Page 25 of Scotch on the Rocks

He said nothing. His usual signal for me to continue. He was like a priest in a confessional that way, though his advice was likely far more colourful.

“Callum Macabe offered to help.”

“And you turned him down?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he grunted, shoving the remainder of his food past his lips. “The lad’s always grinning. Makes me antsy.”

I laughed, happy to find another person on this island who didn’t sip from the Community Ken cup. “You don’t think I should say yes? Set aside my pride and accept help when it’s offered?”

My words trailed off when Ada swept through the door, already talking as she slipped out of her damp coat. “Sorry I’m late, damn sheep in the road again. Then a motorhome full of tourists got out to take pictures.” She shook her head, silver-streaked box braids slipping over her shoulder. “As though the folk that live here don’t have places to be.” Turning for the desk, she held Hank’s stare a fraction longer than strictly polite. Born in London, she and her late husband relocated to Skye almost thirty years ago. She’d lost him seven years back and worked part time at Ivy Houseever since.

The quickness with which Hank straightened was almost comical. As was the way he brushed crumbs from his chest. “You missed a bit,” I whispered, pointing to one lone crumb on his lip while sliding from the seat to let Ada take over the evening shift.

“Hey Ada. Question: do you think I should hire Callum Macabe to help with the bathrooms?”

“Callum?” Like every female in this village, her face brightened at the mention of him. “He’s such a lovely boy.”

Looking back at Hank, I lifted my brows in the universalseegesture.

Grunting, he waved a hand, already retreating to the safety of his kitchen. To avoid me or the attractive widow? That was still up for debate. “Do what you want, lass, yeralways do. Just leave me out of it … And be careful around that lad, I dinnae trust him.” He offered the final comment as though it were an afterthought.

Using Ada’s arrival to escape, I plugged in my headphones and retreated to the quiet seclusion of the laundry room and the stack of clean bed linen waiting to be pressed and ironed. My mind wandered through the menial task, looping over Hank’s words.

Just leave me out of it.

There lay the problem. I didn’twantto leave him out of it. I wanted someone to take the decision out of my hands, so I didn’t suffer any blowback.

I wanted all of the reward with none of the risk.

Later that evening, I curled into the sofa cushions in my cosy living room. Shakespeare perched on the arm of my velvet-lined wingback, watching as I balanced my phone atop a pile of books with one hand, careful not to spill the cereal in the other.

“Glare all you want, arsehole,” I said, waiting for the camera to connect.

“Is this how we’re greeting each other now?” Backlit by the glow of flames in the tiny cottage she occupied with Mal, April looked delighted at the prospect. Heather connected next, her face blurring as the camera drifted in and out of focus.

“Sorry.” I flipped the screen so they could get a good look. “That was aimed at the demon cat.”

“Still not going well?”

I held up my heavily decorated arm in explanation, welts curling around my wrist like a bracelet. “Why did this have to be the cat I agreed to adopt rather than foster?”

“Because you took one look at that beautiful face and couldn’t say no?” Heather joked. I hummed noncommittallybut Heather was right, I’d always had a weakness for pretty things.

“I know all about that.” April reclined in her chair with a chuckle, a script balanced across her knees. In just a few short months she would leave to shoot her latest movie, and if I was honest, I dreaded her departure.

The magnitude of April’s level of fame often crept up at the strangest times. Having my best friend back in Kinleith felt so normal, it wasn’t until tourists pointed her out in shops or on the beach that I even remembered her fame. Heather and I had a lot of fun watching Mal attempt to fend off some of her morededicatedfans.

“How’s things at Ivy House?” Heather was the first to broach the subject.

“Oh, you know, I’ve comped so many rooms I’m pretty much paying the guests to stay at this point and I had to bribe Hank with a raise to stop him calling Fiona.”

“It’s just a bump in the road.”

“Especially if you agree to let Callum help,” Heather urged, voice edging towards exasperated. “I know you two don’t exactly see eye to eye, but for this, can’t you try getting along?”

“I have some free time tomorrow if you need a hand? I’m very adept at customer service,” April cut in, effortlessly changing the subject. Though she’d never said anything, I knew she had her suspicions about Callum and me.

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