Chapter 28 #2
Heather can only imagine how Fraser will react to a stranger groping her by the front door, but any objection she might have is quashed.
Scott’s body is moving towards hers, and she can feel his heat and the want he has for her in every sinew.
He places a hand behind her head, and she can’t help but respond until Scott drops his bike helmet.
The corresponding clatter as it contacts the tiled floor reverberates around the hallway, and moments later, the door to the lounge opens.
‘Who the hell are you?’ asks Fraser.
‘What the fuck?’ says Scott.
SCOTT
Scott makes a swift mental note. He should never assume monogamy.
Even with someone he really, really likes.
Any woman, he reckons, can cheat on you with a plaid-wearing hulk.
Heather springs backwards, allowing cold air to circulate his body.
The chill from his condensing sweat penetrates his cooling muscles.
Not that he’ll let himself shiver, because this guy, this behemoth of Scottish beef, is stepping towards him with a furious look in his eye.
All of Scott’s fight-or-flight reflexes fire.
No wonder Heather assured him there was nothing going on with Gerry, not when she was stringing someone like this along.
Even as a straight guy, Scott can tell the bloke in front of him is an Adonis.
Heather stands between them, places her left hand on Scott’s chest and her right hand on the other bloke’s.
‘Fraser, this is Scott,’ she says, looking intently at the other bloke. Then she turns to him. ‘Scott, this is Fraser. My baby brother.’
Ah.
Every cell in Scott’s body floods with relief as Heather’s supposed baby brother visibly unclenches and draws his bottom lip between his teeth.
‘Scott,’ he says. Rolling the name around as if he’s doing a statistical calculation to assess its likely risk.
‘Remember?’ Heather says, ‘I told you about him.’
The muscle mass raises its shoulders and appears to maintain its pressure against Heather’s hand.
‘You remember Brianna, Georgia’s friend?
’ The lump of beef nods. ‘Well, this is her dad, Scott. We’ve been …
’ Scott watches with interest as Heather grapples for the words to describe what’s been going on between them for the last few weeks.
‘… seeing each other. I guess. Casually.’ She adds this last word as if it is an essential addition to appease him.
But instead of doing that, it jars. Is casual all they’re worth?
Heather’s brother regains his composure first. ‘Scott. Shit. Sorry. Bit protective of our Heather when it comes to men,’ he says in a broad Scots accent.
He extends his hand, and Scott accepts it. Fraser’s hand engulfs Scott’s, and the assertive shake, although friendly, tells Scott not to mess with Heather or he’ll have Fraser to answer to.
‘Nice to meet you, Fraser,’ Scott says, ‘sorry to drop in unannounced like this.’
‘No problem at all,’ Heather says, guiding them both into her lounge with a palm on each back. ‘It’s nice to see you, Scott. Fraser dropped in unannounced as well.’
Fraser takes Scott’s arrival as his cue to leave.
Heather stands on tiptoes to kiss her brother’s cheek.
‘Thanks for popping in,’ she says.
‘Sure thing. And remember. You’ll have Maisie in two weekends’ time when I’m in the Cairngorms with that tour group. Then the next day we’ll be at Mum and Dads.’
Heather’s excitement about the prospect of painting Maisie is palpable, but Scott notices her wince at the mention of the visit to her parents.
He glances around Heather’s living space as she sees her brother out.
There’s an easel and painting paraphernalia in the far corner of the living space; a pile of what looks like dirty clothing on the kitchen floor beside the washing machine; a half-filled bowl of homemade popcorn and two bottles of beer on the coffee table.
The dining room table is covered in piles of receipts weighed down in bundles with an assortment of paperweights: a stone, a mustard pot, a pale pink crystal and a bottle of nail varnish.
Heather’s computer, on the corner of the table, has gone into sleep mode.
Scott’s been here several times, and he’s never seen it so untidy.
Heather, he notices when she returns, is also more dishevelled than usual.
Her typically sleek hair is piled on top of her head in a messy top knot, and she pulls anxiously at the waist band of the pale grey jogging bottoms she’s wearing.
It doesn’t bother Scott, who’s more than happy to accept people as he finds them, but this isn’t Heather at her best.
‘You doing okay?’ he asks. The very idea that Heather could be anything other than brilliant terrifies him.
Heather’s eyes zoom around the room.
‘Honestly?’ she says, ‘not really. I’ve got an absolute stack of work to do for the year end, Fraser’s roped me into a day with my parents in two weeks, and I’ve given myself a deadline to get a new painting of his dog, Maisie, on the website in time for Easter.
So, no, it’s all feeling a bit overwhelming. ’
Scott lowers his head, humbled by his assumption that if he wanted to talk to her, all he needed to do was show up at her home unannounced.
He feels like a presumptive ass. He hadn’t asked, and he didn’t check in.
He wanted to see her and just assumed that she’d be there – ready, waiting and happy to accommodate him.
‘I’m an idiot,’ he says.
‘No. No. It’s nice to see you, honestly. It’s just that …’ He bends down to pick up the helmet that he’d placed on the dining room chair a moment ago. He moves it from one hand to the other, wondering how he can reclaim a bit of dignity.
‘You said you had something to tell me?’ She glances at his hands.
‘Yeah. But.’
‘Do you want a coffee? Tea? Some beer?’ Heather bends to move a pile of what must be ironing from the sofa onto a small table to create space for him to sit.
And suddenly, he knows what he wants.
‘No. I want to do this properly,’ he says with the assurance of a man who finally understands what he’s been refusing to believe for many weeks. ‘I want to take you on a proper date. To buy you some lovely food, to drink some fantastic wines. And to talk. And play cards. And watch shit on TV.’
There’s a beat as Heather places the pile of laundry on the table and then turns to face him.
‘Those aren’t the things we normally do, Scott.’
She doesn’t mention their agreement of having a casual, don’t-tell-the-girls arrangement, but her questioning of his motives says it all.
‘No, but what do you think? Could we do things just a bit differently? There’s stuff I want to talk to you about, Heather. Properly. At a time that suits us both.’
She frowns. ‘You’re sure?’
By the time he leaves, they agree he’ll come over to hers in two weekends’ time, and she’ll fit it in around seeing her parents with Fraser on the Sunday.
Heather will have completed the bulk of her work by then, and although she’ll be looking after Maisie, they can tweak their arrangements to accommodate it.
The fact their date clashes with Scott’s next cycle ride with Luca and the rest of the group is something he’s just going to have to work around.
They kiss passionately in the hallway, and when he eventually leaves, Scott has a sense that their relationship has moved into a new territory, and one his sister-in-law would approve of.
Scott himself couldn’t be happier. All he has to do is silence his long-held demons.
Lorraine’s right. It’s time.