Page 38 of A Scottish Island Summer

Chapter Nine

After a wonderful hot breakfast of fried eggs, potato scones and bacon (sod nibbling on a salad – I’d been through a trauma), which Logan conjured up on his camping stove, we washed it down with the best mug of tea I’d ever tasted.

Once we’d cleared up and packed away our camping equipment, we clambered into Logan’s truck. I’d stuck to my guns about only camping for one night and used my experience rescuing Flipper as an excuse to return to civilisation, and Logan seemed resigned to the fact that being battered by sea winds whilst trying to sleep wasn’t my idea of a good time.

‘The closest public showers are twenty-five miles away.’

Of course they were. Thank goodness I wouldn’t be camping again tonight. I’d dried off the best I could, but I was certain salt water and dried shell fragments were now lodged into places where they shouldn’t be.

At least I’d been able to throw on fresh, dry clothes and I was now wearing one of the new cable-knitted jumpers I’d bought the other day and a pair of jeans.

As Logan negotiated the winding roads that were laced around the island like black ribbon, I tugged down the truck mirror.

I immediately wished I hadn’t.

I looked horrific. Lavender smudges of weariness were under my eyes, topped off by my static explosion of roughly towel-dried hair.

I pushed the mirror back up and inwardly cringed.

If Justine could see me now, she’d be reaching for her migraine tablets.

Our backpacks were nestled side by side on the back seat, and I reached back and located my mobile, which I’d stuffed into the front pocket.

‘You going to take a selfie?’ asked Logan, glancing over as he guided the steering wheel.

‘Are you joking? Looking like this? I’d frighten small kids.’

‘That’s what happens when you morph into Wonder Woman.’

I gave him a wry look. ‘All I want right now is a hot shower and to wash my hair. I won’t feel so much like an extra from Dawn of the Dead after that.’

Logan grinned through his stubble. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you look pretty. Natural.’

I fidgeted in the passenger seat. ‘I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.’

‘Believe me, it is.’ Logan’s eyes glittered across at me, while drizzles of morning sun broke through the clouds.

Was he flirting with me? I looked like something awful dredged up from the bottom of the ocean.

As he returned his attention to the road, I pushed the thought away and made myself concentrate on the reason why I was remaining on Skye for the next three weeks. ‘I can barely contain myself in anticipation of what our next thrill’s going to be.’

Logan’s full lips flickered. ‘It’s a surprise.’

I found myself smiling. ‘That means it’s going to be something equally as horrendous as wild camping.’

‘Oh, ye of little faith.’

‘No, I’m just realistic.’

Logan squinted over at me as he eased us up behind another vehicle on the road. ‘You’re looking at your phone again.’

‘Well done. Nothing much gets past you.’ My attention bored into River Banks’s latest procession of sun-drenched images for her Techno Phones campaign. Her cheeks were buffed and her glossed lips parted in a self-satisfied pout as she brandished a shiny mobile whilst stretched out on a sunbed. Meanwhile, here I was, sitting in a mud-splattered truck, smelling of sea salt and rescued dolphin.

I frowned over at Logan. ‘It’s like I said. This is my career.’

I spotted his eyebrows rise.

‘Don’t you use social media for your shop, Rock God?’