‘I need to catch my breath, all right?’ she admitted finally. ‘I love my job, but I’mdrained. I’d like to stay for the summer, help out here,thendecide what comes next. Is that okay?’
‘Did something happen?’ Dad asked.
Rae shook her head. It wasn’t a lie. Everything had just built up. A bad review here, a nightmare shift there. And then there’d been the constant criticism from her executive chef, Yvette.The brutal, personal insults, the way she’d swipe dishes to the floor and watch them shatter if the food was a degree too cold or a minute too late. Rae didn’t know why it had all suddenly started piercing through her usually calm composure. Every kitchen she’d worked in was full of stressed cooks, and that almost always translated into bad tempers and clashing personalities. She’d thought her skin had been thick enough to deal with it, until one day, a hole had been made. A ladder in her tights that just kept getting bigger and bigger.
Something firm collided with her foot under the table, and it took her a moment to realise it was Struan’s walking boot. She glanced up, expecting him to pull away, but the weight stayed there. His expression was unreadable, fixed on her as it was. He sipped his wine, then said, ‘Well, it’s their loss. This is the best meal I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my mum.’
‘I expect you’ll pull your weight while you’re here, missus.’ Gran waggled a knobbly finger Rae’s way. ‘We’re not a free boarding house, you know.’
‘Oh, I know.’ Rae rolled her eyes, then looked at Dad expectantly.
He adjusted his injured leg, propped on the empty chair beside Rae. ‘All right. As long as you haven’t thrown your career away because you think we can’t cope without you.’
‘I haven’t thrown anything away.’ She hoped.
The atmosphere finally thinned, and Rae went back to scraping over her couscous. ‘I was going to talk to you about the farm, though.’
‘Tomorrow,’ her dad said, closing her down. ‘Struan, tell us about what you have planned for summer.’
Rae gritted her teeth at the dismissal, but politely listened to Struan chat about his volunteer work for Scottish Mountain Rescue and how busy he expected his day job, leading Highland hiking tours, to get in the coming months. Apparently, the glens around Belbarrow were growing in popularity, but Rae was yet to see any sign of it here. Hopefully, it was just a slow start, but her gut still twisted at the conversation she’d had with Gran earlier. What would happen if Dad wasn’t fit enough to work anymore? Who would take over the farm? She tried to think of strangers planting crops in their fields, gathering round the farmhouse table, replacing decades’ old trees in the orchard, and quickly lost her appetite.
Rae’s was the only plate still with food on it afterwards, and she was eager to escape the tension by sweeping up the dishes the moment Gran had taken her final bite. Her skin prickled when Struan’s hand brushed hers, warm in contrast to the cool ceramic as he tried to tug his plate back. ‘Please, let me.’
‘Nonsense. You’re a guest,’ Dad said. ‘Besides, Rae loves washing up.’
Struan’s brow arched. This close, she could see a hint of sunburn splashed over the gentle bump of his nose, and the thin scar breaking up the stubble on his chin, which she knew was from a short stint on the high school rugby team. The silver line served as a reminder that he wasn’t a stranger, but someone she’d known for most of her life, even if just from sitting in the Macgibbons’ cluttered living room or trudging behind him with Martha on their way home from school.
He tilted his head to better see her from his chair, and only then did she realise how close they were, her cleavage inches away from his face.She was sure she didn’t imagine the slant in his attention, the subtle swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip. Her nipples peaked as though it was them he’d licked instead, and she prayed he didn’t notice.
A hum began under her skin with the memory of his foot against hers, like he’d wanted to say,I’m here. Comfort her. It had probably been an accident, but…
But everything Struan did seemed intentional, from the way he’d looked at her across the table to the way he smiled at her now. ‘Aye, I do remember you battling my mum for the dish sponge when you’d stay over.’
She’d almost forgotten that. She supposed pulling her weight had been so engrained into her that she didn’t like to take advantage. That, and she really did like washing up. She was always the last to leave the restaurant at night, finding it therapeutic to wipe clean the mess of the day.
‘Well, I’m off to get my pyjamas on,’ Gran announced, cutting through Rae’s unexpected fixation on Struan.
Rae hopped away to collect Dad’s plate before heading to run the hot water at the sink.
‘I’ll dry, then,’ she heard Struan offer. ‘Can I get you anything, Doug?’
When she heard Dad’s chair squeak, Rae spun around, but he seemed steady enough with the wall as his support. ‘All that food’s got my stomach complaining. Excuse me.’
So hewasstruggling, then. Rae tried not to think about it now, not with Struan still here. He’d witnessed enough of her personal problems tonight already. She filled the bowl, the sweet scent of pomegranate washing up liquid grounding her as she swished her hands around the water.Once Dad had left, she let out a long breath.
‘You okay?’ Struan asked.
‘Fine.’ She handed him a gingham dish towel, which he draped over his shoulder while he waited for her to wash the first plate. ‘Thanks for trying to diffuse the tension with your nerdy Spider-Man jokes.’
‘They weren’tthatnerdy.’ He feigned offence with a hand to his chest, which made it difficult to ignore the softness of his torso beneath his blue T-shirt. His limbs were well-muscled, but his stomach and pecs were round and untoned: a supple body built from equal parts strength and ease, which felt perfect for him – and charming to her, especially when he stood close enough that her elbow hit the cushion around his ribs.
She tried to keep her voice steady, though his earthy scent, spiced by faint cologne, wafted over her. ‘They weren’t that funny, either.’
‘Aye, I got that when no one laughed.’
‘At least you tried.’
‘Hm. Too hard, some would argue.’
