“Learn to take a compliment will you!”
Her mouth clamped shut for a few minutes as they sat in silence once again. Eventually, with the pink hue still to her cheeks, she spoke. “You really thought I was good then?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Better than good, Cat.”
♫♫♫
Catriona
Cat’s breath caught in her throat at his admission. “Oh, thank you.” Her cheeks were warm to the point of near spontaneous combustion and she felt sure the glow must be visible from the International Space Station. She had never been good at accepting compliments. Especially relating to her talents as a musician. All she wanted to do was climb out of the moving vehicle and run away but he had turned in his seat so he was angled toward her.
With his gaze boring into her skin he persisted. “So, where did you learn to sing like that?”
“Oh, erm…I’ve been singing since I was wee. But I studied music at university.”
He nodded and smiled, wagging a finger at her. “Oh yes, I forgot about that. You did say when I met you in London. So what instruments do you play?”
“Classical guitar mainly…and piano…a little bit of accordion. But I don’t play in front of people.”
His sparkling blue eyes widened. “Seriously? Bloody hell, Cat. How come we’ve never talked about this before?”
She glanced over at him and pulled her brows in. “Erm, in case you’ve forgotten we don’t actually know nor like each other and until I saw you again this week I’d forgotten you even existed.”
His smile disappeared and he dropped his gaze briefly. “Oh yes. Sorry.”
She bit her lip. “No, it’s me who should be sorry. That all sounded a bit shitty, didn’t it? I can’t seem to help myself. Whenever I’m around you I turn into a complete bitch.”
He pouted. “It’s good to know I bring out the best in you, eh?”
When she looked over this time he resembled a scolded school boy with his lower lip protruding.
They both burst out laughing at the same time.
The ice was broken.
“Hey, I’ve got my guitar with me back at the pub. Maybe we can have a jam sometime?” he suggested with a hopeful smile.
“Erm…did you not hear the part where I said I don’t play in front of people? And the only jam I’m interested in is the type I spread on my toast. I’m not desperate for the attention unlike some people.” Seriously, Cat. Think before you speak.
If he was affected by her comment he didn’t show it. “Yeah, well…it might be fun. And it wouldn’t be in front of people, it’d just be me and you. And I don’t count apparently,” he muttered under his breath but she heard him anyway.
She laughed. “Hey, I never said anything that nasty.”
“No, I’m saying it for you. Before you knock my ego down any further.”
She stopped smiling. “I never said you don’t count, Nick. I would never say a thing like that.”
He poked her arm. “Hey, come on. I’m jesting. Don’t go all serious and moody on me. It was only a joke. It’s just…well…music is pretty much my life and…you’re kind of the only friend I’ve got here.”
Cat sniggered. “Friend? Me? Lucky you.”
“Yeah…lucky wasn’t the word I was thinking of.”
Cat removed her hand from the steering wheel and slapped out at him. “Cheeky wee sod!”
♫♫♫
Nick
They arrived in the city of Inverness mid-afternoon and it was overrun with shoppers, which was surprising to Nick considering how cold it was. The sub-zero temperatures clearly didn’t deter the locals. Fortunately Nick had had the forethought to contact the largest department store and arrange a personal shopper to aid his search for appropriate clothing. The obligatory non-disclosure form had been emailed from his phone, signed and logged by Cat acting as Nick’s secretary. Under normal circumstances this would have all been done by the band’s management but on this occasion a few white lies had been told to ensure a pleasant and hassle free shopping experience.
After being ushered through a back entrance and led to the third floor, Nick and Cat were shown into a large mirrored room. At one end was a cream leather sofa and beside that was a table set with tea, coffee and petit fours. Nick placed his hand at the small of Cat’s back and led her to sit down. She stared around the room with a look of awe.
“Do you do this kind of thing often?” she asked him whilst her eyes trailed the full length of the plush surroundings.
“It’s the easiest way to shop without being disturbed.”
