her lower lip as she listened to the person on the line, a nervous gesture she made often but couldn’t have been aware of because she’d have found a way to master it.
“ Yes , I’m prepared for the food delivery – because it’s the same day every week—”A muffle cut her off.
“You’re on holiday, why are you logging into the booking system at all?”
Her mum, I realised, pausing curiously on the bottom step.
“Well don’t – everything is fine, go to the beach and have a cocktail or something. Bye , Fiona – aye , bye!”
The heels of her hands pressed into her eyelids, and I cleared my throat.
“Who was that?”
“ Shit … how the hell do you do that?”
“I snuck out a lot as a teenager. You become an expert after facing Jim Macabe’s wrath a time or two.” Her lips pinched like the thought didn’t please her.
“Very different from your dad, I bet?”
Her head tilted.
She didn’t smile but her features softened, eyes brightening like two pools of melted chocolate.
Folk in the village described Juniper as cold, it made me wonder if they ever paused long enough to look her in the eyes.
They were the furthest thing from cold I’d ever encountered.
“You could say that. Alexander was more of a ‘my kid is safer if I know where she is’ kind of parent. Most likely why I couldn’t stay away from trouble.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something flirtatious, like, What kind of trouble?
, but I’d heard all about the excessive partying of her younger years.
I wouldn’t judge her for it, I’d hardly been a saint.
“He sounds like a smart man.”
“He was.” Her throat bobbed and I knew it was time to change the subject.
I nodded to the stairs.
“I could use an extra pair of hands if you have a minute?”
Her brows flew up.
“My wrench skills?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Squeeze it tight.”
“Here?”
“Perfect – wait, a little tighter … there.” I pushed her hands an inch higher, increasing the pressure.
“Quit manhandling me unless you want my hands around your throat.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart.” I moved her hand another inch then stepped back, inspecting the position of the toilet bowl she held in place.
Too bad I only saw Juniper.
On her hands and knees, that tight skirt stretched over her small but perfectly formed arse.
Christ , I started to bite into my fist, realised I was acting like a fucking creep, and forced my brain back to the task at hand, ensuring the base lined up with the clamps I’d drilled into the floor.
Slightly off centre, I noted.
Sinking to my knees in the slight space between her calves, I curled my body over hers – the barest gap separating my chest from her back – and slid the heavy porcelain an inch to the left.
She inhaled sharply, making contact.
“This all right?” My rough question stirred the hair at her temples.
“So long as you don’t move that hand.”
I glanced down at the hand in question.
It almost grazed her breast. “ Fuck, sorry.”
“Do you often find yourself in these kinds of positions while plumbing?”
“Occasionally. Jealous?”
She scoffed but I didn’t miss the flex of her fingers around the bowl.
Picking up the drill, I had little choice but to press fully against her, head curving over her shoulder to line up the large screws perfectly.
Her hair tickled my cheek, shoulder curling flawlessly inside mine, like we’d been made just for this.
I didn’t breathe. Keeping my hips a healthy distance away, I counted to ten, welcoming the whir of the drill that cut through the daze.
“When did you become interested in plumbing?” she asked when it quieted.
“I wouldn’t call it an interest in plumbing, exactly. I just like being self-sufficient. When I first bought the practice, the building needed fully renovating. It would have pushed me so far into the red, I’d probably still be clearing the debt now. Why pay someone when I could learn to do it myself?”
“You did it all?”
“Not everything, but I became pretty handy with a sledgehammer – what?” I pressed, noting her smile.
She shrugged. “Nothing, I just didn’t realise you were so … guyish .”
“Guyish?”
“You know, rough and ready, eats nothing but bran flakes for breakfast, starts a fire with two sticks and some dirt, kind of guy.” She was fucking with me.
Ducking beneath her arm so I wouldn’t be tempted to deliver a swift slap to that arse, I spread the sealant, holding it in place as it dried.
“You’re way off with the bran flakes.”
“And the rest?” The side of her breast grazed my cheek.
I squeezed my eyes closed, any playfulness fleeing as I ground out, “I’m rough when the mood strikes.”
The jovial mood snapped, and we worked in silence after that, her holding the pieces with a steady grip as I bolted the cistern in place and sealed it to the wall.
“That’s it?” she asked minutes later, smoothing out the creases in her skirt as she stood.
“That’s it.” I wiped off my dusty hands, handing the cloth over when she grimaced at the state of her own.
“Do you have a phobia of dirt?” I blurted like an untactful arsehole.
I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it before, but her reaction this morning had been more than simple disgust at animal excrement.
“It isn’t the dirt,” she replied, gaze never straying from her task.
Words clipped enough to issue a quit while you’re ahead warning.
Push or retreat.
Push or retreat.
My decision flipped like a coin toss.
Did I keep this safe semblance of a truce or forge on for more?
I’d never been good at playing it safe.
“Then what is it?” I made a show of collecting up my tools, giving her space.
“We agreed a trade, one secret for another,” I reminded her.
“I answered all your questions about the practice.”
“That’s hardly a fair trade, I’d have asked better questions if I’d known.”
My laugh was a cackle, her teasing feeling like a breakthrough.
“Ask whatever you like, harpy, I’ll answer.” There was nothing she could ask that I wouldn’t trust her with.
“Why did you move back to Kinleith?”
Except that .
“You first,” I stalled.
“Since we’re trading.”
She blew out a breath, eyes settling over my shoulder as she said, “I hate being an inconvenience. In foster care, the challenging kids are always moved on more quickly. I learned early on it’s better not to draw attention to yourself.”
Fucking hell .
Just like that, Juniper’s entire life unfurled before me like a flip book.
No wonder she’d been pissed at my insinuation of knowing her.
Hell , I might not know her at all, because I finally got it.
All the ways she accommodated and made herself smaller.
Never pushing her parents or Alistair for more – even her friends on occasion – because love could be withdrawn as easily as it was given.
Fuck , even the damn cat and the wounds she bore like badges of honour.
I knew my expression was fierce as I dared a step nearer, my self-control crumbling.
A slight bend of my knees, that’s all it would take for my lips to reacquaint themselves with the taste of her.
They found her forehead instead.
Eyes clenching tight, I brushed them back and forth across her skin.
“Thank you for telling me.” The words felt woefully insignificant.
The tip of the iceberg of things I longed to say.
“You’re not going to assure me I’m not an inconvenience?”
Keeping her close, I tucked a silken strand of hair back behind her ear, tugging on the end of it until she looked at me.
“Striving not to take up space in this world is an im possible long-term goal, sweetheart. I like a little bit of mess.”
I should pull away .
We were tiptoeing down a dangerous path, with far more than my own heart on the line.
But then she relaxed into my hold, letting me stroke over the delicate arch of her ear, and I knew there was no stopping the inevitable.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said after a long minute, her voice a little bit drowsy.
“What question?”
“Kinleith.” She yawned.
“Why did you move back?”
“I wanted my own practice. Property here is cheaper than Edinburgh.”
“ Oh .” I didn’t imagine her disappointment.
“You don’t find it boring?”
“No, sweetheart.” My grip on her tightened.
“The opposite actually.”