Page 18 of Scotch on the Rocks

She leapt a damn foot in the air, hand flying to her chest. Then she turned the full force of those doe eyes on me. “Not now, Macabe.”

The words might have been cutting had she not resembled an injured dog. Despite the few inches I had on her, she managed to look down her nose at me, standing as straight as an arrow, an artificial stillness bolting her limbs in place. Juniper always held herself with complete control, even when she thought no one was watching. Aloof. Cold. Unrelenting. As though she didn’t trust a single other person to help her carry the load. Years ago, I’d seen her tough outer shell as a challenge, crack it just right and you’d be rewarded with her soft centre. Now I knew better. Because crack itwrong, and there’d be nothing left to hold the shattered pieces together.

“I think now is exactly the time, if anyone gets to bear witness tothis—” I drew a circle around her with my index finger. “I’m so glad it’s me.”

Come on, sweetheart, play with me.

Instead, she gave me her back, continuing her rendition ofSupermarket Sweep. “Can you stalk me another day?”

“Now, now, harpy, that almost sounded wishful.”

“Can you just fuck off? Just for once …pleasefuck off. I can’t do this with you today.” She clutched a tube of bathroom sealant so tightly in her fist I thought the lid might pop. “Save up those witty little remarks and post them to me. But for now, just leave.Please.”

I looked at her again, finally noting then the lines of tension in her shoulders and jaw. The fresh tears on her cheek.Fuck, I couldn’t handle her crying.“You going to tell me what happened?”

“No.” Her chin tipped proudly.

There was something uniquely satisfying about gainingthe full focus of Juniper’s attention. It thrilled and it terrified. Her eyes pierced, like she could read my thoughts. Like she could read every thought I’d ever had in my life.

“Why?”

“Because you’ll find a way to turn it into a joke.”

What the hell?Yes, I liked to piss her off,lovedit in fact, but could she truly think I wouldn’t help her?

“Pinky swear I won’t.” I held up my hand, extending the little finger I’d broken in high school that never fully straightened.

“Fuck my life,” she muttered, fingers digging through her wet hair. “Fine. I hired Gordon Murray to update some of the bathrooms while Fiona’s away and he flooded half the first floor.”

I laughed. Shit, but I couldn’t help it.

“See?I knew you’d be like this.”

“I’m sorry.” I clutched my stomach. “But seriously? Old man Murray? The guy’s on the waiting list for cataract surgery. Why do you think he takes his grandsons along?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?”

“Everyoneknows that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t gossip like an old fishwife.” She punctuated what was obviously meant as a dig with a cock of one perfectly manicured eyebrow.I wanted to lick that fucking eyebrow.

“Gossiping like an old fishwife might have helped on this occasion.”

I didn’t think it possible, but her scowl deepened. “They should put out a damn bulletin about this shit.”

“Probably.” I nodded to the contents of the bucket. “What’s the trowel for?”

“I grabbed everything I could think of to fix it.”

“Need some help? I’m very handy with a wrench.” I hada full afternoon of appointments but for her, I’d shift stuff around.

“For you to sabotage the situation even more? Thanks, but no thanks.” Shoes squelching, she circled me, gliding to the counter with all the grace of a queen.

Bloody stubborn woman.

Before I could do something ridiculous, like offer to pay for every useless item in that bucket, I strode out the door and across the road to the practice. Handing Simon’s carrier over to my vet nurse, Kelly, who cooed over him like a returning war hero, I pulled out my phone to text Mal:If you have a spare hour. Drive out to Ivy House and find out how bad it is.

His reply came almost instantly. Before April, a weekly phone call from my baby brother was akin to winning the lottery.

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