Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROBBIE
The scraper makes a satisfying ripping sound as I tear away another strip of the hideous floral wallpaper. Whoever thought this pattern was a good idea should be banned from interior decorating for life. Beneath it, the wall is a patchy mess, uneven and cracked. That’ll need sorted before any new paper or paint goes up.
It’s my second day of working in Cat’s flat, and I’ve been at this task for hours. It’s tedious, but a bit of mindless work is exactly what I need right now, or so I keep telling myself. Each strip I peel away is another minute where I shouldn’t be thinking about the resort, or the accusation hanging over me, or the fact my own father is willing to believe I stole from guests. But try as I might, those thoughts keep creeping back in.
The front door clicks open. “Just me!” Cat calls. A few seconds later, her voice fills the living room. “Wow! I’ve been dying to see the back of this wallpaper since I set foot in here. Great work, Robbie!”
I pause the rock music playing through my phone, checking the time as I do. Bang on four o’clock, just like yesterday. Don’t teachers have marking or lesson planning or whatever to do? And wouldn’t it make more sense for Cat to do that in her classroom than here, surrounded by dust and mess?
“Cheers.” I get back to it with the scraper. “Should have it all down before I leave today.”
She moves into my peripheral vision. “No rush. Honestly, I could watch you strip all night—and I don’t just mean the wallpaper. Last week’s shirtless wood-chopping show was quite the spectacle.” She fans herself.
Christ, here we go again. I shake my head and focus on the wall. The seven-year age gap between us feels like twenty when she comes out with stuff like that. There’s something distinctly immature about her approach, like a teenager who’s just discovered flirting and is trying it out for size. Didn’t I make it crystal clear when I accepted the job that there was to be none of this nonsense? And yet here we are. She’s persistent, I’ll give her that.
“Can you pass me that bucket?” My strategy for dealing with Catriona McIntyre’s flirting attempts is to simply not engage.
She goes over to the corner, picks it up, then sashays back and hands it to me with a flourish. “Here you go. Need anything else? A drink? A snack?” She pauses and bats her eyelashes. “Me?”
Jesus Christ. She’s barely in the door! There’s no build-up whatsoever. It’s straight from zero to sixty.
“Nope. Just the bucket, thanks.” I take it and get back to work.
Apparently, she gets the message because she leaves me to get on with things in peace—for all of ten minutes. Then she calls, “Robbie? Could you help me with something? I’m too short.”
With a sigh, I put down my tools and head into the bedroom, where she’s standing by the built-in wardrobe, a box in her hands.
“Can you put this up there for me?” She indicates the top shelf. “It’s winter clothing.”
On the face of it, it’s an innocent enough request, so I do as she asks. But then—because of course there’s a “but then”—she shifts slightly as I stretch upwards, and her breast grazes against me.
Oh, for crying out loud. There’s no way that wasn’t on purpose. Right, that’s it.
My hand finds her hip—not gentle, not rough, just... firm. I step into her space like the air between us belongs to me now, close enough to her that she has to tilt her head back to keep looking at me. Then, because I don’t stop walking, she retreats, backing away until there’s nothing but solid wall behind her and me in front of her.
I slam my hand flat against the plaster above her head, hard enough to make her flinch. Her eyes go wide as saucers, and for once— for once —she’s quiet. I lean in close, so close I can feel the heat rolling off her skin.
“Catriona,” I growl, my voice low with warning.
She’s breathing fast now, her chest rising and falling with every breath.
Damn it. Don’t look at her tits, Robbie. Focus!
“You think this is a game?” The words are rough-edged, practically a snarl. “Because if it is, I’m not playing. You hired me to do a job, and that’s what I’m here to do. So whatever you think you’re doing, it needs to stop.”
She lifts her chin a wee bit higher. “I thought you’d be up for some fun.” She says it steadily enough, but a faint quiver slips through. She’s not as sure of herself as she’s pretending. “I mean, you’re Robbie MacDonald. Bannock’s bad boy. Why are you being so... boring?”
I let out a slow breath, then I breathe in again and her scent wraps around me—coconut shampoo mixed with something floral, like she’s just stepped out of a summer garden. Almost instinctively my hand tightens on her hip. She’s warm. So warm.
