Alastair had been all but nodding off in his ale an hour or two earlier, probably because he’d ignored Frampton’s warnings and taken a pain pill before Kat had exiled him over here. Brodie had fed him a bowl of Marta’s Thursday stew, then had one of the lads get him back across the street. Where, presumably, Kat had gotten him upstairs and into bed for some much-needed rest. Probably she’d decided to stick close for the night. Like most men of his acquaintance, himself included, Alastair wasn’t the best of patients. But then, neither was Kat. Nor, he imagined, did she likely make a particularly good nurse.
He grinned as he wiped down the bar. Perhaps it was just as well he steered clear of the Henderson clan for a wee bit. Let things settle back to normal. He still hadn’t the faintest clue what bee was in Kat’s bonnet earlier today. Women. Love them he did, but pretend to understand them? Not a chance.
He finished cleaning, then drew another ale for one of the few travelers in Hagg’s that night. He liked springtime. The occasional tourist wandered in, but mostly it was the townsfolk, all emerging happily into the sunlight after a long winter. He loved the settled pace of life in Glenbuie, the steady rhythm and flow, as dependable as the change of seasons. Tending bar might not seem the most aggressive career goal, but although the Chisholm clan holdings did require a good bit of effort by all four brothers to stay afloat, all of them were in firm agreement that happiness, not a fat bank balance, was the truest sign of success. By that measure, well, other than his oldest brother, Dylan, perhaps, they’d all achieved a great deal of success. And Dylan would find his way, Brodie was certain of it. Time had a way of healing even the harshest of wounds.
Looking around the pub, he felt such a peace within himself. Who would have thought it? The rapscallion Chisholm lad, an entrepreneur before the age of thirty, and a successful one at that. His own place, filled with all the people he loved most. Hagg’s was the heartbeat of the village, located right on the square. Everyone stopped in at some point, for a pint or two, maybe some of Marta’s stew or a hearty platter of fish and chips, followed by a game of darts or billiards, a bit of dancing when someone brought a fiddle. More importantly, they came to talk, catch up on the business of the day, share the triumphs and curse the failures. And Brodie was right in the midst of it, reveling in the thrum. He couldn’t imagine a finer place to be.
Just then the big oak door pushed open, letting in a sliver of lamplight…along with the more cheerful sight of Daisy MacDonnell.
Brodie’s grin widened. Maybe there were one or two finer places a man could be after all. He hadn’t quite yet made up his mind about the newcomer, though some of Alastair’s comments earlier today had admittedly given him pause, but in the interim, there was no denying she was certainly a fair sight to look at. And nice scenery, in his estimation, was never a bad thing. Given the number of heads that swiveled in unison as she stepped into the darker environs of the pub, he wasn’t the only one. Which came as a surprise to exactly no one.
The available men in Glenbuie and surrounding parts—although the attention being paid to their newest resident certainly wasn’t exclusive to the single lads—definitely outnumbered those who were already spoken for. Most often it was the occasional wandering traveler or busload of tourists who brought welcome respite to the gender drought the village had been suffering through over time. An actual permanent resident was both rare and welcome. For the most part. Brodie imagined there were one or two significant others out there who weren’t too happy to see their men’s heads swivel.
He smiled. He had faith, however, that home and hearth would win out every time. He felt a little pull inside his chest at the thought. Lately, he’d been wondering about that very thing. He had his brothers, and they were close enough, and Lord knew everybody in Glenbuie felt like family to him in one way or another. But there was something else tugging at him lately. He found himself watching the couples that came into Hagg’s more and more of late, how they laughed together, played together, sometimes even argued together…and, ultimately, left together. He thought about that a lot as he climbed the stairs to his rooms above the pub each night, after closing up. Alone.
“So, what does a girl have to do to get an ale around here?”
So caught up in his reverie, he hadn’t realized Daisy was standing across the bar, an expectant smile on her pretty face. He’d also been so caught up that he hadn’t noticed the hush that had fallen in stages across the breadth of the pub. Those seated at the tables first, followed by those in the back, shooting pool or tossing darts.
“What?” challenged an irritable and entirely familiar voice. “Did I grow another head when I wasn’t looking? Rhys, you better snap your mouth shut before you catch a fly. And Conner, I believe you owe me a quid from that thrashing I gave your dart game last week, so the first round is on you.”
Brodie stood there, damp rag clutched loosely in one hand, a look of pure shock likely etched on his face. “Kat?”
The object of his attention, and everyone else’s, judging from the complete silence, turned and scowled at her apparent partner in crime. “See? I told you this was a ridiculous idea. Everyone knows I can’t pull this off.”
“I’d like to see you pull it off,” Fife shouted, his words slurred more from the toothless grin that accompanied the offer than the amount of ale in his belly. He raised his empty mug in her direction, finally breaking the extended silence as a riff of laughter skated through the crowd.
Daisy leaned closer to her compatriot and whispered none-too-quietly, “Well, it would help if you weren’t quite so surly about the whole thing.”
“Surly?” She turned to Brodie. “Am I surly? Never mind,” she added quickly, seeing his grin reappear. “And not a word from you about this.” She motioned to the brightly colored sundress she was wearing. And quite fabulously, if he did say so himself.
