Stepping out of the car at the Thistle & Tartan, the first thing I register is the sound of a drill… I think. My power tool knowledge is not extensive, but I’m pretty sure it’s a drill.
Curious, I grab Lennox’s hand and relish the fact that he still lets me do this—at least when his friends aren’t around—and lead him through the garden toward the side of the inn. The sound gets louder as we approach the arch in the hedge that leads to the swing and side door to the kitchen.
When we walk through, it takes me a minute to understand what I’m seeing. Where the bench swing used to face the front garden, perpendicular to the inn, it’s been moved to face the kitchen—sitting closer to the hedge—and next to it is a new structure. And there’s a large tire sitting next to it on the grass.
All of that would be enough to make me pause, but the thing that brings me up short is Jamie. Shirtless. Arms lifted above his head as he holds the drill to the piece of wood connecting the side braces to the top.Holy shit. His triceps flex, muscles tightening along his torso, his focus solely on the project before him, blissfully unaware of his audience. Of me.
It’s a warm day by Scotland standards and a drip of sweat glides down his chest, then lower toward the waistband of his jeans that hang loosely at his hips. I follow its path over the ridges of his abdomen and feel my own stomach tighten in response. This is obscene… And so fucking hot. I should cover Lennox’s eyes or something.
Before I can blink out of my stupor, he lowers his arms and uses one hand to push his unruly, sweat-drenched, auburn hair from his face. Then his eyes land firmly on me.
The stare pins me in place, fire blazing underneath my skin. I swallow thickly and so does he, based on the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
Bloody hell, this wasnotwhat I signed up for today.
“Hey,” he says, a smirk quirking up the side of his lips.
“Hey—hi. We, uh, heard the noise,” I stammer. “Came to investigate.”
“What’re you building?” Lennox asks, and I finally pull my eyes away from Jamie’s face, only for them to move six inches lower to his bare chest… Again. God, the man is fit. He was in good shape as a teenager even if he was more bookish than he ever was sporty, but this is not the same body I knew all those years ago. No, this is not a boy’s bodyat all. This is a man’s body, and I want to kick myself for how feral I am at the sight of it.
For god’s sake, get a grip, Avi.
I turn my attention to Lennox and hope that my cheeks, hot with embarrassment and lust, will cool. This is what I get for being the equivalent of a nun in the dating department for the past ten years.
“Grandad wanted Lennox to have a tire swing—like we had. He said he couldn’t grow up around the inn without one. So…” He shrugs, arms opening as he rotates right and left, indicating exactly what he was doing.
“You’re building Lennox a tire swing?” I ask, my heart gravitating to my throat. There’s also a sting behind my eyes. I blink rapidly and drop my head back to stem my tears.
“Grandad obviously couldn’t do it, and this place really isn’t the same without one.” His gaze is questioning, one eyebrow raised as he watches me try to keep it together.
“Aye, it isn’t.” I sniff, still keeping those pesky tears at bay. “Is this what you’ve been doing all weekend?”
His only answer is a small smile and a nod.
We mostly avoided the inn the last few days. Enjoying the time with my parents, visiting restaurants my mum used to love, going on hikes and adventures. I didn’t expect to come back and discover that Jamie spent his weekend building a tire swing for my son.
For his son.
“Mum? Why’re you crying?” Lennox asks, an incredulous look on his face.
“I’m not,” I say, but I totally am. “I-I’m just feeling a little nostalgic is all.” I pull him against me and he offers a chuckle and an eye roll.
“Girls…” Lennox says under his breath, exchanging a look with Jamie, who stifles a laugh behind his hand.
I shoot him a glare, but there’s no bite to it. No, there’s only softness in me right now for this man… And maybe something else stirring too, butthatI’m going to ignore. Entirely.
Now I just need him to put on a damn shirt so I can do so.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jamie – Eleven Years Ago
Turns out Grandad needs the Land Rover today. So, Avi and I pile into the campervan with an absurd amount of snacks, a specially packed picnic lunch courtesy of the T&T Pub (aka Grandad), and strict instructions from both sets of grandparents to be home by dinner at eight.
It’s over an hour to Portree and then a bit past that to the Old Man of Storr—a really cool rock formation and hike I’ve only ever done with my parents.
The old campervan is simple but functional, with captain’s chairs in the front for the driver and passenger while the back has been converted into storage and a sleeping space. It’s nicer than it sounds with a tartan duvet that Gran made tucked in over soft pillows.
