Chapter 33
Noah
Ichecked my bank balance before wrapping up my day and heading down to the Christmas market.
Wow.
It was … good. My anxiety dissipated. Well, to a point, at least. I’d phased out the lewd content on my social media feed over the last couple of weeks, and replaced it with day-to-day life in Scotland.
It had cost me some followers but, unexpectedly, my income had gone up.
Not only did I have a paycheck from Lone Fox that covered my basic expenses and then some, I also got a steady stream of donations through my Moola and new subscribers on my OnlyFangs.
They weren’t getting any new content, but I had enough on there to keep them entertained for a while.
Maybe one day soon I could take the account offline.
And to think that I’d been this close to setting up a GoFundYourself. But in the end, it had felt icky to take money to fund my life choices, and I’d decided to leave the mutual aid for the people who actually needed it.
Life was good, but I still hadn’t talked to Lewis about going back to Bali, or rather how I very much didn’t want to do that. Perhaps I was too stubborn for my own good, but come on! I’d expected Lew, well, not to beg me to stay, but to bring it up somehow.
Is he too noble to ask me to stay or just not interested? I asked myself for the umpteenth time as I bundled up in my APEX coat, a scarf and beanie, and a pair of smartphone gloves I’d treated myself to with my first LFD money.
I’d document the market night for our ArgoS.
Time to go.
I spotted Lewis just outside the brewery. The expression on his face reminded me of a child laying eyes on the decked out tree on Christmas morning.
I greeted people as I made my way through the thickening crowd of visitors. Then his eyes met mine, and he beamed.
“Puppy.” Lew invited me to his side so we both gazed at the scene before us.
“Hey! Are you done with the course?”
“Yes, we just wrapped it up and sent our participants to get some mulled cider. Most are staying around until tomorrow.” He waved a hand at a small group of people. I recognised Asher Foxwood and a woman with long red hair as two of them.
“Did it go well?”
“I think so,” Lew said modestly. “They said they liked it.”
“I am so proud of you, Pretty Kitty. You are amazing.” I gave him a brief hug, then quickly checked our surroundings.
Should have done that first.
Nobody took notice of us. The peoples’ attention was firmly on the market. It was so picturesque with the snow and the lights they’d strung between the stalls. Their breaths plumed in the cold air, and steam rose from pans and kettles.
“I’m proud of you, too, Puppy. Look how full it is already.” He checked his watch. “And it’s barely five. Give it another hour, and you won’t be able to move between the stalls.”
“Yeah, I hope more people will come.”
Lew squeezed my elbow and lingered for a moment longer. “They will.”
“I’ll better go and get some more pictures. Do you want to come along?”
“You mean as your bodyguard so you don’t get trampled by the masses?” He moved behind me. “Lead the way, Noah. By the way,” Lew leaned in until his muzzle was next to my ear, “how do you know Asher Foxwood? Is he a colleague?”
The way he said colleague made me giggle and press back into his warm body for a fleeting moment.
“We never made content together if that’s what you mean.
I follow him. I think he has an OnlyFangs account, too.
” I knew for a fact that he did, but I wasn’t into knots.
“And we’re not playing on the same team.
” Lew inhaled a sharp breath when I sneaked my hand between us and briefly squeezed his cock. “And he needs press training—badly.”
We moved through the crowd with Lew shielding me from behind like a walking furnace.
“I don’t know the first thing about PR,” he said. “But I agree.”
Asher was a lovely guy, but he never quite grasped how much to share and which bits of information to keep quiet.
When I’d arrived in Bali all those years ago, a digital nomad from Greece had taken me under his wing.
Alexis had given me a crash course in public relations and how to curate one’s online personality.
When was the last time you texted him?
Asher needed one of those. If I hung around, perhaps I could ….
“Mulled cider, Puppy?” Lewis’ low voice sounded right next to my ear.
I half turned and held his gaze, teetering on the verge of telling him that I wanted to stay, but the moment passed. “Oh, yeah, thanks, Lew.”
He returned a few minutes later holding two cups of steaming cider in his hands.
“To us,” he muttered so quietly only I could hear him.
“To us,” I repeated louder. I didn’t give a fuck if anyone heard.
As much as I dreaded the inevitable confrontation with Ollie and what Lewis’ decision might look like, I didn’t want us to stay a secret for much longer.
We strolled around so I could take pictures. Lew got a small carved fox charm for me at one of the stalls that was run by a white-haired young man with fox ears and a tail, and I got us jams from an imposing antlered guy who promised that they had magical abilities.
