Chapter 3
THREE
ALEX
“I’ll take it.” Relieved to have sorted out my own place so quickly, I turned to shake Hamish’s hand.
When we’d stopped back by the law office at the end of the day on Friday to pick up our copies of the sale contracts, I’d told his office manager, Marsaili, that I was looking for somewhere to let, and she’d mentioned that Hamish and his wife had just recently finished renovating the flat above his office. He’d already gone for the day, but Marsaili had called him and arranged for me to see the place late Saturday afternoon.
It wasn’t huge. One bedroom, one bath, with a surprisingly spacious main room that made up the kitchen and lounge area. I didn’t have need of much, and the location couldn’t be beat. Right around the corner from the pub, it was also within easy walking distance of work. Unlike Callum, who’d bought a house in what felt like the middle of bloody nowhere, I didn’t mind being right in the heart of the village. I could have continued to stay with Finn, but I wanted my own space. Eventually, if everything worked out, I’d buy something. Put down some real roots. For now, this suited. Best of all, it came mostly furnished, so I wouldn’t have to waste time or money on that myself. I traveled pretty light. I had things in storage down in Dumbarton where my family lived, but I could make a trip down to get it when it was convenient, rather than rushing.
“Fantastic. How soon are you wanting to move in?”
“As soon as possible. Tonight? Tomorrow?”
If Hamish was surprised, he didn’t show it. “We can make that happen. Let’s just step downstairs to sign the lease.”
I followed him down to the office, skimming through the paperwork and signing on for a year. If I ended up needing to break it, I’d only be out a month’s rent and my deposit. I wrote out a check.
Hamish handed over the keys and a business card. “We’ve just finished renovations in the last few weeks, so everything should be set, but if you have any trouble with anything, just give me a call, and we’ll get it sorted.”
“What about the utilities?”
“Och, Monday will be soon enough to get them switched over. Welcome to Glenlaig, Alex.”
“Thanks.” I followed him outside so he could lock up the office and waved when he got into his car.
For a moment, I simply stood there, soaking up the quiet of the autumn evening and debating with myself. I could go straight to Finn’s and begin packing my things to bring over. It wouldn’t take me long. I’d been living out of a duffel bag for the few days I’d been here. But I’d promised him and Callum that I’d meet them at the pub so we could have the celebratory drink we hadn’t gotten around to last night. I couldn’t really beg off again without rousing sufficient suspicion from them both to spark an interrogation.
The truth of it was I was being a coward.
I’d chosen to move to Glenlaig with my mates, knowing that she was here. It wasn’t a large village. We’d inevitably cross paths sooner rather than later. I just hoped that whenever that happened, I had some genius idea for what the hell to say. Three years hadn’t been enough time for me to figure it out, so I was relying on the pressure of being under the gun to get me out of this mess of my own making.
But it was Saturday night. Given her line of work, she probably had a wedding today. She’d either be working or too tired to come out after wrangling clients all day. Right? Surely, I’d have a reprieve and get more than two days before I had to face the consequences of my past?
Decided, I pocketed the keys to the flat and strode around the corner and across the street to The Stag’s Head Pub. A roar of sound greeted me as I stepped inside. It was a good place Ewan had here. When he’d left the Royal Marines, he’d bought it from the younger generation of a family who hadn’t wanted to continue the business. Other than adding a few more televisions for coverage of the various sporting events his clientele enjoyed, he’d changed little. With its tartan wallpaper and dark wainscoting, The Stag’s Head looked like what it was—a friendly neighborhood pub.
The latest Premier League football match was on the two screens I could see. Patrons clustered around them, pints in hand. More were shooting pool at the table in the back. I wove my way through mostly full tables toward the bar. Ewan moved behind it with the same fluid ease he’d once used for infiltration on missions, but he no longer wore the shadows of the things we’d done in the name of duty.
Credit for that went entirely to Isobel Donnchadh, the world-renowned violinist everyone else knew as Elizabeth Duncan. When she’d gone on the run to escape her controlling and abusive manager, Ewan had been the one to rescue her and give her a place to hide out until the legalities could be disentangled. He’d fallen arse over teakettle for her, as had she with him. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But Finn and I had joined them as security on the last leg of her final concert tour, so we’d gotten to know her well. She was a total sweetheart, and our former section leader was a lucky bastard. He’d taken the lot of us ring shopping a while back, but so far, he hadn’t worked up the nerve or found the right time to ask her to marry him.
I bellied up to the long stretch of polished bar, where Finn and Callum perched on stools.
“Decided to join us, then?” Ewan asked.
“I said I would.” Never mind that I’d had to talk myself into actually following through. “Where’s your better half this evening?”
“She’s visiting with my mum, but said she planned to stop by later.”
Callum pivoted on his stool. “Did you find a flat?”
“Aye. I ended up leasing the one above the law office.”
“Close enough to stumble home,” Finn declared. “Though I dinna ken why you had to move out so bloody fast.”
In the way of old friends, I lightly shoulder checked him. “Because you snore like a bleeding freight train. I had enough of that on missions, thanks very much.”
Finn clutched his chest like a heroine in one of the historical period dramas my mum liked to watch. “I’m mortally offended, sir.”
I grinned at him. “Your ego needed some deflating.” Turning back to Ewan, I slapped a hand on the bar. “What’s a man got to do to get a pint around here?”
“We’re drinking to business. That calls for whisky,” Callum announced. “The good stuff, McBride, aye?”
Ewan pulled out three glasses and poured. We each picked one up.
“To Highland Hooligans Adventures,” Finn proclaimed.
Callum and I stared.
“We’re no’ calling it that,” I insisted. “What about Caledonian Quest Adventures?”
“That makes it sound like we’ll be taking clients on a hunt for Nessie or some shite. No,” Callum vetoed. “To the business, the name of which is to be determined. There’s no one I’d rather trust my future to than you lot.”
Finn faked blinking back tears. “That was beautiful, mate.”
Callum scowled, which only served to highlight the scar that ran through his left eye. “Shut yer puss and drink.”
We clinked glasses and did exactly that.
The whisky slid down my throat like warm, smoky butter.
As we’d talked, more and more people had come inside, raising the noise level and with it my own twitchiness. I was back to wanting quiet. I finished off the whisky. “I think I’m going to call it an early night. I want to go back to Finn’s and start packing.”
Finn draped an arm around my shoulders. “Come on! It’s Saturday night. We’re here to celebrate. You can move tomorrow.”
I opened my mouth to make excuses again and glanced back toward the door. Whatever words had been on my tongue simply died as she walked into the pub, surrounded by other women.
She was even more gorgeous than I remembered, with all that rich, dark hair I itched to sink my fingers into and those lips I still woke up convinced I could taste. My tongue promptly glued itself to the roof of my mouth, and I knew I was well and truly fucked.