Page 37 of Grace on the Rocks

“Are you going to the ceilidh next week?” the boy asked, wandering over to a flyerCaithad left behind with a wistful expression on his face.

“I really need to write,”Graceanswered automatically.Thougha ceilidh sounded sort of fun, but then again, not ifhewas going to be there, surrounded by a posse of thin, glossy admirers.Gracecould only imagine that one well-timed glower from him would have ladies’ panties falling at their feet like he was some kind ofScottishMr.Darcy.No, thank you.

“We’re going,”Wesleycontradicted her, stepping into the kitchen in a wave of fresh lilac and recovered pride.

“But—”

“We’re going,”Wescut off her protest. “Ialready toldMal.”

“Who?”

“My mother…” their host said, turning to face them, grimace freshly cemented in place.

“She said hello, by the way,”Westold him.Tohis cousin she added, “We’llbe there, andIexpect you to save me a dance.”

Lùcas beamed at her, andGracefelt her deadline slipping away.

ChapterTen

Bryan expectedGraceto revisit her manuscript after eating the tiny ready meal, but instead she clambered back out on the roof with him andLùc.Hertenacity reminded him of her brother, clawing his way into the starting defensive midfield position withTheBhoysofCelticFCwhen he was barely nineteen years old.Diegomade himself invaluable to his first professional club before being traded to theEPLfor big money.

That same doggedness must have drivenGraceto sell her debut novel in her twenties, earning her one of the most prestigious literary awards in youth literature, according toGoogle.Nowshe was procrastinating from finishing her second book by wasting time here with him.Why?

And worse, was he doing the exact same thing?

AfterRionnagachwas such a success,Ardbeghad offeredBryananother expression of his own, but instead of graciously accepting the bird in hand, here he was eco-renovating an entire house so thatsomedayhe might distill his next whisky under his very own label.Washe actually just delaying the inevitable because he was afraid to fail?

He scowled atLùcasas they hefted the next solar panel up the ladder, as though the lad were the one suggestingBryanwas procrastinating.

He wasn’t.Thiswas the right next step.Hecouldn’t make whisky for someone else forever.Grandadhad understood.Hell, the master distiller atArdbeghad understood, so why wasBryanstill having phantom arguments in his head?

This renovation was a means to an end.Ina way, he supposed it was one forGracetoo, if it got him out of her hair as he’d promised.Andso they worked on.

Though curious eyes tickled the back of his neck, he ignored the neighbors who gathered on the beach to gawk as they mounted the solar panels one after another atop his grandfather’s roof.Thesame villagers had raised a ruckus whenGrandaddecided to replace the back with modern shingles, leaving only the street-facing side with its historical and beautiful, but difficult to maintain, thatch.Nowthey were clutching their pearls over the eyesore of his solar panels.Wouldthey forgiveBryanas readily as they had his grandad?

He could see their point.Allthose years ago,Bryanhad felt both ways about it.Thatchwasn’t only aesthetically pleasing, it was far more eco-friendly than most of the shingles on the market at the time.Butthatch also needed a great deal of main­tenance, especially on the ocean-facing side of the house.Bryanhadn’t planned on being there to help repair or replace it, and a man in his seventies shouldn’t have been up and down the ladder at all hours, so he’d embraced the shingle plan.Foryears he’d been disappointed in himself for compromising his principles in exchange for his freedom, but if he hadn’t, the roof would never be able to support solar panels now.

“What the hell is this monstrosity?” his sister yelled up at him. “Anddon’t tell me you’ve put your guests to work too,Ry!”

He grimaced.Somehow, he’d almost expunged the awful nickname from memory during his years away, and hearing it now was tantamount to rubbing his own skin off with sandpaper.

“I can see the one-star reviews already,” she went on.

Beside him,Gracesnickered.

“Folk hand over good money to do hard things on vacation,” he called down, wiping his forehead on his arm.

“Digging wells for the less fortunate or hiking to the top ofEverest, you mean?”

It was exactly what he meant, so he stayed quiet.

“Have you spared a thought for what the town will say?”

He’d thought of little else. “Asit doesn’t affect them, they can say what they like,” he snarled.

“All this to save you, what?Afiver a year on your power bill?”

“Not about that,” he grit out, before yawning to force his clenched jaw to release. “Ifyou tried, you might find them attractively futuristic.”

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