23. Chapter 23 #3
Freya eventually shouts to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, folks!” she calls. “Find your seats for dinner!”
As everyone heads for their seats, I grab another round for me and Beau. When I get to our table, he’s standing by his chair, waiting for the ladies to sit before he does. I love that about him. The quiet courtesy.
Once everyone is seated, Freya taps the microphone.
Conversations quiet as she welcomes us all and thanks everyone for attending, reminding us which charity will benefit from the ticket and silent auction sales.
Then the band strikes up a lively tune, and servers begin weaving between tables with the first course.
We’re at a table with my parents and several of their friends, and I try not to stare at Beau as Mum and Dad tell him all about Hogmanay. Kieron, one of my dad’s best mates, joins in.
“I’ll be first footing tonight,” he says, a hint of Scottish in his Ghanaian accent. “Drove in from Aberdeen just for this.”
“What does first footing entail?” Beau asks, giving Kieron his undivided attention.
“Well, the first person to enter the home in the new year is called the first-footer. It’s usually a tall, dark, and handsome man, and they don’t come much taller or darker than me.”
“Or as handsome,” his wife says, resting her hand on his.
“Thank you, my love,” Kieron says, taking her hand and kissing it. They’ve been married over thirty years, having emigrated from Ghana together, and their love burns bright as ever.
“Anyway,” Kieron continues, “this strapping gentleman carries coal, whisky, and shortbread across the threshold to usher warmth, good cheer, and prosperity into the home for the new year.”
“Do you mind if we add salt to the bundle?” I ask.
Kieron looks over at me. “Salt?”
“Aye,” I say. “It’s not as common now, but it was part of the original tradition.”
Beau, ever curious, asks, “What does salt symbolize?”
“It means different things in different parts of the country,” I tell them, assuming my teacher voice.
“Salt was used to preserve meat and fish, so it symbolizes stability and provision to some. Others sprinkle it on the threshold before they pass over and see it as a way of ritually cleansing the home to ward off witches and bad luck.”
Kieron nods. “You’re the expert, lad. I’ll be sure to sprinkle some salt on the doorstep on my way in. Can’t hurt then, can it?”
Beau gives my thigh a gentle squeeze under the table, sending a chaotic wave of butterflies through my stomach. I look his way, and the look he gives me, filled with so much fondness, has my breath catching. I sit in contented silence after that, allowing Beau to charm everyone at the table.
After dinner, he guides me over to the silent auction, his hand on my lower back. The thought of anyone seeing us like this, thinking we’re together sends a thrum of excitement and nerves through my system.
My cheeks heat as we browse along the tables.
Beau bids on a bespoke Speyside whisky tour with tuigsear and concert tickets to see Skerryvore, which he knows is one of my favorite bands.
Then he sees an oil painting of Highland cows grazing by a well-known local artist, the current bid already over ￡2,000.
“Freya said the proceeds go to childhood education programs about Highland history and to teach Scottish Gaelic, right?” Beau asks.
“Aye,” I say. “Why?”
“Because I know how important this organization must be to you,” he says and writes in a bid of ￡10,000. “And if it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.”
Those aren’t the words of a colleague. They could be those of a friend, but in this moment, and with that look in his eyes, it seems like more. Much more.
Once again, Beau has set himself apart from James, who came from a wealthy family, yet generosity hadn’t been one of his defining traits.
In fact, he often spoke about money with a quiet superiority—small, cutting remarks about people who had less.
Sometimes those remarks seemed directed at my own family.
Beau holds my gaze, looking at me like he’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t decipher it. The night in Inverness, the way everything seemed to shift between us… tonight carries the same feeling.
My mind races. If we kiss again, will he back away from me like last time? Will it be worth it if he does? I want to have fun and enjoy whatever is happening, but—
Freya’s voice booms over the microphone.
“Everyone please welcome to the stage, our piper for the night. My handsome baby brother, Torin Ramsay!”
“You’d better go,” Beau says over the applause, those blue eyes twinkling again.
“Aye, I’d better,” I say, pulling myself from his intense gaze and walking toward the stage, my mind still tangled with questions about what exactly is happening between us.
Halfway there I glance back. He’s still watching me intently as he applauds with the crowd, dissolving any resolve I had to keep Beau at a distance. Because I know from the way my heart stutters that I would give just about anything to feel his body pressed against mine one more time.