“I… erm… pretty much told her she’s wasting away and needs to eat.”
Colin gaped for a few moments. “You did not. Gregory, you know how women can be sensitive about that kind of thing. Honestly. Have you not the sense you were born with, man?”
I felt my cheeks burning. “I’m not known for my tact am I, Col?”
He shook his head with a look of derision. “That’s true. I heard from Ron about how you greeted her when she first arrived. Goodness me, Greg, put brain in gear before engaging mouth.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson. I just wish… I wish I could do something nice for her. You know? I understand what she’s going through.”
As if the wheels were turning in his brain, Colin pursed his lips and stared into space. “Hmmm.” Then he walked away, shouting, “I’ll get the kettle on.”
Nothing more was said and so I set about fixing the tap, drinking coffee, and keeping my feet out of my mouth.
~~~
Mallory invaded my thoughts continuously. As soon as I arrived home, I jumped in the shower, turning the dial to cold, determined to eject her from my mind. The icy stream of water took my breath away as it pounded at my sensitive skin, and for a few moments my focus was drawn away from Yorkshire lasses with chocolate-brown hair and sexy curves. Instead I felt my teeth chattering and wondered if my balls would ever descend again. Once I had tortured myself enough, I switched off the shower and grabbed a warm towel from the radiator, wrapping it around my body and relishing the heat that radiated through to my bones. When I was dry I went downstairs, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and picked up Rhiannon. For some reason Fleetwood Mac always popped into my head when I thought about Mallory; and it turned out the shower had done me no good whatsoever as “Don’t Stop” popped into my head. I began strumming.
The lyrics could’ve been written for her. In fact, I could’ve written them myself, for her. That was the thing I’d discovered about music. I could never express my own feelings very well since Alice did the dirty on me. But I could usually find a song by someone else that said exactly what I was feeling.
Perhaps I’d sing “Don’t Stop” next time I played at the pub, and if she was there, I’d dedicate it to her… Soppy swine. I played a few more songs as Angus lay snoring on the rug in front of me. I stroked his belly with my bare foot, and he smiled. I know they say that dogs can’t smile, but Angus did. I could just tell.
When I was beginning to get tired, I made my way up to bed, stripped naked, and climbed in under the covers. As I lay down, I realized I hadn’t needed a single malt to take away the usual ache.
My eyes fluttered open and I gasped in shock at the figure standing at the end of my bed. Mallory was dressed in the biggest sweater I’d ever seen. I was confused at first as to why she was in my bedroom, but even more so as to why her sweater was getting bigger. I stifled a laugh, remembering that she didn’t like me and that I’d laughed at her before and received a tongue-lashing that made me feel two inches tall.
“I don’t fit, Greg.” Her voice was so sad and a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away on the huge sleeve.
“What do you mean you don’t fit?” I asked.
“I don’t fit anywhere. I don’t fit here in Clachan Seil… I don’t fit back home in Leeds now that Sam has gone… I don’t even fit into my clothes anymore.”
My heart broke and I sat up and crawled to the end of the bed, disregarding the fact that I was naked. I cupped her face in my palms. “You do fit. You do belong. You belong here, Mallory… with me.” I leaned forward, pressing my now prominent arousal into her belly, and was just about to take her in my arms and kiss her—
Chapter Sixteen
I sat at my small kitchen table, drinking a cup of strong coffee. Last night’s dream whirred around in my head; and every time I remembered the part where I was about to kiss her, shivers ran down my spine and I had to adjust myself in my boxers. She was wearing a huge jumper, for fuck’s sake! What’s sexy about that? I slammed my cup down, the thud echoing around the silent room. Most of the contents spilled out and began a rhythmical drip-dripping onto the tiled floor. Cursing to myself, I wiped up the mess I’d made.
Music.
That’s what I needed. Music. I turned on my stereo, hit random, and cranked up the volume, figuring I could deafen my thoughts into submission. Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun” vibrated around the room as I lay back on my couch, eyes closed. The next track had me sitting up and staring at my sound system as if it were forging some kind of conspiracy against me. “Ever Fallen in Love” by the Buzzcocks mocked me through the speakers.
