Chapter 13
Jamie
Jamie hadn’t had this much fun with a woman since…
well, possibly never. Alicia’s nervousness around him made him work harder to put her at ease, brought out his humour, and the fact that she was emerging from her shell, gave him confidence.
He would never want Alicia to feel awkward or uncomfortable, but if they had reached a point where she was keen to paint him semi-clothed – which she appeared to be – then he was up for that.
If truth be told, however, Jamie was glad of his jeans as the more skin that was bared to Alicia, the more he thought of sex.
He would have to hold things together and keep a tight rein on his thoughts, and his crotch, whilst posing for the next few hours.
Hopefully the conversation wouldn’t meander onto riskier pathways, or he might be in trouble.
Alicia being comfortable when sketching him was the most important thing.
Jamie was curious as to whether she enjoyed this type of drawing, but to ask was essentially asking if she liked sketching naked men, which sounded rude, so instead he asked, ‘So there must be endless possibilities to paint landscapes in California, right?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Alicia lit up. ‘There’s so much natural beauty and nature is my escape to switch off from it all.’
Nothing struck a chord with Jamie more than turning to nature to unravel the knots of the human world. ‘I can understand that completely,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need to switch off from the most?’
As if the question forced her to think of things she didn’t want to, Alicia sharpened her gaze on the canvas. Had he asked too much too soon? He was just curious, about people – about her – but maybe he’d come across as prying. He began to apologise. ‘Sorry if that was––’
‘Just, la-la life, I guess,’ Alicia said perkily whilst evading his eyeline. ‘Even as an artist, I still deal with assholes on a regular basis, whether it’s at the store or the gym or wherever. The stuff we all have to endure.’
‘Endure is a strong word.’
‘Well, there are a lot of assholes in my city. And I’m not so hot at dealing with them.’
‘I guess there are in any city. Scotland has its fair share too.’
‘Oh, you’re shattering my illusions of a quaint Scottish village where everyone bakes each other bread and laughs continually over glasses of whisky.’
‘Kinshore can be like that, don’t let that stop you visiting. If you ever thought of visiting that is. Which you probably didn’t. Although you are welcome any time you like.’ Jeezo! She’ll well and truly have forgotten her own awkwardness now, you havering numptie.
Fortunately for Jamie, Alicia asked who the biggest asshole in his village was.
The answer without a doubt was Frank but Jamie didn’t want to get into the ins and outs of having been dumped for the village arsehole.
It wasn’t a way to endear himself to a woman.
Thankfully, though, Frank had many strings to his “arseholery”.
‘Och, there’s this whisky blogger guy who’s taken it upon himself to write a load of rubbish about Butler’s, including the “fact” that we are puppets for the “Highland Mafia”. I’m not sure how many people believe it, but it’s sensationalist crap that means more firefighting for our PR department.’
‘Highland Mafia! Is that real?’ Alicia stopped painting and Jamie wished it was a thing so he could enthral her with tales of it.
‘It’s not real. The guy has lost the plot.’
‘He sure sounds like it. I guess you could harness his nonsense and turn it into a mythological backstory for the product. Use it in an advertising campaign. Set the scene of rogue Highlanders of the past drinking Butler’s.
Smugglers. Illicit stills. That kind of thing.
’ Alicia gesticulated with her brush as if painting the scene she described.
‘Make it appear all mystical and edgy, but then switch it up to the reality, that it’s simply a family-run business founded on generations of hard work.
Use that contrast to reinforce how solid and grounded in family love the company is.
That’s one in the face for his fantastical garbage. ’
‘Woah!’ Jamie shook his head to check he wasn’t dreaming. In thirty seconds, Alicia had effortlessly devised a stupendous marketing campaign for Butler’s whisky without even being asked to.
‘Sorry, I talk nonsense sometimes,’ she apologised, returning to the canvas. ‘I’ve been watching too much Clan Bràthairs.’
‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Jamie insisted. ‘Your idea is incredible. I don’t know what Clan Bràthairs is, but I’ll check it out – once I get a TV, that is.’
‘You should. It’s about the Highland underworld of the past. Kind of Peaky Blinders meets Outlander.’
‘Oh, that. Yeah, my brother Sean has mentioned it. He’s a big fan.’
‘It’s awesome. My brother is…’ Alicia stopped.
‘Your brother is what? Is he into it, too?’
‘Ha! Yes, he’s obsessed with it. And I’m glad you like the idea. There’s plenty more garbage where that came from.’
That Alicia thought her idea was garbage both amazed and bothered Jamie. ‘It’s far from rubbish, so I won’t hear that. I’ve paid marketing companies a lot of money to come up with stuff that isn’t even half as good. Is the idea copyrighted?’
‘No. You can have it. I promise I won’t sue. Although maybe watch Clan Bràthairs, to check you don’t have any overlapping ideas and get chased by the production company.’
‘I will do. Also, I’m impressed by your Gaelic pronunciation of brothers.’
‘Thank you. You’re a great subject, by the way. Real natural.’
‘Ach, it’s the artist putting me at ease.
’ Alicia had managed to make Jamie forget that he was being sketched half-naked.
And they’d navigated several topics with no awkwardness, apart from Jamie trying to avoid the truth about Frank.
Although at the same time as making him forget himself, Alicia made Jamie potently aware of every cell in his body because they all thrummed with life when he was around her.
She was beautiful to look at, but her curiosity, creativity and enthusiasm turned him on, too.
Merely being in the same room as her got him going and he really wanted to adjust himself inside his jeans right now, but that would look very wrong.
‘You say the nicest things. So, tell me, Jamie.’ Alicia pinpointed Jamie with a question that made him wonder if he was more transparent than he realised. ‘What exactly is it that you want?’