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Emily twirled on the spot, making her skirts swish as she held her hands out for Mal to look at.“Look at my nails, Uncle Mal. April painted them for me.”
Setting Ava down, he stared at her little hands.“They’re beautiful, but I thought blue was your favourite colour.”
She flashed the bright pink tips again.“It was, but now I want to look like a princess, like April.”
Princess.The word carried a weight neither child could understand. A tremor rocked through Mal, his hands fisting until they were bone white. Focusing on the girls, he nodded back to the house.“Grandma will get you ice cream if you hurry.”
I waited until they were out of sight before speaking again, very quietly as though he were a startled doe.“What happened the other night meant something to me. If I want you and you want me, I don’t see a problem.”
“April.” My name was a snarl. So dismissive it transported me back to our earliest interactions.“You need to leave it alone. I can’t… I don’t want you—” His entire body was taut. Sweat beading his brow.“Not anymore.”Not anymore.I flinched involuntarily, shifting back on the blanket. Mal winced and air whistled through his lips.“That came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is—” I didn’t care what he wastryingto say. I knew what he was doing. Panicking and lashing out. Drawing a line in the sand and planting himself firmly on the other side of it. It wasn’t new behaviour for him, but this time I was tired of it.
Pushing to my feet, I squared up to him until my raised chin brushed his chest.“I’m a big girl, Malcolm, I don’t need you to let me down gently. If all you wanted was a hookup, you should have said so.”
“April—”
Refusing to let him see how much his words hurt, I skirted around him, heading for the house. My smile was bright as I offered my goodbyes, accepting sticky-fingered hugs from the girls and promising to have an answer about the painting for Iris. When Callum offered me a ride home, I might have been too enthusiastic in my acceptance. I told myself not to look back at him, but as I snatched up my purse and followed Callum out the front door, Mal’s regretful stare was the last thing I saw.
“You are even hotter in person, how is that possible?” theAmerican beside me drawled. A lock of blonde hair dipped across his forehead, obscuring bright, slightly bloodshot eyes. He planted an arm on the tabletop of the small booth in the Sheep’s Heid, crowding me against the bench until I began to feel a little claustrophobic.
The pub was traditionally Scottish, all dark wood and upholstery in a faded tartan colour. The ceiling was low and lined with thick beams, prompting many of its taller patrons to duck their heads every time they stood, or risk crashing into one of the glass light shades.
As evening drew in, the temperature had dropped some. That hadn’t stopped everyone and their dog coming down to cool off with a cold beer. Heather was so busy I’d barely glimpsed her small head darting behind the four-deep crowd surrounding the bar. People spilled out into the beer garden and down onto the docks, and my head buzzed as conversations became louder and more animated with every drink consumed. Perhaps we should have sat outside instead.
Or perhaps I should have turned down the offer of a fifth drink. I’d already reached my usual three-drink limit when the two American tourists approached Juniper and me. I knew the second I locked eyes with the Captain America lookalike he recognised me. His blue eyes had flared wide and there’d been just the slightest hitch in his step. When he opened his mouth and I heard his gorgeous southern lilt, I no longer cared. It wasn’t going to lead anywhere, but if he wanted to spend his evening flirting with an ex-movie star so he’d have a good story to tell his friends once his travel year came to a close, I’d happily lap up the attention.
Earlier, in line for the loo, I’d made the mistake of checking my social media page after seeing I’d been tagged in a picture. It was of me and June coming out of Brown’s the week before. I wore cutoff shorts and a white tank top, dark sunglasses covering the top half of my face. Thankfully, they’d had the decency to blur Juniper’s face out.
If it was curiosity that made me click on the picture, it was pure masochism that made me read the comments.
mydogisbetterthanyours: Definitely pregnant.
smith169: She’s such a bad actress, I literally can’t stand her.
ned6simpson: At least her tits are bigger now. She’d probably let me cum on them, dirty slut.
onlyurmum: I wish she’d fuck off already.
There were a few nice comments in there too, but my eyes only sought out the bad. I clicked onned6simpson’sprofile, unsurprised to see photos of his wife and children staring back at me. His bio read: Family, God, Football: in that order.I’d been half tempted to send a screenshot of his comment to his poor wife but flicked out of the app before I could act on that vicious little urge.
That,coupled with my hellish encounter with Mal that afternoon, had me off-kilter and self-conscious. A dangerous combination. Captain America’s whispered compliments had soothed me for a little while, but I was beginning to feel drunk and sad. I was also craving roughened brogue instead of southern drawl, which probably meant I needed to drink more.
Nestling closer to him, I swiped the pint of Guinness from between his hands and brought it to my lips. He chuckled, watching me.“I like a woman who can drink,” he said, the interest in his tone impossible to miss. I tried to latch onto that feeling, pressing the glass back into his grip and not retreating when it brought us closer.
“Is that so? What else do you like in a woman?” His grin deepened, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. I was distantly aware of a gasped“holy shit”from his friend, and June cursing beneath her breath. I didn’t think the two of them were hitting it off and I was probably a bad friend for not checking.
I paid them no mind, dropping my hand to his wrist to play with the corded leather bracelets he wore. He cupped my cheek, winding a curl around his finger.“Red hair.”
“Lucky me. What else?” I leant closer. I was almost in his lap by this point, letting his free hand explore my thigh, fingers flirting under the edge of the short summer dress I still wore.
His thumb brushed roughly over my lower lip.“Fuck-me lips like these—are you going to let me fuck your mouth tonight, April?”
June cursed louder and I was distantly aware of her rising to her feet. But it wasn’t her voice that had me snapping back.
“I think that’s enough.” Something smacked hard off the table.“Aye, I’m talking to you. Put your hands where I can fucking see them.” Roughened brogue. Mal. Looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.
Wyatt—I was certain his name was Wyatt. Or was it Brody?—leapt to his feet, jolting the table. Guinness spilled across the surface, dripping into my shoe. Testosterone snapped between the men like a live wire. He started in Mal’s direction.
“I wouldn’t. This won’t end well for you,” Mal warned, a dark glint in his eyes.