“I thought I was going to get to dress you in what I thought you needed but now you’ve taken all the fun out of it.” She pouted at him and he couldn’t help the wide grin that materialised on his face.
“Oh yeah. I’m really going to let the one person who I annoy the most kit me out in a new wardrobe.”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Does that mean you don’t trust me?”
He laughed out loud at her silly expression. “Yes. That’s exactly what it means. Now quit your moaning and let’s see what we can find.”
A suited, overly made up and manicured woman walked out from a doorway across the room and smiled flirtatiously at him. Her blonde hair was pulled into a type of knot at the side of her head and he thought she looked remarkably like an air hostess. It was hard to judge her age due to the thickness of the orange goop plastered all over her face. Yuk…I bet she has to chisel that stuff off in the evening.
“Oooh, I wish I could tie a chignon as perfectly as that,” Cat whispered to Nick.
He pulled his brows in. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Cat. I’m a bloke.”
She rolled her eyes as the blonde personal shopping assistant made her way over to them.
The woman bent forward, allowing the best possible angle for him to view her cleavage, and held out her hand.
Nick took it briefly as she introduced herself with a flirtatious smile. “Hello, Mr Dacre…and Miss…erm…” She glanced at Cat, and after dragging her eyes down the full length of her body disdainfully, returned her eyes to Nick once more. “I’m a huge fan of your work. I especially love the song ‘Get You In My Bed’. It’s my favourite song to…work out to.” Raising her eyebrows, she spoke in a sultry voice and stressed the words work out before batting her eyelashes and pouting a little like Marilyn Monroe—only without any of the sex appeal.
Nick fidgeted in his seat as annoyance at the woman’s appraisal of Cat and her subsequent come on niggled at him.
He sat up straight. “Sorry, what’s your name?” he asked in a firm voice.
She stood and pushed her breasts out with a sexy smile. “Alesha. Alesha Grant. I’m your dedicated purchase facilitator.”
“Okay, Miss Grant. Let me get something straight with you. My girlfriend and I are here to buy clothing appropriate for the inclement weather we’re currently experiencing and I would like to point out the non-disclosure document you signed prior to my visit. My girlfriend, Miss McCreadie to you, is to be treated with the utmost respect for the duration of our visit and I would appreciate it if you kept your inappropriate line of thought in check or I will be forced to request that we be served by a different sales clerk.”
Harsh and demeaning but necessary.
♫♫♫
Catriona
Cat’s mouth fell open at the exact same moment that the sales clerk’s clamped shut and her fake tanned face blushed cerise. Cat was stunned. Not only had Nick referred to her as his girlfriend—something she would take him to task about later—but he had defended her against orange-snooty-chignon-bitch and she hated the fact that she liked it so much. The sales assistant visibly shrank before her eyes and she felt a little bad for her for all of ten seconds.
The orange faced woman nodded emphatically. “Of course, Mr Dacre. I apologise. Now if you’ll excuse me I will go and wheel in the rail with some of the items I have chosen based on your emailed list of r
equirements.” She scurried off through the doorway again and Cat turned to gape at Nick.
He held his hands up. “What?”
“You know very well what!”
His eyes widened in what she presumed was an attempt to appear innocent. “Oh, come on. You saw the way she came on to me. And I didn’t appreciate that in front of you.”
What? Why would that make any difference? “But…we’re not…but…I—”
Nick’s shoulders shuddered as he laughed. “Hang on…is Cat McCreadie finally at a loss for words?”
She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t over, Random. I’ll deal with you later. And don’t ever refer to me as your girlfriend again.” She folded her arms across her chest and slumped back on the sofa like an errant teenager. Orange-snooty-chignon-bitch returned and was followed by a younger man wheeling in a long rail that was crammed with clothing. She scrutinised the rail closely and turned to Nick.
Narrowing her eyes Cat asked, “Since when did you start wearing pink floral tops and wrap around dresses?”