He nodded easily in response, knowing once he got over the absolute shock of seeing Kat Henderson in anything other than dungarees or coveralls, he would have a lot to say about it. All good, he was thinking.
“Besides,” she went on, “you’d be surly, too, if you had to dress up like this.”
“Oh, I imagine I’d be more than surly,” Brodie agreed, folding his arms. “I’m not big on dresses. I have the devil of a time finding ones that fit across my chest. I’ll stick with the occasional kilt.” He shot Daisy a wink. “My legs I don’t mind showing off.” He leaned over the bar and glanced down. “I’m just wondering why you’ve waited so long to show off yours,” he told Kat, much to the agreement of the rest of the pub patrons, if the sudden lusty cheer was anything to judge by. Instead of being flattered, however, Kat turned six shades of red and clutched Daisy’s arm.
“That’s it, I’m out of here. I appreciate the idea and the effort, really I do. But the last thing I need is a drink. My judgment is obviously already impaired beyond recognition.”
“Would you hush?” Daisy leaned closer then and whispered something in Kat’s ear. Brodie could barely make out what she was saying, but it was something along the lines of, It’s working, you idiot. Isn’t this what you wanted?
Was what, what Kat wanted? And since when were Kat and Daisy bosom pals? Last he saw, Kat was staring daggers at the Yank. But before he had time to puzzle any of that out, Kat replied, “I don’t know what I want, but I do know I can’t go about it like this.” She gestured to the flowery shift she had on, then flipped at her hair. “Or this.”
That was when Brodie realized that, for once, Kat was wearing her hair down. He’d been so caught up with the dress…and those legs…Of course he’d seen it down over the years, but usually that was only when she was in the process of braiding it back up again. It was all shiny and wavy, tumbling over her shoulders and partway down her back.
“I like it,” he said to nobody in particular. Both women looked at him, and he shrugged a bit sheepishly. “The hair, I mean. And the dress.” When Kat’s eyes narrowed, he quickly added, “Of course, I liked your hair
before, too.” Women. Damn, but he never knew what was going on in their minds. Here she went to all this trouble, but she was mad now that anyone was noticing? Like they wouldn’t have? Somebody explain that to him.
“See?” she told Daisy, as if his comment explained everything. “Honestly, Daisy, I really can’t do this. He’s all yours.”
“But I don’t want—”
Daisy’s protest was cut off when Kat made a beeline to the door, amidst a few catcalls, an appreciative whistle, and another toast from Fife. Brodie tracked every step of her departure, and was still staring, somewhat dumbfounded, for a full ten seconds after the door closed behind her.
“Well,” Daisy said at length as the pub activity finally returned to its normal level of chaos. “So much for winning new friends and influencing people.” She slid onto a stool and propped her elbows on the polished oak bar, sinking her chin into her hand. “I should have left well enough alone, but no.”
“Ah, she’ll be fine. She’s been acting a wee bit off lately for who knows what reason, but she’ll snap out of it. Don’t take it personally.” Brodie drew her an ale and slid it across the bar to her.
“Thanks. But I still feel stupid.”
“Maybe if you explain what that little experiment was all about I can sort it out for you. I know Kat pretty well. Better than most, actually.”
Daisy sipped her beer and seemed to think long and hard about his offer. Although what there was to think about, he had no idea.
“She looked good,” he offered. “If that helps.”
Daisy just took another long sip of ale. “I shouldn’t have meddled,” she said at length. “I mean, I’ve only been here a few weeks and I’m still getting my bearings. It’s just, it seems like there aren’t many single women my age and I thought maybe Kat and I might hit it off. I know we’re a bit different—” She stopped when he snorted. “See? I knew I shouldn’t have meddled.”
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way, but you two are different.” Earlier today, when Kat had seemed downright bristly, had someone asked him he’d have said those two would have made an improbable pair. But then it was back to that not understanding the whims of women thing. In his experience, stranger things had happened. And he sort of thought it was nice that Kat looked to be taking Daisy under her wing.
Though, come to think of it, maybe Daisy had been doing the under-the-wing taking. He grinned at that. No wonder Kat had been so prickly just now. She was hardly the type to let others dictate to her.
Daisy sighed, took another quaff. “You’re right, but we’re still women of a similar age, and so I thought it might be nice to get to know her better. Maybe our different backgrounds and life experiences would lend themselves to an interesting friendship. Or something like that. And it did, sort of. Briefly. We got to talking and I sort of talked a bit about my past, then she sort of unloaded a little, and the next thing I know I’m trying to help fix her up with—” She suddenly clamped her mouth shut, then studiously avoided his curious stare while finishing off her ale at an alarming rate.
“Daisy—”
She slapped the mug down on the bar and began fishing through her purse. “I should be going. I have a lot to do if I’m going to be contacting your brother with my proposal.”
“I haven’t said anything to him yet, but we haven’t talked since I saw you this morning.”
“No, that’s okay, that’s okay.” Suddenly she was in a big hurry to leave. Or, as she continued to avoid looking at him, get away from him.