“Boring?” I manage.
She holds my gaze defiantly, the tilt of her head exposing the delicate line of her throat. “Yes! Boring!” She jabs at my chest with her finger. “It’s because of my brothers. Right? God, is your reputation a lie? Is there even an adventurous bone in your body?”
Bloody hell, she is incorrigible. But maybe there’s something to what she’s saying. Maybe I should just give in, fuck her, and be done with it. Maybe then I could get on with my work in peace, and God knows I could use the release after the week I’ve had.
My gaze drops to her lips, pink and slightly parted, like she’s daring me to take what she keeps offering. I can’t remember the last time I was this close to a woman and didn’t take her to bed.
But no, I can’t—and yet she’s not listening to me! So maybe I need to teach her a lesson. The thought slips in uninvited, a mental image of me yanking down her tight work trousers, laying her facedown over my lap, and skelping her arse until she finally gets the message. My dick twitches at the thought. I’d like to do that . A lot. She’d fucking deserve it too.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a photo on Cat’s bedside table. A family photo, showing her with her brothers and parents.
Shit. Her parents.
An altogether different image crashes into my head, a memory of a stormy winter night seven years ago. I was on my motorcycle, and the rain was lashing down hard. It was fucking miserable. But then my headlights caught something off the side of the road. A car, smashed into a tree, steam rising from its crumpled bonnet. I pulled up and killed the engine. Got off my bike. Approached the wreck, and?—
Abruptly I push away from the wall, putting distance between me and Cat. “I fucking told you that nothing is going to happen between us.”
She blinks, startled—but only for a moment. Then she harrumphs and folds her arms across her chest. “Well, if you really aren’t up for a bit of fun—if you’re really going to be so boring—we’ll have to talk about something else. Like... why you left your job at the resort.”
At this, I turn away from her and walk out of the bedroom. “No,” I call over my shoulder. “We’re not going to talk about that. I’m off—I’ll be back tomorrow. And from now on, I’ll only be working when you’re not in the flat.”
“Oh, come on!” She follows me. “Whatever happened, I bet there are things you need to get off your chest. You need to talk to someone , and who’s it going to be? There’s your da and Johnny, but they both work at the resort, so maybe it’s not so easy to talk to them about what happened.”
I grab my phone from the living room, deciding my tools can stay where they are until tomorrow. I just want to get out of here. But when I make for the front door, Cat blocks my exit.
“Who else have you got? Because, let’s be honest, you’re a bit of a lone wolf, Robbie. Who else around Bannock are you going to open up to, if not me?”
“Opening up isn’t really my style.” I drum my fingers against my thigh and eye her with impatience. “Besides, I’m fully aware this is just another ploy to get close to me. Now, could you move out of my way?”
She does, holding up both hands and taking an exaggerated sidestep. “Fine! But not everything I do has an agenda, you know. Maybe I just think you could do with having someone in your corner. But whatever. Keep bottling it all up if that’s working for you.”
The annoying thing is, it hasn’t been working. There really hasn’t been anyone I can vent to, other than the punchbag in my garage. And no matter how hard I go to town on that thing, I don’t feel any better.
Still, I make for the door.
“You don’t have to be some stereotypical man who refuses to open up,” Cat insists. “What pressing plans do you have for this evening? Can you really not spare ten minutes for a drink and a chat?”
I pause, my hand on the door handle. “I’m not one of your students that you have to counsel.”
“No, but you are acting like a moody teenager. Lucky for you, I’m a great listener, so why not open up? What’s the worst that could happen?”
I release a long, irritated sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re like a bloody terrier, you know that? Won’t let go until you get what you want.”
She grins, unapologetic. “Guilty as charged.”
I hesitate a little longer, torn between my instinct to shut her out and the nagging voice in my head that says she might actually have a point. “Fine,” I mutter eventually, dragging a hand down my face before pointing at her like this whole thing is somehow her fault. “Ten minutes. No more.”
She beams then bounces through to the kitchen. “I’ll crack open a couple of beers!”
“No! No beer. I’ll take a tea, though.”
She sticks her head out of the kitchen door, a genuine smile lighting up her face—not the flirtatious one she’s been throwing me since she got home, but something warmer, more real. “One tea coming right up. How do you take it?”