His gaze darted around the room. Anywhere but meeting hers. “Um…don’t be mad but—”
She snorted. “Hey, your cross dressing ways are nothing to do with me but just remember, if you piss me off, I haven’t signed an NDA.” She couldn’t help the wide grin forming on her face. She had him now.
Finally meeting her gaze he raised an eyebrow. “Actually, Cat for short. I thought I’d treat you to something nice. You know, by way of a thank you.”
The internal fire swept across her chest and neck and landed on her cheeks once again. This man never ceased to surprise and irritate the hell out of her. “You don’t need to buy me clothes, Nick. I’m capable of buying my own.”
“Yes and I’m aware of that. But I would like to buy you a little bit of something.”
“A little bit of something would be lunch.” She pointed at the rail of clothing. “This gesture would amount to a small mortgage. This is all designer stuff.”
He shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “Don’t be daft. It’s just a few outfits.”
She glanced over at chignon-bitch briefly before turning back to Nick and hissing through her teeth, “Oh no. No…no way.”
He shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, okay. Whatever you want, Cat. I’m not in the mood to argue.”
She folded her arms. “Good.”
He leaned back. “Good.”
She huffed haughtily. “Yes, it is.”
He rolled his eyes. “I agreed with you.”
“I know.”
It was like sulky retort tennis and right then it was forty all. But Nick’s phone rang putting an end to the ridiculous argument. He looked anxious when he glanced at the screen and stood to walk away as he answered it. He held up two fingers in a “two minutes” gesture to her. Chignon-bitch gave her the evil eye whilst she sat there uncomfortably waiting for him to end his call.
When he returned his face was pale and he seemed agitated, twiddling his fingers and chewing his lip. She watched as he sat down beside her and bounced his knee.
Concern for him made her forget her anger from a few minutes earlier. “Is everything all right, Nick?”
He huffed out a long shaking breath. “Yeah…no…sorry about that. They won’t leave me the fuck alone.”
“Who?”
“My management team…the band…the record company.” He ran his hands through his hair; a sure-fire sign that he was feeling uncomfortable.
“Ah.”
He stomped over to the rail and began to grab armfuls of clothing along with pairs of boots and shoes from the table beside the rail. Once he could hold no more he handed them to chignon-bitch. “We’ll take these. Please have them wrapped up immediately and returned here. We need to go.”
Looking like she may topple over at any second, the sales assistant staggered back and placed the pile on the chaise longue beside the rail. She nodded to the young man who had wheeled the rail in and he proceeded to collect the clothing up. He left the room and after Nick handed chignon-bitch his credit card she followed behind her colleague.
“Nick. I told you not to buy me clothes and I know there were some women’s things amongst that lot.”
“Oh…yeah, sorry. Not thinking straight,” he muttered absentmindedly.
Her concern for him was growing. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just need to get out of here.” His breathing was uneven and he looked like a terrified rabbit.
Her heart ached a little for him. “Okay. Well I’m sure they’ll be quick.” She tried to reassure him as he started to pace the room again.
Chapter Ten
Nick
The more he thought about what Den had said during their brief call the more wound up he became. His pacing and erratic breathing wasn’t helping and the strange skip his heart kept doing was freaking him out more than a little.
Oh God, it’s happening again.
His chest tightened and his throat closed. He glanced over at Cat who watched him with wide eyes and her hands over her mouth. Den’s words rang around his head. “You’re in breach of contract if you don’t come back soon, Nick. I can’t cover for you for much longer. You have obligations to the band so you’d better get your shit together. We all love you, don’t get me wrong, and we’ll help you, but you have to come back asap. Think of the fans…”
The thought of facing large crowds again so soon scared the living shit out of him. He couldn’t do it. It wasn’t what he wanted. Not yet anyway. His legs weakened and he clutched his chest as he gasped, trying to fill his lungs. His chest stung and his eyes watered. Memories of the crowds of fans clawing and grabbing at him came back to haunt him and he shook his head, trying to dislodge the vivid imagery. But as he closed his eyes he was greeted with another vivid recollection. This time it was the crazed eyes of the psycho who had attacked him at the airport, fist poised and ready to strike.
