Chapter 5
FIVE
WE’RE HERE FOR YE
Wasp
Sweat stung my eyes, and my arms shook with the effort of holding aloft the newly hewn timber support beam.
I’d been home for four days and was well into my aim of killing myself with physical work.
The crofthouse’s decaying roof had to be replaced, and my brothers and I had thrown our backs into it.
I needed the distraction. The hard, exhausting work kept my mind off other things.
Sexy, blonde, half-naked things.
But at night, though my aching muscles screamed for rest, I lay awake, wondering if I should’ve done something different with Taylor.
That whole evening had messed with my head.
“Is she level?” Ally called.
“Left,” I yelled back across the shell of a house. “Another inch.”
“Good my end. Slide her in, baby.” Ally catcalled as the beam fitted snugly into its setting.
“We have a frame!” I whooped and leapt down from my makeshift scaffold, landing on the broken floor tiles in the interior. Wrenching my gloves from my hands, I tossed them aside and grabbed my twin into a hard hug.
It was only the two of us here this morning. We slapped each other’s backs then gazed up at the new framework.
“Gordain’s due any minute with the crossbeams. We’ll have a roof in no time.”
Ally kept his gaze on the grey sky beyond the roof. “You will.”
This again? “You’ve worked as hard as I have on this place. I can’t live in a four-bed house on my own.”
“Aye. I owe you the labour. But I’m nae moving in.” My twin stuck his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.
For almost a year, since I’d asked Callum, our oldest brother, if I could buy the derelict building from him, Ally had matched my efforts in rebuilding it.
Yet he refused to consider it his or contemplate moving in when it was done.
He had this daft idea that he owed me for shite that had happened when we were kids.
It was ridiculous, but he hadn’t changed his mind.
“Shut up,” I said maturely.
“You shut up.” Ally withdrew a hand from his pocket and shoved me.
“Fucker.” I punched his shoulder.
He ducked into a fighter’s pose, a smirk on his face.
I followed suit, the change from full-grown man to idiotic boy as natural as breathing.
We charged and clashed, grappling, trying to force the other to the ground.
Our scuffles always went the same way, us being identical in strength and size.
Only luck—or cheating—gave the other an advantage.
“Six weeks in America, and you’ve gone soft.” He tried a knee to my balls.
I dodged. “Mind your pretty face. I wouldnae want to lose you money.”
Ally modelled, his extrovert nature and swagger making him a perfect fit for runways. Luckily, he had us to keep him grounded so he hadn’t got vain. Yet.
He ducked to shoulder barge me. I grasped his forearms and dropped to the floor, taking him with me. Dust flew.
“Cheat!” Ally gasped, the wind knocked out of him.
“Who’s the soft one now?” I pinned him. Victory was mine. Almost.
A shadow fell over us from the doorframe.
“What the hell? Ye pair of flipping kids.”
We paused and raised our heads, breathing hard.
Gordain, our second-oldest brother, planted his hands on his hips, a quizzical brow raised. “You’d think with all this hard work, ye wouldnae have the energy to fight.”
I grunted and rolled away, edges of broken tiles digging into my back.
Ally loomed over me, his blond hair falling in his eyes. “What’s with ye? I don’t mind a scrap, but you’ve been burning up like no one’s business since you’ve been back.”
Sitting up, I hooked my arms around my knees. It was bothering me, everything that had happened that night. My brothers knew about the explosion and evacuation of the gala, but not about who I was with.
“Maybe it’s about a lass.”
Ally and Gordain exchanged a look.
“I wish I’d made a bet on that.” Ally sighed dramatically.
Gordain kept his gaze on me. “Go on.”
“Have ye ever turned a woman down? Ye know, one who was eager.”
“Aye,” Gordain said.
At the same time, Ally replied, “No. Are ye mad?”
Gordain pocketed his car keys and joined me on the floor, crossing his legs beneath him. “Who was the lass? Because there’s something I need to tell ye. Ella had a call from Taylor a couple of days ago.”
My phone blared and I jumped. I’d been expecting a call from a photographic agency I’d signed with; one I hoped would give me regular work.
“She did?” I replied to my brother, staring. My phone kept ringing. “Shite. Hold that thought. I need to get this. Hang on a sec.” Clambering up, I exited the crofthouse. Ahead, cool sunlight flickered over the glen and shone off the loch.
The remote spot, perched on the rise of Mhic Raith, the mountain in my brothers’ backyards, had the best views in the whole of the McRae lands. Both Castle McRae, Callum’s home, and Castle Braithar, Gordain’s place, were visible. I was surrounded by family but in my own space, too.