Brodie laid his hand on her arm, stilling her frantic search for her wallet. “The ale is on the house.”
“That’s okay, I can—”
“Daisy.”
She stilled. “Okay. Thanks.” But she still wasn’t looking at him.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly. Earnestly. “I really want to know.”
She said nothing, then finally blew out a long breath. “I so should have just gone straight upstairs tonight.” She dipped her chin further. “I promised myself when I came here that I would take things slowly, not get involved until I got a good feel for the town, the people, and here it is, only three weeks in, and I’m already embroiled in something that’s none of my business.”
Brodie heard the sincere redress in her tone, but found himself smiling a bit anyway. He nudged her arm with his hand. “Hey.”
Her shoulders slumped a little more, but she finally looked up at him. Any other time, seeing such a hangdog expression on her usually sunny face would have bothered him, but at the moment, it just made his smile grow a little. After all, she’d only been here three weeks—how bad could the situation really be?
“I have no idea what’s going on with you and Kat, but trust me, she’s the most self-sufficient person I know. Given how bad you seem to feel about whatever it is, I’m sure your heart was in the right place. She’ll know that.” Of course, he had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but he hated to see Daisy torture herself. “Besides, Kat rarely lets anything defeat her for very long.”
“I just hope I didn’t make things worse.”
“What things?”
She suddenly pushed her stool back. “You know, you’re entirely too easy to talk to.”
Brodie chuckled. “Well, I am a bartender. But you’re not exactly spilling your heart out here, luv. In fact, it’s rather like pulling teeth.”
“If you were anyone other than you, I probably would be.”
He frowned, confused. It was a feeling he was getting entirely too familiar with.
“I could use an outside opinion, and you’d probably be the best person for a lot of reasons, which also makes you the worst person.”
He shook his head, laughed. “Females.”
Daisy laughed a little, too. “I know I’m making total hash out of this. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“I can’t say one way or the other since I still haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. But I’ve never been short on offering up an opinion on things I know nothing about, so if you can’t find one that suits you, feel free to come back by and ask me. I’ll do my best.”
She smiled, nodded, gathered her purse, then paused, looked at him. “You are a really good guy, Brodie. If Kat knows what’s good for her—” She shook her head and shot him a fast grin. “I really need to shut up now and just leave. The meddler in me must be stopped.”
He leaned on the bar, propped his chin on his hands. “You do realize you’ve gotten me quite curious. One of the reasons I like runnin’ Hagg’s is because I’m nosier than an auld woman. Which makes me a good listener, too, by the way.”
“I already know you are. Too good.”
“So…?” He let the offer dangle, and when she continued to linger and didn’t immediately take her leave, he nudged a bit more. “Tell me what all this is about between you and Kat. Just because I’m a good friend of hers doesn’t mean I can’t keep my thoughts to myself. I won’t mention this talk to her if you’d rather I didn’t. But I canno’ help if I dinnae know what’s wrong.”
Daisy sighed. Clearly torn.
“Why the dress and the new hairdo?” he asked, figuring they might as well get right to it and stop beating around the subject. “What was the point of it all? Were ye’ tryin’ to make her over or something? Because, you know, Kat isn’t much for frills and the like. Everyone here knows her and loves her for what she is. She doesn’t need all that. I mean,” he turned his palms out, not wanting to offend, “she looked wonderful, as I said, but it’s not her.”
“But you thought she looked good?”
“Sure. Pretty lass in a pretty dress—what’s not to like?”
“So you think she’s pretty?”
That made Brodie pause. “Of course I do—why wouldn’t I?”
Daisy lifted a shoulder. “Well, she plays with auto parts every day and spends a good amount of time every evening scraping grease out from under her nails.”
“She’s an ace mechanic,
” he said proudly, “almost as good as Alastair. Has nothing to do with whether or not she’s pretty.”
Daisy sighed. “Men.”
Brodie laughed. “Why do I feel that we’re both talking at cross purposes here?”
“Probably because we are.” She tapped her fingers on the bar, a look of internal debate clear on her face. “I wish I knew you both better—I’d be better able to figure out how best to handle this.”
“How best to handle what?”
“You really find her attractive?”
Brodie sighed. “Aye, aye. Why is this an issue?”
“You’ve known her forever. Best friends and all that. Have you two ever dated?”
Brodie’s mouth fell open. “No, of course not.”
“Why do you say it like that? You just admitted she was pretty. And though I’ve only been here a short time, I already know that you’re not shy when it comes to the ladies. Is it because you think of her like a sister or something?”
Brodie’s mouth was still hanging open. Was Daisy getting at…what it sounded like she was getting at? Because that was simply too preposterous to contemplate. “No, I don’t think of her like a sister. I think of her like a best friend. I wouldn’t mess with that. She’s closer to me than almost anyone.”
“But you don’t think of her like a sister,” Daisy repeated.
“No. At least, not in the way you mean. I think.” Now he was really confused. And starting to be very sorry he’d pushed his nose into this business. Especially as it was becoming increasingly clear it had something to do with him. “Maybe we should both reconsider our meddling ways,” he muttered.
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