“Milk, no sugar.”
I follow her through and sink onto one of her kitchen chairs, suddenly exhausted. When did I last actually talk to someone about my problems? Not Johnny—I’m always trying to protect him. Not my da—that relationship has been strained for as long as I can remember. And I don’t exactly have mates I pour my heart out to. There’s Drew, but that relationship is based on jokey banter. We don’t do personal stuff.
Cat places a steaming mug in front of me—it has a Highland cow on it—then sits opposite me with her own mug. She waits, patient for once, giving me space to find my words.
“I’ve been accused of stealing from guests at the resort,” I say finally. “Valuable stuff. A watch, diamond earrings, a signet ring, cash.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly, but that’s the only sign of surprise. She nods, encouraging me to continue.
“Da found out my keycard was used to access the rooms where items went missing, but I swear I didn’t go in them on those days.” The words come easier now, spilling out like I’ve uncorked something. “Someone’s set me up. I don’t know who or why, but they’ve done a good job of it.”
I take a sip of my tea, the warmth spreading through my chest. “Da suspended me, but I quit instead. Told him where he could stick his job.”
“What about CCTV?” Cat questions. “Doesn’t the resort have footage that could clear things up?”
I shake my head. “Not in the guest corridors. Privacy reasons. The only cameras are in public areas, like the lobby and restaurant.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should tell her the rest. Something about her steady gaze encourages me to continue.
“My da made my brother escort me to my locker to collect my things. When I was taking out my jacket, a ring fell out. One of the stolen items.”
Cat’s brows draw together. “Wait... what?”
“I swear I’d never seen it before in my life, but there it was, planted in my locker.”
“What did you do?”
“I asked Johnny to lie.” The admission feels heavier than I expected. “I begged him to say he found it somewhere else, not in my locker. He agreed, but he wasn’t happy about it. Johnny’s always been the good one, you know? The rule follower.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up again. “Anyway, my da said he and Johnny have to keep their distance from me for now. He doesn’t want it looking like they’re interfering with the police investigation. I do get that... kind of. But it’s still shit.”
Cat’s quiet, processing everything I’ve told her. Finally she says, “And... you just walked away? You aren’t trying to clear your name?”
I shrug. “How? I’m not welcome at the resort right now, so what am I supposed to do?”
“Have you at least approached a lawyer?”
“The police haven’t charged me yet, so no. I’d rather not involve a lawyer unless I have to.” I grimace. “Apart from anything else, they’re bloody expensive, right?”
“So... you’re doing nothing ? I hate to point this out, Robbie, but you have a bit of a reputation around town. It’d be all too easy for people to believe you did this.”
“Aye,” I say glumly. “I realise that.”
“So you have to fight this.”
I stare at her for a moment, thrown by her total lack of doubt. Most folk would at least have asked if I did it.
“How?”
“Well, someone put that ring in your locker.” She leans forwards. “If it wasn’t you, who might it have been? Is there anyone who has it in for you?”
I scoff. “Where do I start? I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years.”
She sets her mug down. “C’mon, consider the question properly. Surely the easiest way to clear your name is to come up with another name, the name of the person who actually did it. So give me some names!”
“Where did this Sherlock Holmes act come from?”
She grins. “I’m a fan of a good whodunnit. They’re a great break from the more high-brow literature I had to study at university. Now, suspects. Go!”
I consider her question. “Well... one person who’s never liked me is Ally McIntyre.”
Cat rolls her eyes. “Right. My brother framed you. Sure.”
“Why not?” I say, warming to the idea, if only to wind her up. “He’s always around the resort these days, thanks to his adventure business. He and Aidan are constantly there to pick up customers for outdoor activities, or to drop them off. He’s got the motive—he and I have never got along—and considering all the time he spends at the resort, he’s had the opportunity too. Aye, I think there’s a strong possibility it was him.”
Cat fixes me with a flat stare. “Right. Ally, who’s married to a woman he loves, who’s running his dream business with his best mate, and who’s just become a father to a second wee boy. Oh, and who lives with his family in a gorgeous house, where I know for a fact they’re all very happy. You’re saying Ally decided to risk all that, and potentially end up in prison, by nicking some items and framing you? Just to settle some ancient grudge against a guy who drove him up the wall when he was a lad? Aye, that sounds dead logical.” Her words drip with sarcasm.
