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He buffed his hand along his bristled jaw, silver starting to glisten amongst the light brown.“I still think it’s a great idea. Why don’t you try talking it through with her, set some parameters that will make you feel more comfortable.”
I nodded.“Aye, I’ll think about it.” We lapsed into silence. The level of exposure that came with an online presence felt scary. Inviting people into my home, the single place I found solace? That was truly terrifying. But Callum was right. If April’s ideas saved the distillery, along with Jacob’s and Ewan’s jobs, I had to take the risk.
“Are we going to get the dunnage cleared?” he asked eventually.
Right. I had a delivery coming.“You don’t need to help.” I said, repeating the old party line.
He only clapped me on the shoulder and headed for the door.“And yet here I am, rearranging appointments because that’s what families do.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Where’s Boy?” he noted, once the dim light of the dunnage folded around us.
“I left him up at the manor…” I trailed off. If I wanted my dog back, I would need to face her sooner or later.
Reading my face, Callum chucked.“Perhaps later is better if you want to hold on to your balls.”
The sun was beginning to set, yet I remainedon my handsandknees, scrubbing the malt floor with a fixated vigour. A task I usually reserved for Ewan because it was too simple to get wrong, but here we were. Sinking the scrub brush into the water, I lashed it back against the cement with more force than necessary, focusing on nothing but the scrape of the bristles.
After Callum helped me store the fresh casks, we’d both been sweaty and panting. Callum had a satisfied smile on his face, the one he always wore after an afternoon of backbreaking work. He’d left to go back to his large home on the other side of the village to shower and spend his evening scrolling through his dating app, adding to his copious number of matches. I’d skipped dinner, begun fixing the dunnage door before realising I didn’t have the correctly sized bracket, and scrubbed the windows in my cottage. When that hadn’t proven enough, I moved onto the malt floor.
It was odd without Boy here, and I felt my eyes continually flicking to the corner he usually occupied. This was the longest stretch of time in four years I’d spent without him, other than his overnight stay at the vet last summer when he’d caught a stomach bug. I was certain the little traitor was in his element, playing with Dudley and basking in April’s tender affection. Something that felt a hell of a lot like longing scored down my chest.
I need to get my shit together and apologise. It was the only thing that would stop this unsteady feeling pounding through me. It felt like trying to balance on the bow of a ship. I knew I’d hurt her earlier. April, who was magnificent at letting people see exactly what she allowed them to, had slipped. It was only a moment, a mere fraction of a second, but I’d seen behind the glass. She’d looked insecure and small for the first time ever and I realised I’d put her on an untouchable pedestal. I was as guilty as every other person who dehumanised a celebrity, believing they didn’t feel the same insecurities as the rest of us.
I scrubbed harder, feeling my knuckles start to split on the wood.
I knew if I hadn’t been so keyed up about her being in my space, seeing my lonely little life, I wouldn’t have reacted so strongly. It wasn’t an excuse—hell, who knew, maybe it was. She’d been touching my things and asking questions no one had ever asked me. I’d been desperate for her to keep going while needing her to stop. It was a mindfuck.
I breathed in tandem with the motion. In, scrub. Out, scrub.
How does that make you feel, lad? I heard Kier’s voice in my head. The question he’d always asked when he knew my feelings were becoming too much.
Irritated, I silently answered.
Why are you feeling it?
Because I can’t speak to a beautiful woman without acting like an arse.
How do you deal with it positively?
Clean until I work up the nerve to retrieve my dog and apologise.
I didn’t need Kier’s voice to know it was the opposite of positive. I threw the brush back in the bucket, watching beads of water spray across the room. The thought of apologising made me feel hot and itchy. I wasn’t good at it.
Sighing, I scrubbed a wet hand down my face. I could go to her and admit everything was changing fast around here and that change unsettled me. Promise I would try and loosen the reins a little without admitting that she brought these intense feelings out of me. I could be honest without being transparent.
Hurrying back to the cottage, I took the notebook I kept beside my bed to record my intrusive thoughts when they kept me awake at night, and noted down everything I needed to say. Rereading until the words solidified in my brain. When I passed the rows of shelves, I grabbed a DVD without thinking, tucking it into the pocket of my jacket as I flew back out the door.
Waves crashing on my left, I navigated my way easily in the dark, boots sliding over juts in the undergrowth. I could walk this path drunk and blindfolded if necessary. Perhaps I should install some solar lights so April didn’t trip and hurt herself. As soon as I passed through the hedge, light illuminated the lower floor of the manor. I followed it like a sailor would a lighthouse through perilous water.
I was headed for the kitchen entrance at the back of the house when I spotted her, one foot propping open the door to the outbuilding. That spectacular round arse in the air, fully visible from where I stood, as she attempted to lift a wicker basket filled with logs into her arms.
That got me moving. Cutting from the path to the grassy bank, my long strides ate up the distance in seconds.“What are you doing?” I called before reaching her side.
She startled but didn’t halt.“Starting a fire, this is where the logs are kept.”
I knew that was where the logs were stored, I’d split every piece of wood myself. I watched her struggle a moment, almost bent in half as she attempted to drag the basket over the lip of the door.“You’ve overloaded the basket,” I pointed out.
