4
4
Juniper
Fiona: We’ve docked in Lisbon for the day.
Fiona: Everything okay at home?
TWO MISSED CALLS FROM FIONA
Juniper: Why wouldn’t it be okay?
Fiona: Hank sounded weird on the phone.
Juniper: He’s always weird.
Juniper: And stop calling Hank.
You’re supposed to be having fun, remember?
A conversation with Hank sits somewhere between anal waxing and hugging a rabid badger on the fun scale.
Fiona: Don’t say anal , Juniper.
It’s uncouth.
“Shit.” Mal kicked at the soaked area of rug with the toe of his boot while April scowled like an angry kitten from our spot in the hall.
I couldn’t be sure how they’d gotten wind of the situation, though I had a good idea from whom.
I didn’t have time to focus on that right now.
In the few hours since floodgate, I’d launched into full fix-it mode.
Moving the few guests as far away from the damage as possible, comping rooms where needed, all the while ignoring Hank’s stream of lectures and threats to call my mother.
“ Three days, Juniper Ross. Your mother has been gone for three bloody days and the place is falling down around our ears. Are you targeting my kitchen next? ”
Yes, yes, I’d fucked up.
I didn’t need to be reminded in quite so explicit terms. And Fiona was the least of my worries right now.
“Shit is right,” I agreed.
Straightening, Mal flushed as though he’d forgotten I was in the room.
“I mean—”
I waved him off.
“We managed to shut the water off before it caused too much damage, but this room and the one above are just about fucked.”
Moving to my side, April curled her arm around my back in that comforting way that came so easily to her.
“I’m so sorry. I know how much time you put into this.” Luckily, I wasn’t the wallowing type, or I might have barricaded myself inside my cottage.
April dared a step further inside.
Mal held out a staying hand.
“Wait until we know the ceiling is secure, princess.”
“ You’re in there,” she said.
Mal’s eyes flicked to me and he swallowed twice.
I smirked at this little show of his protective streak.
Six months ago, I wouldn’t have suspected he had it in him.
Then again, six months ago I knew next to nothing about the shy whisky distiller who had almost been my brother-in-law.
Then April had returned to Skye, full of love and life and in need of her own escape.
Exactly what he needed.
It was clear to anyone with eyes that he was head over heels for her.
He would remain on my good list so long as that smile graced her lips.
I was actually starting to like the man.
The notion didn’t sit well.
“I have a harder head than you,” he replied.
“Not true.” She reclined against the door, folding her arms across her middle.
“I read all of your creepy anatomy books, it’s a scientific fact that women have thicker skulls than men.”
Shock slackened his features.
“When?”
“I read a chapter every time you’re in the shower … What? I want to know what interests you so much.”
I was thirty years old and could honestly say, despite the crap romance movies might spout, I’d never seen a man melt in real life …
until now. Mal’s entire body softened, eyes crinkling at the corners, lips pulling into a crooked smile that belonged solely to April.
I cleared my throat.
“I don’t know what sick kind of foreplay gets you two hot, but can we focus please?”
His cheeks reddened again.
“Right, sorry.” I had the sneaking suspicion the youngest Macabe male was a little afraid of me.
“Oh, come on.” April nudged me with her elbow.
“We’re adorable.”
They were adorable.
So adorable being in the same room as them was enough to get a toothache.
“You’re definitely something .” She stuck her tongue out and I smiled for the first time in hours.
“Do you have a ladder?” Mal asked.
I nodded and left to retrieve it from the cleaning supply cupboard.
By the time I returned April had fully ignored Mal’s warning, squelching through the light layer of water with a mop and bucket in hand.
Mal watched her, a puckered little frown between his brows, but offered no further complaint.
Folding the A-style ladder out, I handed it over to him, observing as he climbed high enough to prod at the wet plaster around the gilded light fixture.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Not a clue.”
I laughed dryly.
“That makes two of us.”
He paused, brows crinkling.
“You turned the electricity off, right?”
“Yes. As soon as I shut off the water.”
“And Murray didn’t hang around to check any of this himself?”
Needing to be doing something, I snatched up the spare mop, soaking up as much water as I could and squeezing it out into the bucket.
Trying not to dwell on the watermarks staining the original hardwood flooring.
“He offered, but honestly I just wanted them gone.”
“Understandable.” Mal had a way of talking that was completely unlike his three siblings.
Short pauses between statements that let you know he considered every word that came out of his mouth.