As the imaginary fist made contact with his face, Nick’s legs buckled and he fell.
The next thing Nick became aware of was the fact he was laying on the floor, blinking his eyes open and glancing between a very worried, pale-faced Catriona and a paramedic in the standard issue fluorescent jacket—a sight he had hoped he would never see again.
“Wh-what happened?” he asked as confusion and disorientation struggled for supremacy. Reaching up he felt the oxygen mask over his mouth.
This again. Great.
Something squeezed his arm and he looked down at the cuff that hissed as it tightened.
“You had a panic attack, Nick. I was so worried.” Cat’s eyes were damp and glassy. She leaned over and stroked his hair.
He smiled up at her, aiming for a mischievous look. “Sorry for scaring you…and what did I tell you about touching the hair?”
She giggled through her tears. “You’re so vain, Random.”
“And don’t you forget it. And the name is Nick. I think you need a paramedic ‘cos you seem to keep forgetting important things like that.” He pulled himself to a sitting position and looked at the paramedic. “Do I have to go to hospital?” Please say no. Please, please say no.
There was a grave look of concern etched on the man’s face. “I think it would be best under normal circumstances but…well knowing who you are and that the hassle it would pose would only add to your stress levels, I’m going to let you off with a warning.”
Nick smirked. “You make me sound like a criminal.”
The older, grey-haired man smiled. “Well, I could comment about your criminal records.” He chuckled at his own joke and Nick rolled his eyes. But all too soon the paramedic was serious again. “I don’t think you need me to tell you that you need to get a handle on this stress, Mr Dacre. Your lovely girlfriend here tells me this has happened before. I suggest you see someone. A counsellor maybe. You need to talk things through and get to the bottom of things. Catriona is going to make sure you see her local GP. You need to eradicate from yo
ur life everything that’s causing anxiety. Now, I would suggest that you go home and rest. Okay?”
Wondering whether he should correct the man about his relationship with Cat he glanced at her but she just smiled reassuringly and patted his arm.
“Yes. Yes I’m working on it. I know what the triggers are.”
“Good. Well, see that you look after yourself.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “If not for yourself then for that beautiful lassie of yours. She was worried sick. She clearly thinks the world of you.” He packed his medical equipment away, shook hands with Cat and left.
“What did he whisper to you?” Cat enquired.
“Oh, nothing. Just something about getting sorted out.”
“Well, he’s right. You scared the bejingos out of me.”
Embarrassment welled up inside of him as the realisation of what she had witnessed dawned on him. “I’m really sorry, Cat. I ... God I hate that you saw all that.”
“Oh stop, would you? It’s fine, really.”
He glanced around the room. “What happened to the orange sales clerk?”
Cat sniggered. “You’re so mean. She was asked to leave the room. I’ve got your credit card and the clothes you bought are all packaged and ready to go. There’s a team of about twenty waiting to take them to my car,” she teased. “You do know I drive a Land Rover not an articulated lorry, don’t you?”
Smiling, Nick attempted to clamber to his feet but dizziness washed over him and he wobbled precariously.
Cat grabbed out for him and slipped her arms around his torso. “Whoa, steady there.”
“Sorry…head rush.” He gazed down to where she stood holding him and his heart flipped. Much to his further embarrassment other parts of his anatomy sprang to life too, forcing him to step back for fear of being discovered. He inhaled deeply. “I’m okay now. Thanks.”
Her cheeks flamed again as she released one arm from around his body. “Right, well let’s get you home. Well, back to the pub.”
He reached out to stop her from walking away. “Cat, you should know…I’m moving into Rockhill Cottage tomorrow.” He cringed.
The Worst of Me Page 9
