Page 67 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle

Ah, a tourist. For a moment he’d thought she might have been from Portree. ‘I know,’ he said, thinking on his feet. ‘But there are so many wonderful places in Scotland, I don’t think I’d go to the same place twice.’

She looked hurt. ‘We come here every year. I told you that. I said,see you next year. Remember?’

Oh heck… His eyes found Cal’s, who was watching with interest from his seat at the table, and he sent him a pleading look.

Cal took the hint and sauntered over. ‘Mack, mate, I need a word. In private.’ He smiled at the woman. ‘Sorry, it’s a work thing.’ He shoved Mack towards the gents and, once inside, said, ‘You owe me.’

‘Thanks. She’s a tourist and I went out with her last year, but I didn’t expect to see her again.’ Mack stepped to the sink and washed his hands.

‘It’s not nice when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?’ Cal said.

‘Eh?’

‘Freya. I reckon you’ve got it bad, mate.’

‘What are you on about?’ He shook off the excess water, then shoved his hands under the dryer.

‘Freya – you’ve got it bad.’

‘You’re talking rubbish.’

‘I’ve seen the way you look at her.’ Cal made puppy-dog eyes at him.

Mack scowled. ‘Do you know how gormless you look?’

‘It’s the way you look at Freya.’

Mack shook his head. ‘You’re wrong.’ He stepped away from the dryer, wondering why the damned things never dried properly, and wiped his hands on the backside of his cut-offs instead.

‘Am I? I reckon she’s got under your skin.’

‘No chance.’

‘Have it your way, but I know I’m right.’

‘You’re not. Just because you’re all starry-eyed and drooly, don’t assume everyone else is.’

‘Drooly?’

‘Yeah, you drool over Tara.’

‘I do not!’

Relieved that he’d managed to turn the conversation away from himself, Mack thumped Cal lightly on the back and slipped out the door.

The woman was thankfully nowhere in sight.

But as he made his way back to the table, he saw Freya laughing with Jinny and Tara, and he knew Cal was right: hedidlook at her like a love-struck puppy. The problem was that he felt a bit like one too.

He’d better watch his step – falling in love wasn’t on his agenda, and especially not withher.

Mack and Freya had only just left the pub and hadn’t gone more thanten steps, when the first fat raindrops hit. Ten steps more, and theheavens opened.

With a squeal, Freya grabbed his hand and began to run. Mack hesitated for a split second then allowed himself to be towed along as she made a dash for it. He didn’t like to tell her that no matter how fast they ran, the soaking they were about to get was inevitable. But when she dived into the bus shelter, he was glad he hadn’t said anything.

He was disappointed when she immediately let go of his hand, though. It had felt warm and soft, even if her grip had been firmer than a weightlifter on steroids. Resisting the impulse to reach for it again, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Shaking the drops from her jacket, Freya said, ‘I’m hoping this is only a passing shower, but I get the feeling it’s in for the night.’

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