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“Bet those Sharks’ll be raging,” Vivi cackled, scratching Morag behind the ears.
“Did you see them last night?” Auntie Peigi asked, suddenly all ears.
“Yeah, they came over to the table for a bit,” Vivi said. “Didn’t look too happy that Ruairidh and Ally were sitting with us.”
“They’ve had a thing for those two for years,” Auntie Peigi said with a huff. “Although to be fair, young Alasdhair did go out with one of them—Louise, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Jenn confirmed.
“And Jessica’s married to young Calum Matheson now. Lovely girl. I shouldn’t say this, with her being Ealasaid’s granddaughter, but Moira is hard work. Mind you, she’s a good teacher and an amazing dancer. She’s got her sights set on Ruairidh, though.” She gave Jenn a very pointed look.
“And what about Donnie?” Vivi asked innocently. “Any of them ever had a go with him?”
Jenn turned sharply, giving her the ‘what are you playing at’ look. Even Morag blinked at her in disbelief—or possibly just wanted more strokes.
“Hmm. There was an incident with the Jessica one, but I don’t know the details,” Auntie Peigi mused. “Couldn’t have been serious, as Calum’s his best pal. And he did name them after all.”
She waved the topic away. “Anyway—enough about that! I want to hear more about you and young Ruairidh…”
Chapter 28
Thursday evening arrived faster than she’d expected. After a lazy Sunday of catching up and eating far too much cake, with Lizzie popping round for a Sunday roast, Jenn had spent Monday escorting Vivi around the island—via several impromptu pop-ins and gossip sessions—before Vivi headed home on Tuesday morning. The farewell had been emotional, a sharp reminder of how much Jenn missed having her around. But then the week had blurred into back-to-back shifts, leaving no time to dwell on the looming date.
She and Ruairidh had exchanged a few texts, the kind with long pauses between replies, thanks to work schedules, but that only made things feel easy and unpressured. Ruairidh hadn’t turned up at the airport yet, but Abigail and Mairead were practically vibrating with excitement. Jenn had sworn to text them the second the date ended. And they weren’t the only ones.
“Now we want updates!” Màiri demanded, rolling up her yoga mat.
“Yes, we do,” Lizzie chimed in. “In fact, don’t you dare clear up. Go get yourself sorted—we’ll finish here.”
“Don’t be da—”
“Away you go. Shoo!” Lizzie cut her off, bossily pushing her toward the door. “Go and make yourself even more gorgeous than usual.”
“And have fun.” Màiri rushed in for yet another hug.
“I will, I will, I promise!” Jenn laughed, grabbing her bag and retreating to the ladies’ loo to freshen up.
Even though early November meant chilly, dark evenings, she opted for one of her floaty, floral dresses, teamed with a cosy cardigan, scarf, and ankle boots. Her hair was its usual curly riot—she left it loose, deciding to lean into the chaos. A dab of radiance balm, a flick of mascara, a swipe of lipstick. More effort than usual, but still casual.
Ruairidh was waiting outside in front of a black Volkswagen Golf, hands tucked casually in his pockets. He wore dark blue jeans, a pale blue jumper, and what looked like a crisp white shirt underneath. He was always so impeccably put together. Jenn’s pulse skipped.
“Lovely to see you, Jenn,” he said, flashing that dangerous smile as she approached.
He leaned in for a light hug and a kiss on the cheek, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave—clean, warm, unmistakably him. It dragged her straight back to Saturday night in a dizzy rush. Her stomach tightened, half lust, half nerves. Please don’t be going bright red, she prayed.
“And you, too. I’m looking forward to this,” she managed, somehow sounding normal as Ruairidh opened the passenger door for her. Ever the gentleman.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he said once she was settled. Another smile—soft, genuine—and she still couldn’t get over this side of him. The relaxed, warm version of Ruairidh MacLean.
“So, I was thinking about The Brig. Sound good?” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“Yeah, absolutely. I can’t remember the last time I was there—probably some family meal years ago,” Jenn said, trying not to remember Auntie Peigi’s cheeky commentary about The Brig.
“Well, in a place like this, it’s one of the few spots where you can have a drink in peace—without the entire island interrupting.” He smiled wryly.
“I know exactly what you mean.” Jenn smiled back, her nerves starting to ease.
They chatted idly as they drove south, the headlights cutting through the night. It was one of those clear, cold evenings when the stars glittered and looked close enough to touch, especially once they left behind the streetlights and bustle of Saints Bay. The journey to The Beiradale didn’t take long, the roads quiet at this hour.
