Page 22 of Scotch on the Rocks

I wasn’t mad at him for theincidentin Glasgow … okay, I was mad that he’d waited until he had me spread and desperate for him on his front seat, just to prove hecould, before seemingly growing a conscience.I refuse to do something I’ll regret in the morning. An absolute arsehole move I could have moved past.

But I was angry that he’d so easily brushed it aside when that night had wrecked me and left me questioning everything.

I was furious that the first time I bumped into him in Brown’s after his move back to Kinleith, he’d dragged his eyes down the length of me, like he’d recently acquired X-ray vision, and said, “Amazingto see you again.” Then whispered in my ear, “What colour today, harpy?”

He never let me forget.

Not once.

But I was more annoyed at myself for letting things go that far.

“Wonderful. Still not asking him.” My mop worked more viciously. “I’d rather the roof cave in than ask Callum Macabe for help.”

“You’re in room three on the first floor.” I slid the brass room key over the desk to our newest guest – Mr Damien Lewis, according to his booking information – thankful that his late check-in meant he’d missed the craziness of the day. One less guest to compensate. “Take the stairs and it’s the second door on the right.”

Grinning, he ran his thumb over the rounded bow. “I didn’t know hotels still used real keys. It’s all swipe cards and QR codes these days.” His thick black hair and rich accent hinted at his Welsh heritage.

I gave him my friendliest smile. The one Fiona complained was too toothy, like an alligator. “We like to do things the old-fashioned way around here.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.” He crossed thick arms atop the front of the high desk, settling in.

This was the reason I usually let Fiona and our part-time receptionist, Ada, handle the check-ins. Idetestedchit-chat.

“Remember to mention that in your glowing review.” I drummed my fingers against the wood for effect. He laughed as if I’d delighted him.

“You’re funny.”

Now I knew he was lying. I’d been called many things in my life,funnywas rarely one of them.

This wasn’t the first time a guest had attempted to flirt with me. Despite Fiona’s encouragement, I wouldnevergo there. Even if he was handsome with a full head of black curls and a smile that suggested he knew exactly how long it’d been since I had a man in my bed. Mixing business with pleasure rarely ended well.

The door at his back opened and closed, probably another guest returning for the night. I jumped on the interruption and gestured to the stairs. “Breakfast starts at eight a.m., hang your menu card on your door and I’ll put your order in with the chef.” An obvious but polite dismissal. One I could have sworn he was about to ignore until a throat cleared.

Our heads swivelled in perfect synchronisation.

“Macabe.”

Grin firmly in place. Tanned arms crossed over navy scrubs. Hair wind-ruffled or possibly finger-raked after a long day. Callum Macabe looked … he looked …

“I heard you needed me, neighbour.”

Smug. He looked smug.

Ignoring him, I turned back to Mr Lewis. “Can I help you with anything else?”

“Any excursions you’d recommend? I plan to see as much of the island as possible.”

“Oh,” I floundered slightly. Again, this was why I preferred Fiona to handle this part. I wasn’t exactly the outdoorsy type. Too aware of Callum’s stare, I riffled through the nearest drawer, returning with the stack of leaflets Fiona and Ada handed out to guests. Unable to recall the personal recommendations they usually offered, I silently held the stack out. He leafed through them slowly, then tucked the wad of paper into a pocket.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mr Lewis. Reception closes at ten p.m., but there’s an emergency contact in your room should you need it.”

“And if I call it, willyoupick up?”

I laughed in surprise. The man had some balls, I’d give him that. “Goodnight, Mr Lewis.”

With a final crooked smile, he hefted his small luggage bag over his shoulder and took the stairs. Callum watchedhim leave, a small notch creasing the skin between his brows. When his attention returned to me, the room felt smaller, like his presence had somehow depleted the square footage by several feet.

“What are you doing here?” I asked after a long moment. “This morning wasn’t enough, you needed to go for round two?”

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