“I’m not in fucking love with her!” I shouted at the graphic equaliser before hitting the off button in a massive huff. I decided to go and do some work on Little Blue, seeing as I wasn’t working at the pub until later.
The sky was a beautiful azure. But the trouble was, it reminded me of the eyes of a particular Yorkshire lass I seemed to be unable to forget about. I touched up a bit of paintwork and sanded down the interior of the cabin. It was a job I’d been meaning to do for a while. Angus sat on the dock, watching me work; his tail wagging as always. He was usually reluctant to set paws on the boat on account of the motion of the deck making him sick.
Eventually I realised that a few hours had passed and I hadn’t thought about Mallory. But as soon as I realised it, there she was, slap bang in the middle of my head again. She stayed there until it was time for work. I growled at myself and made my way down to the pub for my shift, with Angus following behind. He knew he’d be getting some leftovers. Bright dog.
Thankfully the place was busy and it helped me keep my mind away from erotic thoughts of a girl wearing a huge jumper. Don’t judge me. I can’t help what gets my motor running.
I was chatting to a nice old guy who was on holiday in the area. He was asking which of the guest beers I would recommend and I was letting him sample some of them. I caught sight of her as she entered the pub, but she scowled in my direction and so I pretended I hadn’t seen her. I let her approach the bar, and when I’d finished chatting to the tourist, I walked over. She eyed the logo on my T-shirt as if trying to figure out its meaning, and I guessed she’d never heard of A Perfect Circle. It afforded me time to surreptitiously check her out. Her breasts were smaller now. She wore a fitted red sweater that had my mouth watering. She was still curvy, thankfully; although why I should be particularly thankful for that, I had no clue.
I nodded at her and then stupidly said, “You came out, then.”
Without smiling she replied, “I guess so, or else I’m a very realistic hologram.”
I offered to buy her a drink and she made the mistake of ordering a Jack and Coke. She had clearly forgotten where she was—in a pub in the Highlands that served the best Scottish whiskeys money could buy. Of course, me being me, I wasted no time in pointing the fact out to her and once again immediately wished I hadn’t opened my big mouth. Once I’d put her drink in front of her, I passed her a menu and reminded her about the steak pie.
After I’d served a couple more people, I was back before the dark-haired beauty… I mean Mallory.
“What are you eating, then?” I growled in my usual charming manner.
“Well, you recommend the pie so I’ll go for that, please.” She smiled despite my crappy attitude.
“Mashed tatties or chips?”
“Mash, please.” This time her smile was a little sarcastic in its nature. Mash, my arse. I still thought she needed feeding up.
“Chips it is, then.” I grinned and walked away before she could protest.
Stella was beavering away in the kitchen when I took Mallory’s order through.
“Oh, she came, then?” she asked with a smile that told me she’d seen inside my head.
“It would appear so, yes.”
“Are you going to chat to her? You know, make her feel welcome in your capacity as bar manager?”
“In my capacity as bar manag
er? There’s only me and you. You own the bloody place, so who do I manage? My bloody self?” I laughed.
“Oh, shut up, Greg, and go take her food, will you?” She passed me the plated-up meal and made a face at me.
Once I’d placed the food in front of Mallory, I walked away again. Stella had come through from the kitchen and gestured that I should go back and talk to her. We had a nonverbal conversation of hand signals and raised eyebrows which ended in me sticking up two fingers at her. She just laughed. Nothing much fazed Stella.
Conceding defeat, I pulled out a chair and sat opposite Mallory where she was tucking into the pie. I’d known she’d like it. When I asked her if she was enjoying it, she just nodded. After a pause where I watched as she chewed and blushed, I had to break the silence, seeing as I felt like I was imposing and that Stella had got it totally wrong.
“Anyway, have you got that workshop sorted yet?”
“How did you know about that?” she asked with a puzzled expression and a mouth full of pie.
