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“Come on.” He held her hand and led her up the stairs to his room.
Once the door was shut behind them, he smiled at her. His face so full of love and acceptance that it almost undid her.
“Aren’t we going to the show?” he asked.
Rainne shook her head. They stood in the middle of his bedroom. Rainne was cold from the run to his house, her coat was still back at the shop.
“You want to talk about it?” he said.
Rainne shook her head again. Alastair glanced around the room as his mind flicked through the things he should be asking, or doing, in his current situation. It was clear that he wasn’t sure what to do with her.
“What do you want to do?” he asked at last.
Rainne stepped in to him, stood on her toes and kissed him. She put her whole soul into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder, plunged her fingers into his hair and kissed him until the breath left him and he became the only thought in her mind.
“Rainne,” he said, his voice hoarse from wanting her. “What are we doing?”
She still couldn’t trust herself to speak. She was sure that if she started the whole horrible story of her pathetic life would tumble out of her mouth. She was sick hearing herself, sick thinking about all of it. She was sick of everything. So instead, she unbuttoned the straps on her purple dungarees and let the bib fall to her waist.
Alastair’s eyes went wide. Rainne bent over, pulled at the bows on her Doc Marten boots and kicked them off. She finished unbuttoning her dungarees and let them fall to her feet, where she calmly stepped out of them.
“Rainne,” Alastair said. “You’re upset, this isn’t the best time. You’re not thinking straight.”
She gave him a look.
“I mean,” he stumbled over his words for a change. “I mean I want to. But you don’t know what you’re doing right now.”
Rainne raised an eyebrow in challenge to that, then pulled her Wombles T-shirt over her head. Alastair gulped. Rainne was standing in front of him, in her underwear and thanks to the shop, it was a lovely matching pink set. But she didn’t want to think about the shop. She wanted to think about Alastair. Slowly, she turned her back to him, lifted her hair and waited for him to unclasp her bra. She could have done it herself, but it was time for him to get involved. There was a long pause, for a second she wasn’t sure if he was going to give her what she wanted and then she felt his gentle touch on her skin. There was a snap and her bra fell loosely. She shook it off and let her hair fall.
Slowly, she turned towards Alastair and watched him gasp. She just stood there, waiting as his eyes ate her up. At last, he looked at her face. Rainne nodded once. He smiled softly. And then he pulled his jumper up over his head. His T-shirt and jeans disappeared faster than she could blink. Alastair grinned slowly, the confidence she knew and loved shining from his eyes.
“Come on, Rainne,” he said as he held out his hand. “I’ve been dreaming about getting you into bed. I don’t want to waste a minute.”
And with a smile, Rainne followed her boy.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There was a party atmosphere in Invertary’s high street. The place was packed with people browsing through the stalls, eating snacks from the street vendors and listening to the assorted entertainment dotted along the street. Outside Kirsty’s shop the church choir were dressed like characters from a Dickens novel. They held sheet music and little glasses with candles in them. For a moment Kirsty listened to a beautiful rendition of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing, then turned her attention to the girls manning the church stall. The Donaldson twins lost their smiles when they spotted Kirsty.
“You really screwed up this time,” she said.
“We know,” Megan said.
They both hung their heads.
“Is this part of your brother’s punishment?” Kirsty gestured to the table in front of them.
“If we can raise five thousand pounds for the church roof, he’ll stop our home detention,” Claire said glumly. “Five thousand pounds! And he isn’t even including the money the carol singers rake in. We spent hours preparing the dough and now we have to stand here getting smelly from the oil. Surely, that should be punishment enough?”
“Be careful with that hot oil,” Kirsty told them.
She wasn’t sure she would have left the twins in charge of something flammable.
“Don’t worry Kirsty,” Megan said. “We have it under control. We even borrowed Mum’s juice cooler to keep the dirty oil in.”
Kirsty eyed the large white plastic barrel beside the table.
“And how will you clean the oil out so that your mum can use it for drinks again?”