“Let’s say hi to Duncan. I think he’ll have mead for sale. You’ve got to try it, it’s the best.”
He greeted us and refilled our mugs from a pot. The scent of Duncan’s mead alone made me slightly dizzy.
“Holy shit, this stuff is intense.” I giggled a little as I bumped into Lew. He steadied me with a hand on the small of my back and let it linger.
“Don’t worry, Puppy.” The hand trailed down to briefly squeeze my butt. “I’ve got you.”
For good, if you want.
A few days after the market at Lone Fox Distillery, Lewis and I spent a slow and cosy Christmas.
We’d decided to celebrate on Christmas Eve like Austrians and Germans did.
Lew had even showed up with a tree and an ungodly amount of decorations, and we spent an hour decking the tree while our roast was in the oven.
He bought them for me.
“This is the best, Puppy.” Lew sighed as he pulled me into his arms on the couch after dinner.
“God, I’m so full.” I groaned as I crawled into his lap and settled with my cheek at his collar bone. Then I spread the fluffy blanket over both of us. “Best Christmas ever. Thank you for spending it with me. And for feeding me. That roast was so good.”
Lew chuckled. “You’re welcome, Puppy.” He rested a huge palm on my stomach. “And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be tonight than here with you.”
I don’t want to leave. Just ask me to stay, Lew, please.
We sat like this for a long time while snow fell outside and the string lights we’d wrapped around the tree shed their warm glow over the room.
***
Lew and I spent the days after Christmas helping with the Hogmanay preparations at Lone Fox.
It had been a long time since I’d rung in the new year with someone special, and I basked in the comfort of this found family. We were all so mismatched, yet somehow it didn’t matter.
The long tables we’d pushed together groaned under the weight of all the food SweetPea and his new sous-chef AEgir had prepared for today. He was an acquaintance of Kjartan’s and had got the job while Lew and I had been in Kirkmuir.
His partner, Skye, and their small daughter swayed to an old pub song Maddie’s dad played on his guitar.
Every time AEgir’s head poked out of the kitchen, he watched them with so much devotion on his face it made me squeal.
This tall, tattooed man figuratively lying at both their feet was too much for my heart.
“He looks at her the way I look at you, Puppy,” Lew muttered in my ear when he cottoned on. “He thinks he’s keeping it together, but it’s written all over his face, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I huffed. It was a wonder that Ollie hadn’t realised we were dating yet, or perhaps he didn’t want to see it.
“You look so good, by the way,” Lew added in a low, growling voice.
I straightened my spine and tried to hide my grin.
“Thanks, Lewis.” Ariah had told me about a new thrift shop in Kincardie that I’d checked out the other day. I’d scored a barely used kilt in the Hall tartan.
While Lew got coffee to go for us, I’d dipped into Bell’s Kilts.
I didn’t have enough money to get a new sporran, but I’d splurged on cream kilt hose, the long socks you wore with a kilt, flashes to hold them up, and even a sgian-dubh, the small knife you tucked into the hose.
My boots weren’t quite right for the outfit, but I’d decided to give it my own spin anyway.
“Noah Bright,” a voice from behind me made Lew and me almost jump apart.
“Laird Hall,” I greeted the Old Fox who leaned heavily on his walking stick and surveyed me.
Don’t bow, Noah.
I’d grown up half scared, half in awe of the man whose human grandmother was related to my dad’s family.
He held out a broad hand covered in sleek black fur and I shook it.
“It’s good to see you back here, and in our family tartan.” Our family? Was he getting sentimental in his old age?
“Thank you, sir.” I almost bowed but caught myself at the last moment. My da had drilled the respect of Ilwyn Hall into both of us. “It’s good to be back here.”
The Old Fox nodded. His bright green eyes swivelled down to the kilt and back up.
“Don’t let me keep the two of you,” he said and clapped his hand to Lew’s enormous bicep. “Sinclair.” He nodded at Lewis and moved on to greet more guests.
See? Even Laird Hall knows we’re an item.
“Okay, that was a little awkward,” I muttered as I pulled Lew towards the buffet to grab some more of the crackers and sheep milk cheese.
They wouldn’t have been part of a traditional Hogmanay feast but no complaints from me about their inclusion.
Duncan was here and both Fitz and SweetPea were adamant about serving a wide variety of local goods.
“I thought it was very kind. And he’s got a point. You belong here, Noah.”
I stuffed a cracker into my mouth to save myself from having to reply.