Even here I couldn’t get away from the lass’s name.
I faced the stiff breeze and answered the call. “Wasp McRae.”
“Wasp. This is Claire from Reportage One. I’m just processing your sign-up papers and, by strange coincidence, I have a job for you.”
“Already?”
“Have you heard of Viking Blue?”
They were the band I’d photographed at the Met. “Sure.”
She rattled on. “They came into the office we share with our sister company, PR One, and I happened to comment on your nickname, it being unusual. The singer overheard. He said he knew you. He booked you there and then.”
“He did?”
“You said you were available for international travel, correct? The tour starts in three days, but get to Paris at the latest by tomorrow evening because they need promo shots stat. Book yourself a flight to France, then you’ll drive between the rest of the European locations.
There’ll be space for you on one of the tour buses and a bed each night in a shared hotel room.
After that, you’ll need to be on a plane to the States. They are playing six dates there.”
I blinked, trying to catch up. Paris and the States. This was huge. “They’re on tour?”
“It was last minute. They’re supporting Hedonist. The original support band that had been booked pulled out.”
I’d heard of Hedonist. They were a huge US rock band. Go Viking Blue. What a turn up for them.
And for me.
A smile broke across my face. I’d expected to be home for longer, not jetting off to photograph rock stars, but this sounded like a lark.
Apart from one small aspect I wasn’t about to explain to them—no one wanted to hear about my screwed-up head. I took a breath and made a necessary request. “I’ll be there, but I’d prefer to drive myself between the gigs. Would that work?”
Claire paused. “I don’t see why not. You’ll need to make the arrangements, but it’ll be covered by expenses.”
“Book it in.”
“Details coming your way by email.” The agent hung up, and I pocketed my phone, still grinning.
In order to be free for any work that came my way, I’d submitted my final portfolio to the university and wrapped up my formal education yesterday.
This new job was a surprise but a welcome one.
On the road, I’d be too busy to keep up my obsession.
I’d be in places that had never heard of Taylor Vandenberg so there would be no reminders. Not like here.
I was almost afraid to ask Gordain to finish his sentence.
Back inside the shell of the crofthouse, I grinned at my brothers. “Guess who’s going on tour with a rock band tomorrow?”
Ally gave me his typical wide-mouthed grin, but his eyebrows dug in, and the smile was short-lived. “Nice. But I thought you’d be home for longer.”
“I did, too.” As boys, we’d always been together. As men, our lives took us apart more often than not. He’d likely be away on Fashion Week auditions when I returned. We kept missing each other.
I blew out a breath. “We’ll have to work our arses off to get this roof on.”
The two men grunted agreement, eyeing the frame.
“Ella will be busy for the next couple of days, so I’ll help. We’ll pull Cal in, too, and between us, we’ll get this place watertight,” Gordain said. Then he fixed me with his gaze. “Ella’s gone to the airport.”
“Aye?”
“That phone call was her friend coming to stay.”
I dragged my thoughts back from planning the roof battens and driving across Europe and stared. Still, I didn’t ask.
“Was it Taylor you saw in the US? The woman you turned down?” he asked.
A groan left me, acceptance dawning. “Yeah. Ah, fuck. She’s here?”
He inclined his head, his grey eyes keen.
“She didn’t call me. Or text,” I thought aloud.
“Probably because you turned her down,” Ally informed me. “You must’ve offended her.”
“It wasn’t like that.” There had been more involved than just our bodies. When I’d known her before, she’d been resilient and so determined. Nothing could hurt her. She’d been a bright spark, fun and dangerously attractive.
This time, I’d felt the attraction, but her spark had dimmed. “I would have been taking advantage. She’s got…life-changing stuff going on.”
Fuck it. I planted my arse against a low window, the stonework neat and intact—probably the only thing in the house that was. “It’s a good thing I’m leaving. I’ll stay out of her way until then.”
But I didn’t want to. I eyed my Land Rover parked outside and imagined the journey to Braithar, Gordain and Ella’s home.
I pictured welcoming Taylor with open fucking arms, begging forgiveness for acting like I had and resuming our old habit by taking her to a room with a locked door and giving her what she’d asked for.
Would one more time hurt?
She knew herself best. She’d wanted me. Needed comfort before she got herself tangled in whatever insane deal her father had strong-armed her into.
My brothers were both staring when I turned back around. My inner turmoil probably showed on my face because I already knew what I was going to do.
The good guy won out.
Every fucking time.