“The guy who lived there before, James McLaughlan. I did a bit of work for him a few years back. A bit of rewiring and stuff. He moved up north to be wi’ his family. Nice guy. He used to make wooden toys for the hospital and the hospice in Oban,” I explained.
We chatted a bit about Mallory’s craft business and the things that she made. She spoke with a light in her eyes that had been missing since the funeral. It was clear that she loved what she did.
She took a large gulp of her drink. “Funny you should mention the workshop actually.”
“Aye? Why’s that?” I narrowed my eyes, wondering what was coming next.
She hesitated as if choosing her words carefully. “Well, you mentioned earlier that you were fixing Colin’s tap, and I wondered if you could come and have a look at the sink in the workshop.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and my attention was momentarily drawn there. To that luscious, pink flesh. I gulped and flicked my eyes up to meet hers again, realising there was uncertainty in her gaze. “If you have the time, obviously, no pressure.”
She wants my help. Huh. “Oh, right. Aye, I could come and have a wee look. What seems to be wrong with it?”
“I think it may need a new tap altogether. It won’t budge.”
I tried to think back to what I was supposed to be doing the day after but decided that whatever it was, I could move it on.
She watched me as if expecting me to say no. “If you can, I thought maybe I could make you that chalkboard you mentioned when I saw you earlier. You know, by way of payment and to save you a job.”
So we were going to trade our skills, then? I liked the sound of it. I couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across my face, and I held out my hand. Mallory looked puzzled at the gesture, so I clarified my meaning.
“Got yourself a deal, Mallory.” She grasped my hand and smiled. Her skin was soft and smooth, and her hand was swallowed up by my huge shovel. “I’ll come around tomorrow and have a wee look if you like.”
“Great.”
I released her hand and she blushed bright pink.
Too damn bloody cute.
When I got home after my shift that night, I had the worst set of butterflies known to man. I was a six-foot-plus-tall, thirty-seven-year-old man—but the way my stomach was churning, you’d have been excused for thinking I’d regressed back to my teenage years. I couldn’t sleep. Okay, I usually couldn’t sleep, but this was worse. So there I lay in my bed all fucking night. Wide awake as visions of a chocolate-haired girl in just an oversized sweater danced around my mind, tantalising and torturing me with something I could never have and shouldn’t want.
Chapter Seventeen
I dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt and my combats, seeing as the weather was bright outside, and at eight o’clock sharp I knocked on Mallory’s door. I waited for a while until she opened it, looking rather bleary-eyed.
I was grinning like an idiot. “Morning! Am I too early? Just thought I’d call in as I was out and about, so shall I have a look at that tap?” I was lying through my teeth, of course. I’d been up since the crack of dawn, looking forward to it. But she didn’t need to know that.
She looked befuddled and I wondered if she’d forgotten I’d said I was stopping by. “I’m not exactly…” She gestured at her pyjamas.
I looked her up and down and once again was taken by how cute she looked; all rumpled from sleep. “Oh, no bother, they’re very fetching. Get the kettle on, eh? Shall I just go away up there? I know my way.” I realised I was talking at about three hundred miles an hour and blamed the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
She chuntered something sulky under her breath, but when I explained that I hadn’t heard and asked her to repeat what she’d said, she was all smiles. Funny woman.
I made my way up to the workshop at the end of Mallory’s garden and got out my tools. Getting down on my back under the sink, I didn’t take long to figure out what was wrong with the bloody thing. Lack of use had caused it to seize up.
Mallory walked in with some coffee and peered down at me with a worried expression. “How bad is it?”
“Hard to say at the moment, the nuts are all seized… and there’s nothing worse than seized nuts!” I couldn’t help laughing at my own joke. I killed myself sometimes. Shame no one else really got my daft sense of humour. I heard her giggle and it was a really sweet sound. She switched on the CD player in the corner and we both sang along to Foo Fighters as I worked on freeing the nuts. Ha-ha! Still cracks me up now. I smiled as we both sang along. It was strange how I didn’t mind really, considering my usual feelings toward audience participation. Although maybe it was just because I wasn’t on the stage. Or… maybe it was simply because it was her doing the singing.
