Page 78 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape

His eyes twinkled across the table at me. ‘You’re welcome.’

* * *

Mitch and I scrunched over the melting, sandwiched layers of crunchy snow, while Kane and Bronte whirled around us, chasing each other and letting out delighted barks.

Behind us, the lighthouse glowed in the early-December sunlight, like a Christmas decoration.

I was filled with thoughts of Mitch, what he’d told me, the way he’d confided in me, his haunting guilt at what had happened to Noah, the way he’d talked about his wife abandoning him when the going got tough, him seeking penance to put something right, his chivalrous, caring attitude towards me and then him sleeping in that chair with a pillow and duvet all night… Everything was wafting through my brain and refusing to leave. The lone wolf, Mitch Carlisle, with eyes as deep and blue-green as the sea.

I batted the thoughts away, fetched my front door key out of my coat pocket and slid it into the lock. I crouched down and gave Kane a rub behind the ears. He rewarded me with a sloppy lick to the face. ‘And thank you too, handsome.’

‘Oh, so he gets called handsome and I don’t?’

I stood up and laughed. ‘I mean it. Thank you for last night.’

Mitch flapped one gloved hand. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘Yes, you did. You made sure Bronte and I were safe and looked after.’ I hesitated. ‘Just when I needed it, too.’

‘Well, you fell asleep on my couch and I’m not such a heartless rogue that I’d cast you and your pup out in the snow.’

Now it was my turn to flap my hand. ‘Are you fishing for compliments?’

Mitch’s mouth flickered with a smile.

I eased the cottage front door open, and Bronte shot inside. I turned in the doorway. ‘You can’t blame yourself for what happened to Noah.’

Mitch bristled. ‘You’re trying to psychoanalyse me.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to.’

‘It’s okay. I’m sorry I’m a grumpy bugger.’

There was the sound of plopping and dripping around us as the snow continued its slow melt.

I fidgeted in the doorway.

Mitch continued, ‘You have to move on at some point. We both do.’

I could feel hot tears jabbing at the corners of my eyes. I nodded.

Mitch frowned under his dark, woolly hat. ‘I can’t quite believe I told you as much as I did last night. I’m not normally so talkative. You must’ve cast your spell on me.’

‘I’m a good listener.’

There was that irresistible, quirky angle to his mouth again. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

Down in the harbour, the water swished under the rose-tipped morning sky. ‘Whatever the reasons, I want you to know that I do appreciate your help with this exhibition and getting my grandma’s work out there.’ I realised my hands were playing with the zipper on my coat.

I couldn’t believe what I said next. The words flowed out of my mouth, as though they had a life of their own. ‘If you’re at a loose end tomorrow, maybe you could drop in for a coffee?’ I took a breath. ‘I mean, as a way of me saying thank you for last night.’

When Mitch’s attention lingered on my face, I coughed. ‘I mean, we need to get all our ducks in a row for this exhibition, don’t we?’

Mitch’s expression remained impassive. ‘Of course we do. That sounds sensible.’

He continued to linger there on the step, with me framing the doorway. Mitch gave the back of his neck an absent rub with his gloved hand and I twizzled a curl around one finger. We both looked back at one another at the same time. I wasn’t imagining it. I could feel it: a swirling, charged electrical current bolting between the two of us.

Mitch’s attention rested on my mouth. Then he performed a little mock salute. ‘Bye, Rosie.’ Kane followed up behind as Mitch walked away.