Chapter Ten
Later that evening, Brodie went home to his own flat which was at the top of the high street above The Wee Bookshop.
He nodded at Aisling, who was pulling down the shutters, her keys jingling in one hand.
His flat had always been quite a functional space.
Everything had its place — he was very tidy — and the surfaces were free of clutter.
But sometimes, on the rare moments when he was stretched out on the couch watching television, he thought it didn’t look very lived in.
He had often wondered how he could make it a bit more welcoming and homely.
Perhaps hanging some pictures on the white walls would be the obvious place to start.
But he was so rarely here that it wasn’t a pressing concern.
After showering and pulling on a fresh pair of shorts and a T-shirt, he opened the fridge and stared at the contents for a few moments.
The small chunk of cheddar and old jars of chutney and pickled onions didn’t tempt him in the slightest, so he grabbed a sweatshirt and his keys and went back downstairs.
The street was quieter now, the shops locked up for the day, and the sky was streaked in chalky shades of blue and pink.
He headed down to the loch towards Rowan Bay Inn, taking in its reassuring soft lighting and, as he neared, the murmur of voices and laughter.
Pushing the door to the bar and restaurant open, he was met with the aroma of garlic and onions, making his stomach grumble.
‘Evening,’ said Lily, the manager, with a wide grin. ‘How’re you doing, Brodie? Haven’t seen you here for ages.’
‘I’m good thanks . . . But famished. I’ve got nothing in the flat.’
‘That’s because I bet you are never there. Let me guess, you’ve been busy working?’ She shook her head with a soft smile.
He shrugged. ‘You’re right. What can I say?’
‘Grab a seat and I’ll be right with you. Shall I bring you a pint?’
‘Thanks, Lily.’
‘The usual?’
‘Aye, please.’ Brodie scanned the bar area which was averagely busy with just enough background laughter and noise to make him feel comfortable. He nodded to a couple of people he knew and then walked to a corner booth.
‘There you go.’ Lily placed a pint in front of him.
‘Perfect. Thanks, Lily.’ He looked at her and frowned. ‘You look different. What have you done?’
Lily laughed. ‘I’ve had my hair cut.’
‘That’s it.’ Her long hair had been cut much shorter. It really suited her. Brodie adored her but always thought of her like a wee sister. ‘It looks great.’
A fond smile tugged at her lips. ‘Aw, thanks, Brodie. And how’s things with you?’
‘Not much new to report,’ he admitted. ‘Just work, work and more work.’
She wagged her finger at him. ‘Brodie, you need to take care of yourself. You work all the time. When did you last have any time off? I’m betting it was your trip to Costa Rica.’
He stifled a yawn. ‘I know, I know, but I love my work and you know me, I find it hard to say no. Especially when there are so many charlatans around fleecing people. I’m sure it will quieten down soon enough.’
She raised an eyebrow as if to say, really?
‘I start on Iris Fraser’s garden next week so I’ll be in my element.
Outside and looking at the view.’ His pulse quickened as he thought about the other view he had appreciated earlier that afternoon and something stirred in him which he hadn’t felt for a while.
Nobody had ever challenged his work before he had even started on a job and the fire in her eyes as she accused him should have annoyed him but, in fact, it had the opposite effect.
He gave himself a shake. The only thing he needed to look at next week was Iris’s weeds and flowers and the outlook over the loch.
Eyeing up Iris’s granddaughter was the very last thing that should be on his mind. ‘How’s the work going here?’
‘Oh, the tree house is almost done.’ Lily’s eyes were shining with excitement. ‘Thanks for the recommendation. Ross and the guys have been brilliant.’
Brodie was so relieved that they’d delivered.
He’d had to turn down the chance to work on the quirky tree house, a glamping cabin, that Lily had wanted built in the grounds of the inn.
He simply had too much on. ‘That’s great news.
I’ve seen some pictures that Ross shared with me but I am looking forward to seeing it when it’s done. ’
Lily glanced over at the bar then looked at Brodie. ‘What would you like to eat? I’ll get your order to the kitchen while there’s a bit of a lull.’
‘Chicken fajitas, please,’ he said, his stomach almost growling at the prospect.
‘Coming right up. I’ll tell them to be quick.’
Brodie smiled and gave her a thumbs up then took a sip of beer. It was refreshingly cold and quenched his thirst. He could see Hamish, from the nearby distillery, standing at the bar. When Hamish realised that Brodie was looking his way, he grinned and walked towards him.
‘Hey, Brodie. Long time no see, pal. How are you?’
Brodie stood up and shook his hand. ‘Good thanks. Just in for a bite to eat. How’s tricks with you?’ Brodie sat back down and gestured for Hamish to join him.
‘Aye, not too bad. Can’t complain.’
The men chatted as they sipped their drinks. Hamish was with the mountain rescue service and, like Brodie, was used to dropping everything at the last minute to help people in strife.
‘Here you go,’ said Lily arriving with Brodie’s food.
‘That looks good. Makes me wish I’d not eaten earlier,’ groaned Hamish, pushing back from the table with a half-smile.
‘You sure I can’t tempt you?’ teased Lily.
‘I’m sure. But thanks,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ll leave you in peace to eat your dinner. I need to head off anyway. Catch you later, mate.’
‘See you around, Hamish.’
Lily smiled and returned Hamish’s wave. ‘Well, enjoy your dinner, Brodie, and give me a shout if you need anything else. I’d better go and serve these punters that have just come in.’
Brodie looked at the hot plate in front of him with the sizzling strips of chicken and red and yellow peppers.
Lily had also brought a basket of soft tortillas and a dish with salsa and sour cream.
He took another sip of beer and reached for a tortilla, then added the chicken, some strips of pepper and a spoonful of salsa before rolling it up.
It was one of his favourite dinners which he would eat every night if he could.
He looked at the door, half-hoping it would open again.
That’s when he realised, with a bit of a shock, that he was looking for her.
He wanted Flora to come in. He put his half-eaten tortilla back on his plate.
What the hell is wrong with me? He had only met her briefly, albeit in quite an intimate moment when he’d had to rouse her from sleep.
He remembered the feel of her soft skin under his calloused hand, the purple bikini top she was wearing and the curve of her lips.
And now, just a few hours later, he was scanning the pub for her face.
He picked up his beer and took a gulp, frustrated with himself.
He was a man who was usually in charge. Yet he was somehow flustered over a woman he didn’t even know and, if he was honest, had been quite rude towards him.
Although that had intrigued him more. He reached for his tortilla and took another bite.
But he was still picturing Flora and the way she had looked at him when she opened her eyes in the garden.
He’d felt something tighten in his chest. Then again later when she brought out a glass of water and smiled at him.
Somehow, she had managed to get under his skin, without even really trying.
He gave himself a shake. ‘Brodie, Brodie,’ he muttered.
‘You need to get a grip.’ Hopefully by the time he started Iris’s garden on Monday he would be his usual professional self.
Which meant polite and keeping himself to himself.