Careful . That’s how I’d describe him.
Careful and dependable.
My best friend’s gentle heart deserved to be in careful and dependable hands.
“I can’t believe that old goat thought he could get away with instructing his untrained grandsons on the job. He should lose his licence,” April said.
“I’ll settle for my money back.”
“Want me to threaten him?” Mal delivered the words so earnestly, only the wry tilt to his lips revealed he was joking.
“No assistance necessary. If he’s attached to his balls, he’ll give me my money back.”
“Gross.” April shuddered.
“Please can we not talk about his wrinkled old man ball sack. That image is now seared on the back of my eyelids.”
Mal hopped down from the ladder, boots squelching so loudly, we all winced.
“The plaster seems stable enough and I wouldn’t turn the electric back on any time soon, but … what the hell do I know?”
It felt cruel to point out I’d already figured that much out for myself.
So I simply nodded.
“I could maybe help with the floor.” He scratched the side of his jaw.
April was already shaking her head, red curls coiling loose from her braid.
“Remember the last time you attempted woodwork?”
“I thought you loved the bench.”
“ I do . But June probably won’t appreciate a health code violation at her inn.”
“Right.” He nodded.
“We’ll stick around and clean up.”
“Have you found another plumber?” April asked, wringing water from her mop before repeating the motion.
“No. Everyone on the island is booked right through autumn. That’s the only reason I hired Murray at all. I might be forced to call an emergency plumber from the mainland.”
They both winced.
It would cost me a small fortune in travel expenses alone.
But I didn’t see what other option I had.
“I never should have started this.” I said.
Hating to admit what an absolute fuck I was, even to my friends, but today had sucked away all remaining pride.
“Of course you should,” April shot back.
“You’ve put everything into this place since your dad passed, you deserve to see it thrive.”
I wasn’t sure that was true.
How on earth could I be capable when I hadn’t even lasted a week without Fiona?
The past six years I’d thought she needed me, but what if the opposite was true?
And I was clinging on too tightly to people who would be better off without me?
“There’s no way I can get the repairs done before she gets home.”
“So what if you can’t? She’s your mum. She’ll be pissed off, but she won’t stop loving you.” I scrubbed at the floor, refusing to point out that April herself knew that statement wasn’t always true.
“We can help,” she offered.
“And the rest?”
April quieted, biting her lip.
It was Mal who surprised me by saying, “You could ask my brother.”
He sensed my astonishment because his features slackened under the eerie silence before I stupidly blurted, “Which brother?”
Unless Alistair had taken on a new vocation since we’d last spoken – very unlikely – he didn’t mean him.
And the other? No way.
Perhaps he had another brother I wasn’t aware of.
“ Callum —”
Even his name irritated me.
“No.”
At my brisk shut-down his eyes flicked to April who supplied, “That’s in direct violation of Juniper’s rules.”
Rules I’d violated only this morning.
All attempts at silencing her with my death stare failed because she was already ticking off her fingers, “Don’t think about the Macabe men. Don’t talk to the Macabe men. Don’t look at the Macabe men.”
“You don’t qualify,” I cut in pointedly.
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a compliment.” April tucked herself into his side and his arms automatically curled around her.
“A high one coming from Juney.”
“Don’t call me Juney .”
“But it suits you perfectly. Like a fluffy little kitten.”
Sweet hell.
Refusing to dignify that statement with a response, I rounded on Mal.
“He plumbs?” Of course he does .
He saved furry little animals for a living and helped out around the village.
Didn’t anyone else see what a smug bastard he was?
“Of course ‘Community Ken’ plumbs.”
From the corner of my eye I caught Mal mouth to April, “ Community Ken? ”
“He reminds her of a Ken doll.” I threw another glare that she ignored.
“He fitted a new toilet and sink into the tasting room for us last month, he did a fantastic job.”
How did I not know that about him?
I don’t know why that was the detail my mind kept circling back to.
Callum was the epitome of every arsehole guy I’d gone to university with.
Charming, athletic and all too capable on the surface.
The kind of guy who wanted to bed the alt girl just to see what she was like in the sack and then brag about it to his friends.
I wasn’t mad at him for the incident in Glasgow …
okay, I was mad that he’d waited until he had me spread and desperate for him on his front seat, just to prove he could , before seemingly growing a conscience.
I refuse to do something I’ll regret in the morning .
An absolute arsehole move I could have moved past.
