Page 30

“I don’t know so much about that,” Housty teased further. “If not now, then maybe later!”

“What’s going on over here?” Auntie Peigi said, noseying into the conversation.

“Moira’s trying to dig her claws into Ruairidh here,” Housty replied.

“Moira, is that right?” Auntie Peigi said, narrowing her eyes at Ruairidh.

“There is nothing going on,” Ruairidh retorted.

“Well, it’s not like you’re getting any younger, Ruairidh. You will be looking to settle down soon,” Auntie Peigi said in a matter-of-fact manner. “She’s a nice enough girl that Moira, but I’ll be honest, she’s not the one for you. And I’m sure your mother would agree with me on that.”

Ruairidh was just looking at Auntie Peigi with a dumbfounded look on his face. Housty was loving it, of course. He looked like he couldn’t believe this was happening right in front of him. Jenn could tell this was making up for him being beaten in the race. She was trying to hold in the shocked laughter that was threatening to burst out.

“Well… umm… appreciate the… advice, Peigi,” Ruairidh managed to say, though his ears had flushed a betraying shade of red.

“Anytime,” Auntie Peigi said, almost unaware of the commotion she was causing. “But you’ll need to nip her in the bud early that one, so you will. She’s got too much of her granny in her, that’s for sure. Ìosa Crìost, I had to rein Ealasaid in—many a time, on many a lad!”

Housty was making some sort of strangled noise at this, causing Ruairidh to glower at him even more.

“Yes, noted, thanks, Peigi,” Ruairidh said calmly, even though Jenn could almost see the internal screaming. “Well, we should probably leave these ladies to it, eh, Housty?”

“Yes, thanks, ladies!”

“You’re welcome, lads, and congratulations again!” Auntie Peigi said, waving them off and returning to the other customers.

Jenn bit back a smile as Auntie Peigi bustled off, blissfully unaware of the emotional grenades she’d lobbed. Moira wasn’t the one for Ruairidh—Auntie Peigi was right about that. Not that Jenn cared. Obviously.

Except… when Ruairidh glanced back, that warm yet unreadable gaze caught her for a split second—and there was something in it, almost unguarded, that made her forget how to breathe. Brilliant.

Chapter 17

One of the highlights of the Hellisay summer season was the annual boat race, fishing competition and, of course, the Fisherman’s Dance—all in aid of the RNLI. Aside from possibly Christmas Day, it was one of the few days where all the fishermen took some time off to have fun, compete, and race.

It was a big deal for Jenn’s family, given that Eachann, Calum, and Angus were all fishermen. She’d been to many of these wild events where they’d race their boats around Saints Bay in all manner of solo and team time trials—spray from the water cannons catching the sunlight in rainbow bursts. And let’s not forget—Best Dressed Boat. None of your fancy yachts, these were all hard-working fishing vessels decked to the nines for a wee day out!

In parallel, there would be a myriad of fishing competitions, including the weirdest fish caught and the dreaded wooden spoon for the least amount of fish caught. The trophies were mismatched, dented, and proudly displayed—tangible proof of bragging rights until next summer. It was a truly haphazard and delightful Hellisay affair. Jenn loved it.

The Fisherman’s Dance was a big occasion, and this was where Eachann got the best catch of his life—Peigi. Riding high on glory from winning various events, Eachann had finally snared his beloved Peigi—the rest, of course, was history.

Jenn had worked during the day to allow others to attend the day events, but now she was enjoying the Fisherman’s Dance. Her family had commandeered at least two tables, the polished wood sticky from countless ceilidhs. The tables were covered in an impressive haul of trophies and winnings from the day. The air was heavy with the mingled scent of beer, fried fish, damp wool, and warm pastry from the buffet table, all of it trapped under low, swaying strings of fairy lights. Though they were still smarting that they’d lost out on Best Dressed Boat…

Earlier in the evening, Jenn had dropped off a plate of empire biscuits to Shona and Seumas MacLean, old friends of Peigi and Eachann, who’d staked out a prime table near the fire exit—less for the breeze and more for the gossip.

“Well now, would you look at this,” Shona said, eyeing her like a prized exhibit. “You’re the spit of your Granny Annag at that age. Caused absolute mayhem, that one.”

Jenn laughed, flushing slightly. “I’m not sure I’m quite at mayhem levels.”

Seumas gave a thoughtful nod. “Och, Peigi and Eachann say you’ve got the same spark. And it’s good seeing one of Annag’s lot back up this way again.”

Jenn smiled politely—then felt her stomach dip. Wait. Seumas MacLean. Eachann’s good pal, Seumas. Which would make Shona and Seumas… Màiri, Cairistìona, and Ruairidh’s grandparents. Oh, perfect.

“Enjoying baking up at the airport?” Shona added, already helping herself to a biscuit. “About time someone sorted their scones out.”

Jenn smiled, suddenly twelve again and being fussed over at family ceilidhs. “Just helping out for a bit. It’s been lovely to be back, though.”

“Oh, we’ve heard. All good things,” Seumas said with a wink, before helping himself to a biscuit. “Eachann’s fair chuffed you’ve settled in.”

Shona leaned in a fraction. “You’re doing well, a nighean. But mind yourself—word is our Ruairidh’s been looking a touch distracted lately.”