“All right, well... let’s put him down as a maybe.” I wink at her, enjoying the way her cheeks flush with indignation. Truthfully, I don’t for a second think Ally’s behind this, but ruffling Cat’s feathers is too tempting to resist.
She sighs. “Who else?”
I give it some proper thought. “Well, there is Samantha, who works at the resort and has never particularly liked me. She’s tried to report me to my da a few times in the past, and I reckon she’s frustrated I’ve never been disciplined to the extent she’d like.”
The memory of my departure from the resort flashes back to me. “Oh, and here’s a funny thing. When Johnny was leading me to my bike, after I told Da I’d quit, we passed Samantha and she had this strange smile on her face, like she was pleased I was finally getting my comeuppance. She even asked me if I was having a bad day in this really smug, unpleasant way.”
“Samantha... Drummond?” Cat says. “I don’t know her well, but I know who she is. She’s the head of housekeeping, right? So it’d have been easy for her to access the guests’ rooms?”
“Aye,” I agree. “She had the means, and the motive. Shit. It might actually have been her.”
“See?” Cat sits up straighter. “We’re getting somewhere already! Although...” She frowns and taps her finger against her mug. “Would she really risk jail just to see you properly punished? Nah, she’d need another motive too. Like needing the money.”
“Well, she got divorced last year.”
“Oh!” Cat bounces in her chair. “That fits! The divorce could’ve hit her hard—legal fees, splitting assets, maybe even alimony payments. If the opportunity came along to pocket some valuable items from guests and frame you in the process, that might’ve been too tempting for her to resist.”
I nod, scratching my jaw. “Maybe. And... I don’t know if this is relevant, but for all her disapproval of me, she did try it on with me once, last year. I reckon she wanted a rebound fling or something, but I turned her down pretty firmly. Let’s just say she didn’t take it well.”
“Ohhhh, that’s absolutely relevant! Haven’t you heard the saying Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned ?”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “Aye, well, it does seem like something she’d hold against me.”
“So”—Cat ticks off points on her fingers—“money trouble, possibly. Bruised ego from your rejection, definitely. And access to guest rooms, yep. I reckon she fits the profile!”
I can’t help but give a small smile at her enthusiasm. “All right, let’s say it was her. How do I prove it and clear my name? Especially when I’m not exactly welcome at the resort.”
“Hmm.” Cat purses her lips thoughtfully. “Well, right now we’re just guessing that Samantha might be having money problems. Truthfully, we’ve no idea. So how about, as a next step, I try to dig into that? Bannock being the way it is, if she’s been struggling financially, someone around town will have heard of it. I could have a few conversations, see if anything interesting comes to light?”
“Why you?”
She blinks, then a smirk tugs at her lips. “Robbie, most folk around Bannock can’t resist a good chinwag, but you ? You aren’t exactly known for your small talk or your sunny disposition. If you start chatting with people and asking questions, they’ll think something dodgy is going on and clam up. Me, on the other hand? Folk won’t bat an eye if I poke around.”
Hmm, she’s got a point there. “Well... if you think playing Miss Marple will help figure this out, go ahead.”
She beams as though I’ve just handed her some kind of golden opportunity. “Great! I’ll see what I can find out. This is actually kind of exciting! Maybe I should buy a cork board, so I can set up something like you always see on those detective programmes, with mugshots and Post-it Notes and red string connecting different ideas...”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You realise this is my life we’re talking about? Not a bit of entertainment for you?”
Her smile falters, and she has the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh. Of course. Sorry, when I said it was exciting, I meant?—”
“Aye, I know what you meant. It’s fine.” I drain the last of my tea. “It doesn’t matter why you’re helping, I still appreciate it. I’m not sure it’ll come to anything, but what the hell, you might as well see what you can find.” I stand. “Anyway, I best go.”
“Already?” Disappointment is clear in her voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer? After everything you’ve been through, maybe you could do with some... relief?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
I grunt and shake my head. I’ll give it to her, this lass is nothing if not persistent.
“That’s definitely my cue to go,” I say. “See you, Cat.”