30
30
Callum
Heather: Alistair came by my house to ask why you’re acting so weird.
You need to tell him!
Callum: Planning on it.
Callum: And, he thinks I’m acting weird?
I saw him this morning and barely got a word out of him.
Heather: I assumed he was brooding because Juniper won’t take his calls.
Callum: How many times has he called her exactly?
Heather: God, I hope for his sake no more than twice.
“Are you certain tonight is a good idea?”
“It’s a perfect idea.” Given my current view from where I lounged on Juniper’s bed, it might have been the best idea I’d ever had.
Arse in the air, scarves and shoes flew over her head as she rummaged through her messy wardrobe.
“I know they’re here somewhere … aha!” She spun on bare knees, holding the black shoes – which looked exactly the same as every pair of shoes she owned – triumphantly.
Her glee was short-lived because she scowled at where Shakespeare had curled up on my lap.
“I hate you both.”
She stomped over to the table, and I followed, scooping Shakespeare into my arms. The cat had certainly grown attached in the past few weeks, much to Juniper’s ever-growing annoyance.
“You’re being cute again.”
“ You’re being cute again ,” she mocked, proving my point as her voice dropped into what I assumed was a derogatory impersonation of me, but only reminded me of the rasp of her voice right before she came.
I wasn’t surprised to discover everything about Juniper appealed to me.
From the way she ate her breakfast cereal, taking one spoonful of milk to every crunch of the sugary hoops, to her fifty-seven-step nighttime routine.
She dropped the shoes with a shaky exhale.
I set down Shakespeare, moving to clutch her hands.
“Maybe we should stay in tonight, they won’t miss us,” I said carefully, worry starting to gnaw at my gut.
It was a Saturday, so I had an afternoon shinty game before the ceilidh tonight.
We’d agreed to arrive separately so as not to rouse suspicion, meaning I wouldn’t even have a chance to check in on her before it started.
My tone must have given me away because she finally looked at me, teeth gnawing her full lower lip.
“Have you changed your mind about telling Alistair?”
I smoothed my thumb over the small dent she’d made.
“Of course not.”
And I hadn’t.
Me and Juniper together.
For real . That was all I’d ever wanted.
But now I had her, the fear of losing her had become a physical weight that kept me up at night.
If someone asked me a month ago, I would have replied with arrogant certainty that I’d accept all or nothing when it came to Juniper Ross.
But now, I knew I’d deceive everyone I cared about for the rest of my life if it meant keeping this slice of perfection with her.
That she was willing to take this chance humbled me.
I kissed her forehead.
Her nose. Her lips. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
No matter how badly I wanted to update my relationship status with a text alert to every person in Scotland, I’d promised Juniper a soft launch and that’s what she’d get.
She hadn’t confessed to any deep or lingering feelings yet.
But she’d agreed to give this a real shot.
Publicly. That was enough for now.
“Good. Then we are going?”
With a sense of foreboding that I wrote off as pre-match nerves, I folded her into my chest. “We’re going.”
“Save a dance for me?” she whispered.
“They all belong to you.”
* * *
I arrived at the ceilidh early and it was fair to say I was in a foul fucking mood.
Ribs still screaming from the knock I’d taken in the opening twenty minutes of the game from the literal child marking me on the Inverness team.
I should have admitted defeat and subbed out like I’d have forced any of my teammates to do, but the wee prick’s sarcastic, “ Give up, old man ,” had kept me in the game to the bitter end.
I’d seen enough broken ribs in my life to know mine were only bruised, so hadn’t paused after the game to ice them, heading straight to my parents’ house to find Alistair had already left to help Mal set up.
From there I’d barely had time to race home and change if I wanted to arrive before Juniper.
In the tasting room, while April, Mal and Heather buzzed about, laying out food, helping the musicians with their gear then greeting the arriving villagers, I’d been content to let the bar April’s late grandfather had so lovingly crafted hold me aloft, pretending to nurse a glass of whisky, one eye firmly on the door as the minutes stretched into an hour.
She was late.
Lost in his own thoughts, Alistair stood silently beside me, looking every bit the handsome Scot in his kilt, the same dark green and purple weave as my own.
His coiling agitation was also a twin to mine.
His fingers drummed atop the bar, foot beating an unsteady rhythm into the floor, out of time to the music.
Ordinarily, I would have needled my baby brother with questions until he confessed to whatever was eating at him.
But not today, not when I suspected the answer lay in the reason for my own sweaty palms.
With every new arrival, laughter and the subtle scent of sweat pressed in.
My head spun and I rubbed at my tightening chest, imagining the flash of Juniper’s dark hair and wicked smile, the silent confirmation she hadn’t changed her mind.
Is this how Mal feels all the time?
Bloody hell. The strength it must take him just to step foot out his front door every morning.
I was one more fiddle solo away from ordering another drink when the back of my neck prickled, and I knew Juniper had arrived.
I glanced over my shoulder and the entire room blinked out of focus, every other person dulling to the greyscale of a black and white movie while she’d been painted over in intricately textured impasto strokes.
I’d seen her dressed to kill a hundred times before.
The woman wore clothes the way a medieval knight wielded a weapon.
So I shouldn’t have been so awed I almost s wallowed my own tongue as I took in the figure-hugging dress that had nearly brought me to my knees once before.
At her engagement party.
Finally. I must have spoken it aloud, because the word rumbled like an expletive.
Dropping my drink on the bar, I started to go to her.
But, wait – that voice didn’t belong to me.
Those weren’t my shoulders slicing intentionally through the crowd.
Juniper’s wide eyes found mine as Alistair approached, a question mark visible in the dark depths.
I shook my head roughly.
No. I haven’t told him.
I haven’t broken our agreement.
Her smile wobbled in relief.
I scrubbed a hand into my hair, unable to do anything but watch as he said, “Hey.” They stood thirty feet away in the middle of the dance floor, no way I could hear his words, but I was so attuned to her, he may as well have bellowed them down a long corridor.
“Will you kick me if I ask you to dance?”
Did he even recognise the dress?
Juniper’s gaze found mine over his shoulder and I met it with unflinching intensity.
Yes, you got me, harpy.
I’m beyond fucking jealous.
Come here to me before I drop to my knees and start begging.
Her brows rose at whatever she found on my face, posture stiffening as she finally noted every person in the room drinking in their interaction.
Noticing too, Alistair winced but extended a hand, saying something that made her lips tip down before …
Fuck , Duncan from the hardware store stepped in front of me, his too large head cutting off my view.
Fucking Duncan .
I strained my neck, clutching my ribs as the action pulled at the injury, just in time to see her place her hand in Alistair’s.