Page 67 of Scotch on the Rocks

Her expression was unreadable as she rolled the amber liquid around the glass. She was usually so easy to read, for me, at least, her every thought rolling in her dark eyes. My ignorance made me lash out. “Pitying me, harpy?”

Her head tilted and I couldn’t shake the thought she was seeing right through me. “Perhaps I’m seeing you in a new light.”

After my behavior today, I doubted it was complimentary.

It had only gotten worse at my parents’ house. I’d accused Mum of being selfish. Warned that her desperation to cling to the past would get Dad hurt one day. Even if there was truth to my words, I’d acted like a high-handed prick.

My temples throbbed at the memory of her shattered expression. I bypassed the glass and went for the bottle. “Care to elaborate on that statement?”

“I’ve always seen you as this frivolous Ken doll.”

“A Ken doll?” My imagination conjured up fake muscles and a plastic smile.Yeah … that definitely wasn’t a compliment.

“Like you don’t see it.” She waved a careless hand at me. “The face, the hair, the body. The way everyone in this village hangs on your every word.”

I didn’t agree with the hanging on my every word part, but, “I do have all of those things.” While I immensely enjoyed Juniper listing all of my attributes, I still didn’t get it. “How does that liken me to a children’s toy?”

“Because…” She drew out the word like I was an idiot. “You have an unattainable perfection that people gravitate to. It allows you to say and do whatever the hell you like without the fear of people hating you. I called you disgustingly honest once, but I was wrong … you’re actually a very skilled liar.”

I laughed but it sounded hollow. “I’ve really ruined whatlittle respect you’d gained for me, haven’t I? Though, I can’t disagree with that statement.”

“Hardly. You only lie when it comes to yourself.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, you’re the greatest lie I’ve ever told.”

She froze and I could see the indecision in her eyes, whether to address the statement or ignore it. “While you’re taking care of other people, who’s taking care of you?”

The question took me by surprise. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” Another lie. I’d lethertake care of me. And I’d take care of her right back.

She opened her mouth to continue, but I was done with her prying. For years I’d imagined earning her undivided attention, but the reality wasn’t exactly playing out like the fantasy. For starters, we both had too many clothes on.

I pulled the glass from her fingers. “You asked your questions. Now it’s my turn.” What slipped from my mouth next, I would forever attribute to the intoxicating mix of her scent in my nose and the whisky in my veins. I felt too fucking bold. “Who’s the last person you fucked?”

18

Callum

Hey speaker, play: “Black Magic Woman” by Fleetwood Mac.

Juniper coughed, whisky staining her lips. “Shit – give me some warning next time.”

“Well?” I demanded, too desperate for her answer to be polite.

“No one you know.”

My teeth clacked. I didn’t know if that made it better or a hundred times worse. A sneaking, jealous part of me expected her to say Jamie Stewart, while another had been terrified she’d say Alistair.

“And you?” A touch of curiosity lilted her tone.

“No one you know,” I mirrored. I knew rumours around the village suggested I slept about, but the truth was, a monk had seen more action than I had in recent years. The last time a woman so much as touched me was so long ago, I couldn’t even recall her face. Not that I’d tell Juniper that, I had some pride left.

“Well, that was fucking stimulating.”

I laughed. The sound felt odd after the depressing as fuck afternoon. “Okay, how about this, why have I never seen you with a boyfriend?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t date on the island.”

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but I let it slide and she nodded that I should respond. I chose my words carefully. “I’ve never met anyone I wanted to be with.”

---