But I was angry that he’d so easily brushed it aside when that night had wrecked me and left me questioning everything.
I was furious that the first time I bumped into him in Brown’s after his move back to Kinleith, he’d dragged his eyes down the length of me, like he’d recently acquired X-ray vision, and said, “ Amazing to see you again.” Then whispered in my ear, “What colour today, harpy?”
He never let me forget.
Not once.
But I was more annoyed at myself for letting things go that far.
“Wonderful. Still not asking him.” My mop worked more viciously.
“I’d rather the roof cave in than ask Callum Macabe for help.”
“You’re in room three on the first floor.” I slid the brass room key over the desk to our newest guest – Mr Damien Lewis, according to his booking information – thankful that his late check-in meant he’d missed the craziness of the day.
One less guest to compensate.
“Take the stairs and it’s the second door on the right.”
Grinning, he ran his thumb over the rounded bow.
“I didn’t know hotels still used real keys. It’s all swipe cards and QR codes these days.” His thick black hair and rich accent hinted at his Welsh heritage.
I gave him my friendliest smile.
The one Fiona complained was too toothy, like an alligator.
“We like to do things the old-fashioned way around here.”
“Never said it was a bad thing.” He crossed thick arms atop the front of the high desk, settling in.
This was the reason I usually let Fiona and our part-time receptionist, Ada, handle the check-ins.
I detested chit-chat.
“Remember to mention that in your glowing review.” I drummed my fingers against the wood for effect.
He laughed as if I’d delighted him.
“You’re funny.”
Now I knew he was lying.
I’d been called many things in my life, funny was rarely one of them.
This wasn’t the first time a guest had attempted to flirt with me.
Despite Fiona’s encouragement, I would never go there.
Even if he was handsome with a full head of black curls and a smile that suggested he knew exactly how long it’d been since I had a man in my bed.
Mixing business with pleasure rarely ended well.
The door at his back opened and closed, probably another guest returning for the night.
I jumped on the interruption and gestured to the stairs.
“Breakfast starts at eight a.m., hang your menu card on your door and I’ll put your order in with the chef.” An obvious but polite dismissal.
One I could have sworn he was about to ignore until a throat cleared.
Our heads swivelled in perfect synchronisation.
“Macabe.”
Grin firmly in place.
Tanned arms crossed over navy scrubs.
Hair wind-ruffled or possibly finger-raked after a long day.
Callum Macabe looked …
he looked …
“I heard you needed me, neighbour.”
Smug .
He looked smug.
Ignoring him, I turned back to Mr Lewis.
“Can I help you with anything else?”
“Any excursions you’d recommend? I plan to see as much of the island as possible.”
“Oh,” I floundered slightly.
Again, this was why I preferred Fiona to handle this part.
I wasn’t exactly the outdoorsy type.
Too aware of Callum’s stare, I riffled through the nearest drawer, returning with the stack of leaflets Fiona and Ada handed out to guests.
Unable to recall the personal recommendations they usually offered, I silently held the stack out.
He leafed through them slowly, then tucked the wad of paper into a pocket.
“Have a pleasant evening, Mr Lewis. Reception closes at ten p.m., but there’s an emergency contact in your room should you need it.”
“And if I call it, will you pick up?”
I laughed in surprise.
The man had some balls, I’d give him that.
“Goodnight, Mr Lewis.”
With a final crooked smile, he hefted his small luggage bag over his shoulder and took the stairs.
Callum watched him leave, a small notch creasing the skin between his brows.
When his attention returned to me, the room felt smaller, like his presence had somehow depleted the square footage by several feet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked after a long moment.
“This morning wasn’t enough, you needed to go for round two?”
That smirk I detested played on his lips again.
The one he reserved solely for me.
With everyone else, he was playful but endlessly polite.
Community Ken. Kind Ken.
Can’t do enough for you Ken.
His blue eyes lit, as warm and untrustworthy as a Scottish summer day.
“I don’t think we’ll ever have enough, harpy. But I heard on the grapevine you need my help.”
“You heard wrong.”
He tsked.
“I don’t think so. My source is very reliable.”
Bloody Heather.
She’d called around this afternoon and stated multiple times that she was firmly aboard the “ask Callum to fix it” train.
“The only thing this village is missing is a bloody phone tree,” I muttered.
“We already have one.” He stalked closer, until his thighs were flush with the desk.
