She’d almost completely forgotten about Colin until his quizzical gaze slid to her, recognition dawning on his narrow features. He resembled a bird, all long, sharp nose and beady eyes. ‘Rae Docharty. I haven’t seen you since you stained myDoctor Whobedsheets pink.’
Hadn’t forgotten, then. She grimaced, wishing she had just stayed hidden behind Struan. ‘Yes, ha-ha. That was funny. And awful. I’m terribly sorry about that, by the way.’
‘Hang on, hang on. Pink?’ Struan tilted his head, a suggestive glance cast between them.
She realised he was thinking of something other than rosé and was quick to blurt, ‘Nothing I’d like to rehash. Anyway—’
‘Strawb here came home with me on prom night and spewed all over. When we were kissing, too. Talk about letting a guy down gently.’ Rae hoped that Colin’s chuckle meant she was forgiven. ‘Remember, I almost called an ambulance? I’d never seen vomit that colour before.’
Was she imagining it, or did Struan’s shoulders relax?
‘Yes, unfortunately, I do remember. Speaking of pink things,’ she diverted quickly, waving the jam jar in Colin’s face, ‘we were wondering if you might like to buy some local produce. We can set you up with a taster today, and if you like it, we can deliver a box once a week.’
Colin braced his elbows on the counter, chewing on the already gnawed tip of his pen as he regarded her. ‘Aren’t you a big-time chef now?’
Jesus. Did everybody know where she’d been for the last few years? Yes, Belbarrow was small and people talked, but it would have been nice not to have to explain her return to every single person she encountered.
Struan cleared his throat, a much-appreciated reminder of the matter at hand. ‘Focus, Colin. We’re talking jam here. Think of the scones. Think of the cakes. Think of the mutually beneficial relationship between local vendors.’
Rae cast him a grateful glance, which lingered longer than necessary when the sunlight painted his shaggy hair a pretty shade of gold. Among the pastel accents of the tearoom, he was as contrasting as the mountains he climbed: rugged stone in parts, gentle grass and wildflowers in others.
Colin examined the sample pot. ‘I like the idea of sourcing local, but my mum’s in charge of all this, so I’ll have to ask her when she gets back from the caravan tomorrow.’
‘That’s great!’ Before the subject switched again, which she could tell was possible based on the way Colin’s gaze raked up and down her figure, she grabbed a handful of fliers and plopped them down. ‘We’d also love to invite you and your customers to our Strawberry Fair at the end of summer.We can provide you with a free stall for the full day, if you’d like?’
He barely glanced at the flier. ‘So, are you back for good now?’
‘No, not for good.’ She forced a smile. ‘Could you let me know what your mum thinks?’
‘That’s a shame. It might be nice to catch up. Go for a drink or something – not rosé, of course.’
Oh. He was asking her out. She should have been flattered, given nobody had paid any interest to her in a long time, yet the thought of dating didn’t feel any more exciting here than it had in Sydney, or Tokyo, or Barcelona, or any of the other countries she’d worked in. She supposed she could just say yes, dip her toe back into the dating pool, but she was so busy, and he was a little too forward for her tastes. In fact, he seemed to be addressing her chest, and made no move to stop when she folded her arms. Hardly romantic. Perhaps she should thank her acid reflux after all.
‘Am I invited?’ Struan jested, tugging Colin’s hair to drag his gaze up.
Colin tutted and tried to fix the dark strands, his freckled complexion reddening. ‘Get off, eejit.’ His attention still shimmered with an off-putting amount of zeal when it returned to Rae, this time raking down to her hips and thighs. ‘I must say, Strawb, you’re looking great…’
‘I’m feeling a wee bit thirsty myself. Tea,Rae?’ Struan sidled closer to Rae. His hand hovered over her lower back, drawing attention to the stiff tension in her spine.
She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the interception. She could usually handle herself around a lech like Colin, but the childhood nickname and the rosé reminder humiliated her enough that she felt like a flustered kid again, especially with Struan here to witness it all.
After hastily inspecting the menu, Rae settled on an iced tea to combat the sticky heat on her skin – ‘To go,’ both she and Struan finished at the same time.
‘Sorry. Have you bagged yourself a chef, Gibbs?’ Colin motioned between the two of them with his pen, the first time he’d looked away from her boobs in minutes. ‘I didn’t know you two were a thing, otherwise I wouldn’t have made an arse of myself.’
‘Not a thing. Doesn’t mean you’re not an arse, though.’
Struan’s sardonic grin was strained. Her stomach fluttered in time to the tic in his jaw, though she convinced herself she was just thankful, not anything else, as he collected their drinks with a final glower cast at Colin. ‘For the record, I think it’s much more effective to look up here’ – he tilted Colin’s chin again with a terse pat – ‘when you’re speaking to a woman, aye?’
Now, it was Colin who resembled a strawberry, and she smirked in satisfaction.
After a swift escape from the tearoom, she loosed a long breath, letting her iced tea cool her clammy palms. Bridge Walk was already coming to life with shoppers and early tourists clad in hiking gear, the sound of the babbling river providing a peaceful backdrop. She made to soak in the view, leaning over the stone ledge to map the steady flow of water below. She’d forgotten how beautiful this town could be when she wasn’t focusing on the stress of the farm or tricky memories,but the woods formed an emerald barrier around them, the heady scent of the baked soil mingling with the tearoom’s fried bacon putting her at ease.
‘You all right?’ Struan settled beside her.
‘I mean, aside from being utterly humiliated. Do not repeat the rosé story to anyone,’ she warned.
‘I’m just impressed you boked all over a man and he still asked you out on a date ten years later.’
