Hamish had tried to be unobtrusive when he set down the fondue with its lit candle on the low table between them, but Murray made a point of asking his old schoolfriend whether he knew if there really were going to be any northern lights tonight.
‘Twenty per cent chance, according to my aurora app,’ Hamish shrugged, leaving napkins, two long-handled prongs, and all kinds of things to dip in the melted cheese. ‘Let me know if the flame dies.’
Kurt had grinned and chucked a large bit of melty sauce with bread into his mouth as if to say there was no chance of the fire dying on this date.
Murray cleared his throat nervously. ‘Can we have two more beers, please, Hamish?’
‘Wauw, this so good!’ Kurt said through a mouthful as soon as they were alone again. ‘Try the apple slices, honestly. It sounds weird, but you will like it.’
Murray had his eye on the cubes of sourdough bread instead. ‘Apple and hot cheese? Really?’
‘Of course!’ Kurt speared a thick, green-skinned slice and was submerging it under the bubbling surface before making a long, steamy cheese pull which he had to twirl on the prong until it broke. He offered it up to Murray’s lips.
There was no elegant way of eating it, so Murray decided just to wolf it. Kurt’s blue eyes lit up at the sight.
‘Actually, thatisgood.’ Murray wiped his lips clean. ‘And healthy, because apple,’ he joked, and of course Kurt laughed uproariously.
Something like whale song and tinkly bells came over the speakers and for a beat Murray panicked that they’d already run out of things to say.
‘So… do you ski?’ he tried.
‘Have youbeento the Netherlands? Our mountains are little hills compared to here. So, no, I never learned how. I did play football and field hockey, and I tried speed skating once. I do a little weights training.’ That, thought Murray, remembering glimpsing his thick, corded arms, was an understatement. ‘And I like to run, I dance…’
‘You dance?’
‘Don’t you?’ Kurt challenged, going in for a slice of smoked sausage.
‘I suppose I do.’ Murray had learned ceilidh dancing as a kid, like everyone else who ever went to a school Christmas party in Scotland. He resisted the urge to suggest giving him a demo of the Gay Gordons, a pacey couples’ dance with lots of spinning and stomping, trying hard not to let the tasty, ice-cold beer that so easily chased down the salty, oily, smoky food go to his head.
‘I never learned to ski, either,’ Murray said instead. ‘Outside of lessons with school, and I didn’t love those. I’m just not a very outdoors-in-the-snow sort of person.’
This was safer. Calmer. He had to work with Kurt, or at least occupy the same repair shed as him, for the next month or two. He couldn’t let himself get carried away. But if that was really the case, why had he cared so much about dressing well tonight and making a good impression? He was sending himself seriously mixed messages.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Kurt was saying.
Oh no. Here it came.So why are you single? Have you been in many serious relationships? What is it you’re looking for in a guy?He’d watched enough dating shows to know what was coming. ‘Shoot,’ he said, as casual as you like.
Kurt looked especially wicked. ‘Is that supposed to be a tattoo, or what?’
‘Hah! You noticed?’
Hamish set down two more beer bottles and was gone again, giving Murray time to compose himself.
He turned his wrist, pulling back his cuff to reveal the jagged line of black ink. ‘It’s the peaks of Mount Cairn Dhu. See? Nothing as extensive as yours.’
Kurt was laughing, and not unkindly. ‘I think you asked for a proper tattoo but the pain was too much you wussed out, and now you tell people, “Oh, this? It’s a mountain.”’
‘Rude!’ Murray couldn’t help laughing too. There was a grain of truth in there somewhere. That zigzag line had hurt like hell. ‘There’s definitely no way I’d get another one.’
He expected a tour of Kurt’s arms to follow this, an explanation of the reasons behind each artwork on his skin, but Kurt kept his sleeves rolled down and drank his beer, eyes only on Murray.
‘Are you… missing home?’ Murray ventured. There had to be more to say. ‘It must be hard, working away, especially in the winter.’
‘It’s OK. I got used to it. I’ve been eco-build contracting all over Europe for years. But this is my first time in the Highlands.’
‘You like it?’
‘It’s… different.’ He chucked another big cube of bread in his mouth with a smile. His lips were glossed from eating. Another layer of Murray’s armour dissolved at the sight.