“I wonder why no one invited you to join?”
I willed myself not to react to what was so obviously an attempt to get a rise from me, turning back to the computer and wiggling the mouse inanely.
“Heather has it wrong. I’ve got it covered.”
“Really? By whom?”
I clicked, opening a random file and pretending to read.
I hated the way he towered over me in this position but there was no way I could stand without admitting that his proximity affected me.
“It’s not been decided, but I have some promising candidates.”
“Not one that can get it done before your mum returns, I bet.” He folded his arms, still sprinkled with summer freckles, across the desk.
The same way Mr Lewis had.
We were finally eye to eye, and it was somehow worse.
Ignoring the jump of my pulse, I shoved his arms back over the other side.
That smirk only grew.
“I’m not hiring some cowboy that renos as a hobby.”
“Cowboy?” I swear I witnessed the joke take form in his eyes.
“As I recall, you were the one ready to do the riding.”
Arsehole.
Too attractive, conceited arsehole .
I launched to my feet, hands slamming on the desk.
“Get. Out.”
Of course he didn’t budge.
“I’ll even do it for free.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m a nice guy.” He said it like a fact.
Sky is blue, grass is green, oh, and didn’t you hear?
Callum Macabe is a swell guy.
“Ah, the self-proclaimed nice guy .”
His heavy brows drew in.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“They never do.” Anger leached into my tone, giving me away.
I was seething, arms folded across my chest to stop me from wringing his neck.
If it wasn’t for the desk separating us, I’d already be on him.
He must not have sensed the danger because he bent closer, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Full disclosure, it turns me on when we fight.”
My stomach whooshed.
“You’re disgusting.”
“ Yes . Just like that.” His eyes closed and he let out a low, ridiculously sensual moan.
“Pretend I’m your husband and you’re pissed because I didn’t pick up my dirty socks. No wait – I didn’t load the dishwasher correctly.”
“You’re a grown man, pick up your own damn socks!” Why was I feeding this ridiculous scenario?
He was trying to throw me off kilter and I’d walked straight into the trap.
“Is that your dream relationship, Macabe? No wonder you’re single and nearly forty.” Cruelty coated the words like syrup.
“It’s a hypothetical, harpy. I can look after myself and the woman in my bed. I happen to enjoy caretaking.” He let the image those words conjured marinade in my mind.
“And I’m single because that’s the way I like it.” Oh, I bet he did.
I bet the women he spoke of enjoyed it too.
“I think it’s time to go.”
He assessed me, but then nodded.
“Think about my offer.”
“Why? What do you get out of this?”
He shrugged.
“I can’t be neighbourly?”
“ I see . It’s leverage you can hold over my head.”
“ Jesus , you’re cynical. Think of it as a family offer.”
“We aren’t family.” We may have been close to that once, but those bonds had strained long ago.
And torn completely when I almost let him inside me.
“My brother is practically married to your best friend.”
“They’ve been dating for three months.”
“And he already has a ring stashed in his sock drawer—” His lips curled around his teeth like he could suck the words back in.
Then he held up a finger.
“Keep that to yourself.”
“Mal’s going to propose? That’s way too soon.”
He glowered at my obvious disapproval.
“They’re happy and if they get engaged it’s no one’s business but theirs. Don’t get involved.”
Did he truly think I would?
That because I’d given up on love, I would spread that onto my friend?
I believed in happy endings for people like April.
As fresh and lovely as a summer daisy, she was quick to laugh and even quicker to forgive.
Easy to like and impossible not to love.
Whereas I was … wrong .
Like an ill-fitting pair of shoes that looked good in the store but pinched your toes and left behind blisters.
An exciting diversion for a night, until they cut themselves on my sharp angles.
The rough before the real thing.
Too cold. Too closed off.
Too much yet not enough in all the ways that mattered.
As a child, I’d wanted to gain the weight of unwavering love so badly; I’d felt as if I bore a mark of desperation like a tattoo on my forehead.
Practising pleasing smiles in the mirror until my cheeks ached.
For all the good it did.
My unlovable nature felt like a poisoned apple in a fruit bowl, waiting to see who’d bite next.
Refusing to look at him, I nodded to the door.
“I’ll give your offer some thought.”
“You’ll think about it?” He hooted a laugh as though I were the most amusing person he’d ever met.
There was a lot of that going around tonight.
“Harpy, you aren’t going to find a better offer than this. Call me when you come to your senses.”