Page 63 of Scotch on the Rocks

Juniper stared back at me impassively, not a single sign of what occurred at the game on her lovely features. My body turned hot, suddenly nervous she might somehow sense every dirty thing I’d imagined over the past days. Namely, her hands pressed to my shower wall. But all she said was, “Nice shiner.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“It was an accident!” Mal spluttered.

A pretty shade of pink crawled over her cheeks and her eyes flicked to Mal and Boy, like she’d only just noticed their presence. “Hey, Mal.”Fuck. Would I never grow used to her bashful side? While I adored her viciousness, I enjoyed her blushing even more.

“June.” Mal nodded back. And that was the extent of their conversation.

I, for one, wasn’t done. Far from it. “Fancy seeing you here.” Mal glanced between us. I paid him no mind. If he wanted to ask, he could ask and I’d answer honestly.

I’d been consumed with an addictive weightlessness since word-vomiting my feelings. Even if things never went further, the seal had been ripped off. I was done pretending I wasn’t fucking ecstatic every time our paths crossed.

She held up a bundle wrapped in paper. “The fabric came in for room five’s new curtains, but they need hemming.”

“Excellent,” I said, curious about the fabric she’d chosen. “I’ll come with you.” Somewhere along the way, the refurbish at Ivy House had started to feel likeourproject. Forgotten crates still in hand, I nodded for her to lead the way to the seamstress. Before I made it a step, Mal swooped in, scooping the bottles from my arms with an ease I always envied. “I’ll take these. Meet you back here in fifteen.”

“You’re certain?” I searched his expression.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m a grown man, I think I can handle a single drop-off alone.”

I thanked him with a clap to the shoulder. “Want me to grab food from Brown’s?”

He shook his head, already backing away with Boy. “April baked lemon muffins.”

“What?” He’d kept that one fucking quiet when I’d been on his doorstep at five a.m. The prick didn’t even have thenerve to answer, simply turned on his heel and disappeared into the stream of people.

With a curse, I turned back to Juniper, only to find her strolling away too. “Hey,” I broke into a jog. “Wait up.”

She slowed. Marginally. “Why?”

She had to be joking. “So I can walk with you.”

“Again.Why?”

Stubborn, stubborn woman. Luckily for the both of us, I had the patience of a saint. “Because we’refriends.” I emphasised the word and that pretty pink covered her cheeks again.Damn, confessing my feelings might be the best thing I’ve ever done.“Friends run errands together sometimes.” The smallest of smiles curled her lips as she looked between me and the path, only for it to give a heartbreaking wobble a second later. Up close I could see the skin around her eyes was red and puffy, like she’d been crying.You’re killing me, sweetheart.I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Did Shakespeare piss in your cereal?”

She gave a wet laugh. “You know, pissy Cheerios would actually be better than the horrific realisation thatyoumight be my best friend right now.”

My girl knew how to make a man feel special, I’d give her that. “Nah,” I said. “Heather’s always had a flair for the dramatics, she’ll come around.” Once I reminded her it was none of her damn business. “And you’re forgetting a certain redheaded pageant queen. We’ll call it second best.”

She clucked her tongue, pretending to think about it. “Make it fifth best.”

“Fuck off. I at least want in the top three.” I turned, walking backwards so I could see her face when she released the smallest huff of laughter. It made me feel ten feet tall. “So does this friendship come with a bracelet?”

“Absolutely. One of those woven ones with a little charmhanging from it.” Fuck she was cute when she was playful. Even cuter when she tried to pretend her eyes weren’t roving over me like mine were her.

She came to a stop, that fledgling smile sagging into a frown as something over my shoulder caught her attention. I turned. A handful of tourists and dogs on leads milled about, minding their own business. But there, under the awning of the florist, I noticed Jill Mortimer and two other local women. Huddled in a tight circle, take-out coffee cups in hand, they glanced between us then laughed like schoolgirls.

Noticing my stare, Jill flushed a little and offered a loose-fingered wave. I nodded in acknowledgement, my attention already straying back to Juniper. “Are they above me in the friend ranking?” Other than Heather and April and occasionally Jamie, I didn’t see her talk to many people in the village.

She snorted and the short strands of her hair shook. “No. I barely know them.”

“They’re staring at you like they do.”

She shook her head again, as though I were an idiot for not cracking the code. “They aren’t staring atme. Well … not just me. They’re staring at us.”

“Why?”

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