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In any case, she wasn’t in sight now, and Jackson and I loaded into our cars and followed Ben out into the snowy roads for the evening work we’d signed up for.
A short drive later, we were pulling up outside a long, white, single-storey building with spindly wooden columns holding up a front porch which stretched the length of the frontage. Despite the shelter, some of the panes of glass in the windows were broken.
It was probably old accommodation of some kind, run-down, but in the prettiest spot. Below us, a half-iced-over river meandered around a Scottish Highlands hillside. Beyond, the glen gave way to a thick stand of lightly frosted fir trees, their dark green the only pop of colour in the winter landscape.
I could watch that view all day.
It was even possible to see Castle Braithar where Leo, our rock-star client, and his family lived, plus a few other houses dotted here and there.
“Whose place is this?” I asked, my boots crunching into the snow.
“No one’s yet,” Ben replied. “Gordain had it on a list of properties to be renovated as potential housing but hasn’t got round to finishing the task.”
Gordain was father-in-law to Leo, and Ben’s boss. The older man usually came out with our crew and was fitter than most of us, despite being over sixty.
“The roof’s new,” Ben went on. “One of the back walls was rebuilt and underfloor heating put in. The front door’s been stuck tight since, though. There’s windows to install, a pile of rubble that needs shifting, and a whole load of other shite to get these liveable.”
“These?” I asked.
“It’s been divided into two homes, both two-bed. A good starter for small families.”
I eyed the task then kicked one of the porch struts, rotten wood flying in a chunk. “It’s a few days’ work.”
“Hard work never bothered ye,” Ben replied.
I shrugged, dismissing the familiarity I didn’t want to share. “Never said it did. Got tools? Materials?”
“Ready and waiting.” He indicated to his car.
I glanced at Jackson who shrugged, already tugging on gloves.
The only thing I couldn’t stand was having nothing to do. Ever. It left me restless. A typical evening saw me working out, or heading to the pub with Jackson, or even fighting with a couple of the airmen who liked a rumble.
“Let’s get it done,” I decided.
Ben opened his car, and we started extracting a plethora of tools and shite.
Another vehicle pulled up. Daisy climbed out, another lass following, both bundled up in winter coats.
My roommate. My pretty, blonde spy.
I stood taller, shoulders back.
“This is it,” Daisy said. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it will.”
She added something too low for me to hear, but my mind was working overtime. So this project was to give my brand-new fantasy woman somewhere to live. Which meant she’d be hanging around.
Adrenaline filled me, and I turned away to carry a circular saw into the house, keeping my head down so she wouldn’t see my dumbass grin. I could sniff out a new friend at fifty paces, and she had fun written all over her.
From my pocket, my phone buzzed with a text. I grabbed it and peered at the screen.
Kelly: I know it’s been a long time, but I need to talk to you. Can you call me?
Fucking hell.
My stomach seized up.
My ex hadn’t messaged me in years. We didn’t speak, despite the fact she worked for my parents at their inn thousands of miles away in the States. Whenever I went there, I avoided her. I’d spent months in Washington State after leaving the military and managed not to have that confrontation once, living for most of the time in a cabin in the woods.
