Chapter 10 Tilda #2
“I’m surprised the island drums haven’t alerted you,” he says after a moment, then follows them through a door that leads into a cosy, untidy kitchen.
“We’ve been away in Donegal seeing my sister.” Dervla fills the kettle as she speaks. “Only got back on the late boat last night.”
“And then we were so tired from the drive we went straight to bed,” continues Mhairi, “and then got up this lunchtime for a walk to clear our heads, and it’s lucky we did because we found Nori in trouble on the beach, and then we met—”
“We haven’t even been introduced,” says Dervla. “How rude we are.”
“This is Tilda,” says Finn. “Fortunately, she left her delinquent hound at home this time.”
“It’s a protected area,” I protest. “I can read.”
One brow arches upwards as he looks at me with a dubious expression.
“I missed one sign.”
He tips his head slightly and I catch the hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Quite an important one,” he says, his eyes still holding mine.
“You’re a marvel, Finn.” Dervla motions to the sink and passes me a towel. “If you weren’t so bloody contrary, I’d bake you a cake to say thank you.”
“I’m allergic to gratitude.”
I stand beside him at the sink, washing my hands.
Our elbows bump and neither of us moves away immediately.
I can feel the warmth radiating from him, and the smell of peat smoke that clings to his sweater.
I pass him the towel and our fingers brush, his eyes meet mine for a second, and my pulse jumps.
He accepts it with a gruff thanks and looks away.
“Here we are.” Mhairi pours tea from the pot a couple of minutes later. “Get that inside you. We don’t stand on ceremony here,” she adds, popping open a metal tin. “Have some cake. It’s all the way from Donegal.”
There’s washing hanging on a wooden rack over the log burner, which is giving off a cosy warmth.
Outside, the threatened rain has started, and it batters the fogged windowpanes.
I cup my hands around my mug while the two women peel off their waterproofs and toss them on an old chair by the fire, teasing Finn as if they’ve known him forever.
He leans against the doorframe, one arm stretched out, mug cradled in his huge hand as he listens with the faintest curve to his mouth.
It’s not the granite mask I’m used to but something easier, and softer.
When Dervla makes a joke, he actually laughs, a real laugh, not the huffed snort I’ve heard before.
“So, what’s he got you doing up at the distillery?” Mhairi says, coming to sit beside me at the table. She looks at Finn with her eyes narrowed. “Are you behaving yourself?”
Finn folds his arms and looks at me with something I can’t quite read in his dark eyes. I feel my stomach flip over and drop his gaze, fiddling with the coffee mat on the table, suddenly aware that my face is heating.
“I’m doing some temporary work on the garden,” I say, putting an emphasis on the word temporary.
“Ohh,” Mhairi nods. “Is this Operation Charm What’s-her-name from the tourist board?”
“Precisely.” Finn drains his mug and walks across the kitchen to rinse it in the sink. He’s so tall and broad that he blocks the little light from the window, casting us all in gloom.
“And how is it going? We’ll have to come up for a look. You’ve got your work cut out there.”
“I’ve got a plan,” I say, and Finn gives a snort.
I glare at him while Mhairi and Dervla look the other way.
“Right now, I’m trying to clear the place. It’s been completely neglected,” I add pointedly. “So, before I can actually make a difference, I need to uncover the bones of the garden.”
“This, I have to see.” Mhairi leans over and takes a slice of fruitcake from the tin, breaking it in half and passing one piece to Dervla.
“Surprised you didn’t hire an archaeologist, not a gardener, Finn.”
He sighs as they laugh in unison.
“As long as we can get the place respectable in time for the inspection. That’s all I’m concerned about.”
“And once you’ve got the place up to scratch, what are you going to do about the upkeep?”
He frowns and looks at me as if the idea hadn’t crossed his mind.
I shrug and give a bright smile. “Luckily, he’s got another few weeks to work that out.”
I drain my tea and get up, setting the mug on the counter. “I should get back, Flora will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
“Your little dog?”
Finn gives a half-snort, half-laugh. “That thing is many things, but little is not one of them.”
“She’s a basset hound,” I explain, twirling the car keys on my finger.
“You must bring her next time,” Dervla says, surprising me by wrapping me in a one-armed half-hug. “Not to the nesting beach, mind, but bring her up for a visit. We’ll give her biscuits.”
“She’d like that.”
Mhairi winks. “And you can be on call for the next seal rescue.”
“We’ll give you a proper look around the next time.”
“That would be lovely,” I say politely, slipping into my jacket.
“I’ll see you out.”
Glad to get me out of his hair, Finn follows me to the door, the spaniels padding silently at his heels. Outside the rain has eased and there’s just a fine haze of drizzle floating on the wind.
He doesn’t say anything until I’m halfway down the path.
“You did well.”
I glance back, startled. He’s standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow from inside, one shoulder leaning against the frame. He’s not smiling, but something in his voice is real enough to make me stop. There’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before, approval, yes, but something else.
“Thanks,” I manage, and my voice comes out quieter than I intend.
The space between us feels both too wide and not wide enough. He shifts his weight, opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else, and I hold my breath without meaning to.
Then there’s a sound from inside the house and the moment breaks.
“Drive safely,” he says, stepping back into the house.