Page 118 of Scotch on the Rocks

“Dinnae make me drag yer inside, lass, my ancient back can’t hack it.”

Ada stood at his elbow, hands clasped over her mouth as though she were witnessing the opening sequence of a disaster movie.

I realised a few things in quick succession:

Something had crawled into my mouth and died while I’d slept.

It wasn’t a hand poking me, but the toe of Hank’s boot.

The pillow I clutched to my chest like a lover was Ivy House’s doormat.

And I hadn’t found Shakespeare.

Snapping upright, I swiped a hand over my crusted cheek, trying to get my bearings. The streetlamps still faintly glowed, the car park silent. I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.

If Hank hadn’t even started work yet, that meant it was too early for any guests to have seen me passed out on the porch.Christ, imagine if they’d had to step over me? I’d never recover from the humiliation.

How did I even end up here?

When I’d first come to stay with Alexander and Fiona, I developed a small habit of sleepwalking but that hadn’t affected me since my teen years.

“Are you all right, love?” Ada asked, edging closer. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine.” I waved her away. I did feel fine, physically atleast. Mentally … I stringed together my memories of last night. Jim Macabe had been injured. Callum had left for the surgery and, feeling helpless and guilty after I’d point blank refused to go with him, I’d retraced my steps to find Shakespeare. Starting at the cottage, I’d searched the surrounding area between my property and Callum’s. From there, I’d cut across the hilly bank between Ivy House and the neighbouring croft, combing through the heather and knee-high grass for any sign of her, hating myself a little more with every step.

My hands were scraped raw from thistle needles and dry mud caked in heavy patches up to my thighs from the bog I’d fallen into.

Around three a.m., convinced I’d die in that stinking bog, I’d cried to the image of the poor hikers that would inevitably discover my remains in days, or weeks. It was kind of poetic, if you thought about it, how many times had I warned Shakespeare that she would be the death of me? And in a classic Shakespeare move, she’d proven me right in the most dramatic fashion.

It was only once I’d stopped panicking long enough to halt my sinking into mud did I realise I could use the long grass to pull myself free, beached whale style. Lethal disaster averted, I’d stumbled back to Ivy House and collapsed on the doorstep, meaning to phone Callum, but I’d turned my phone over and over in my hands, thinking about what I’d even say to him when he answered. I didn’t want to disturb him while he was with his family, only to reveal my failure. I must have fallen asleep before deciding.

“Look at you, you’re frozen stiff.” Ada crouched in front of me, chafing her hands up and down my arms. “Work certainly isn’t boring with you in charge.” It didn’t feel like a compliment, but I laughed anyway. “Now, get yourselfinside, I’ll put the kettle on.” She threw a look at Hank that I couldn’t decipher, before stepping around me and heading inside.

That’s when I remembered Ada didn’t start her shift for a few more hours. And her parking spot sat empty. “You and Ada drove in together?” I asked Hank, attempting to waggle my eyebrows, but my face was too cold.

“Aye.” He observed me with a mixture of annoyance and begrudging concern. “What of it? She hasn’t gotten her tyre fixed. Bloody woman, I have half a mind to do it for her.”

“Oh.” I deflated, utterly bored at the explanation.Were the two of them going to dance around their feelings forever?At my reaction, the deep grooves in Hank’s forehead cut further into his weathered skin. “Oh, come on,” I laughed. “Ada’s been dropping hints at you to ask her out for years.”

“She has?”

My laugh melted into a groan. “Are you serious? Last Thursday she asked if you liked her new haircut then said no less than three times that her book club was cancelled, and she’d gotten all dressed up for nothing.”

“That … was a hint? To ask her out and such?”

He looked so uncertain I shook my head, dismayed. “My sweet summer child.”

“I dinnae ken what that means.” He stared toward the inn where Ada had disappeared, as though it might hold the answer. “I was supposed to ask her out on a date?”

“Yes. Or a drink if you want to keep it casual.”

He looked appalled. “No, I couldnae do that.”

“Date her?”

“The drink. If it’s nae more than a drink she’ll think I expect … other things.”Bloody hell. Hank was actually blushing.

“That’s okay too, if you both want that.”

---