She went silent and I could see her in my peripheral vision examining my inked bicep. “That’s an interesting tattoo on your arm, Greg, what does it mean?”
I knew it. I knew she’d ask. I’d been waiting for it. The trouble was, I didn’t want to talk about it. When I did, it lowered my mood. And today was a good day.
“Ah, it’s just something I had done last year.” I hoped my short answer would get the message across that the topic wasn’t for discussion. But no, she was a bloody tenacious little thing.
“Oh, right. Why K2? What’s the significance?”
“Maybe it’s a story for another time, eh?” I stood, walked over to my coffee, and drained the mug—despite the vile taste—before getting back to work. Absentmindedly I thought how strange it was that someone so lovely… I mean someone with such good taste bought such crappy coffee. The conversation died and she’d clearly got the point that the tattoo wasn’t up for discussion. After standing there in silence for a few minutes, she said she was heading back up to the house.
When she’d gone I sat there for a while staring into space. The tap was fucked and needed replacing. And I was trying to think of ways to spend more time with Mallory, so it was perfect. Only for the purposes of making amends for my shitty behaviour.
That’s all.
Nothing else.
Not a thing.
When I was packing my tools away, she appeared again. She was showered and dressed, looking fresh and smelling amazing. As I inhaled through my nose and briefly closed my eyes, my blood rushed south. She asked if I was finished and I explained about the tap’s needing to be replaced. I said I’d be back the day after to fix it, and she seemed concerned that she was putting me out.
She really wasn’t.
“It’s fine. I’ll squeeze it in. It’s not a massive job. I’ve got to go now ’cause I’m working on my boat this afternoon and I need to get lunch before I go.”
“Oh. I could’ve made you some sandwiches or something to take, it’s the least I could do.”
I glanced up at her and caught another nose full of her fragrance. My body’s reaction to her made anger spike within me. It was too soon, and guilt crawled under my skin once again. “I’m quite capable o
f making my own sandwiches, thank you,” I snapped and immediately felt shitty. Hello, mouth, allow me to reintroduce my foot. She dropped her gaze, which told me I’d stung her with my words for about the hundredth time “I’ll show myself out,” I told her as double the guilt descended on me.
As I walked away, my phone rang and I glanced at the caller ID. It was Mairi’s father. My stomach dropped and my heart hammered at my ribcage.
“Aye, what is it?” I stood frozen to the spot.
“It’s Duncan, can you talk?”
“No, I’m just finishing a job.”
“Okay, I’ll make it quick. They found a backpack. Thought it was Mairi’s.”
Fuck! “Where did they find it?”
“About a mile away from the last find. It wasn’t hers, but I wanted to let you know they’re still looking.”
“Aye, okay. Thanks for letting me know.” I ended the call and shook my head. Despair washed over me at the whole damned situation. I was trapped in some kind of limbo; unable to move forward and just as unable to let go of the past. Filled with sadness, I turned back to Mallory. “See you tomorrow.”
~~~
Once I’d dropped my tools in the Landy, I got in and made my way to the boat. It was a great day for sailing and I felt sure I’d get some tourists along. I had foregone lunch on account of being sick to my stomach over my attitude to Mallory. One of these days I’d make her smile instead of frown. It was my goal. I just had to figure out how to go about it.
I pulled on my favourite woolly hat to keep my hair out ma face and placed the little sign I’d made ages ago on the marina. It was looking a little worse for wear, and I wondered if I should get Mallory to make me a new one. If she’d ever talk to me again, which was doubtful.
A couple of hours passed and I was contemplating going out on my own, but I could feel eyes on me. And when I turned, it was her. I couldn’t help smiling. “Hey, you’re out again. It’s becoming a habit.”
For a minute she seemed pissed off. I was puzzled. I usually knew what I’d said wrong.
Bridge of Hope Page 9
