Page 17 of Scotch on the Rocks

“Okay, love. And I don’t want you rushing around here after work, relax, take the evening to yourself.”

The thought of catching up on my mounting paperwork was tempting, but— “I’ll just sit at home. I may as well come and do that with you.”

“You could actually go out.”

“What’s out?”

“Hilarious. When I was your age, Dad hired a babysitter every Friday without fail so we could go to the village disco.”

“This isn’t the 1920s.” I deadpanned.

“If it was, you’d have your own family to worry about.”

“Ouch, Mum.” I rubbed the spot on my chest her barb had struck. “It’s a little early for home truths, don’t you think?”

“I see more grandchildren in my future and for that, I need my son to regain his social life. Go on a date, join a hiking group, do something.”

“Mum—”

“Do something,” she repeated firmly.

“You promise to call me if anything happens?”

“Promise,” she echoed before the line went dead.

Dating?I snorted to myself.As if I have the time. Shoving that thought aside, I clutched Simon’s carrier tighter and hurried back onto the street. If the army had taught me anything useful, it was the art of compartmentalising.

I was two doors from the practice when a familiar lean form snatched my attention. The silky black locks I’d dreamed about long before I knew what it was to run my hands through them. You could block my ears and blindfold me and I could still pick her out of a line-up from the gut tingles alone.

Fucking gut tingles.When had I become this pathetic? Didn’t stop me from coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street.

Juniper.

Twice in one day.

The universe clearly wanted to punish me.

Her strides were short and jerky, head ducked low as she hurried along the path, no doubt from the overflow car park that charged a small fortune for a single hour. Yeah, a definite arsehole move on my part. The space was rightfully hers and had she been anyone else, I would have let them have it. The problem was, Juniper Ross had infected my brain. And five years ago she’d destroyed me so thoroughly in a hotel car park, I’d never quite pieced myself back together.

A little light hazing was a small price to pay. And I had a sneaking suspicion she got off on this little game as much as I did.

From a safe distance my eyes devoured her sleek lines, like it had been weeks not minutes since I’d seen her last. Despite the chill, she was dressed in only a strappy tank top, and it wasn’t until I noticed how the fabric literally clung to her that it registered she was soaking wet. Damp footprints lay behind her like a treasure trail. Water dripped from her workout shorts, hair flicking from beneath the cap in damp curls as she ducked into the small hardware store.

Had it rained today?No.

How didn’t I notice the state of her before?

Now I really felt like an arsehole. I changed direction without thinking, ducking through the door only seconds behind her. The bell sounded and the owner, Duncan, nodded over the top of his hardback. “Morning, Callum. All ready for the first match next week?”

“Aye.” Distracted, my gaze scanned the three small aisles leading away from the counter. Uninspiring metal shelving stacked with tools, paint samples and rolls of wallpaper. Anything more required delivery from the mainland.

“Jamie had a few ideas about testing out a new team formation—”

“That’s great, tell him to email me.” A flash of black in the furthest corner and my feet closed the distance.What are you doing here, sweetheart? You don’t DIY.

I found her in the sparse bathroom section, grabbing seemingly random items and shoving them into a large orange bucket with an unravelled urgency I’d never seen from her. Rolls of duct tape, quick repair putty, a wrench, several pairs of gloves, mop heads. Even a trowel made the cut.

“What are you doing?”

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