One corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s fighting a smile.
Brilliant. He’s noticed I’ve turned into a complete idiot.
“Sure thing,” he says.
I retreat at a frankly undignified speed and slip back inside.
Honestly, Ainsley. You came here to escape men like him, but then he takes his top off and you can barely string a sentence together? Pathetic.
I set up my laptop in the kitchenette and stare at my daunting list for today. Outside, the sawing resumes, rhythmic and steady. I can still picture him out there, all that skin and muscle and?—
“Focus, Ainsley,” I mutter. “You’ve got a hundred things to get through, and drooling over your joiner isn’t one of them.”
But an hour and a half later, I’m still stuck on item one—and not because I’m distracted by Struan. No, the booking system keeps throwing error messages about “third-party cookies” that might as well be written in ancient Gaelic for all I understand them.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I glare at the screen. “You absolute piece of shite software. Just bloody work, would you?”
“You okay?” Struan appears in the doorway, dusting wood shavings from his hands. He’s pulled on a shirt, thank God. Before I can stop him, he’s behind me, one hand on the back of my chair as he leans over to see the screen. The scent of sawdust and fresh sweat surrounds me, and I have to fight not to squirm in my seat. Jesus, why does his mere proximity turn my bones to jelly?
“Third-party cookies,” he reads. “Right. I’m good with my hands but useless with technology.” He straightens, and I canbreathe again. “My sister works in IT in London. Want me to give her a ring? She’s brilliant with this stuff.”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks.”
“You sure?”
“Aye. I’ll figure it out.”
He nods and starts to turn away?—
“I think I’m just having one of those days.” The words tumble out before I even realise what I’m saying. Why am I tellinghimthis?
He turns back. “Oh?”
I hesitate, then admit, “Lily had another meltdown this morning. Demanded I pick her up instead of my parents, so now I’ve got to leave early. And I’ve got no Wi-Fi at home until next week.”
“Ah. Isla didn’t tantrum often as a wee one, but when she did? Epic. Once lay down in the middle of Tesco and screamed because I wouldn’t buy her a whole watermelon.”
I can’t hold back a smile. “A whole watermelon?”
“She was three. Logic wasn’t her strong suit.” He tilts his head. “Tell you what, use my Wi-Fi for now. Should reach through the wall between our houses.”
“I couldn’t?—”
“Course you can. Password’s PrettyFlyForAWiFi.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. He grins and shrugs.
“Right, well...” I gesture to my laptop. “I’d best get back to it. But thanks for the password.”
“No bother. Just shout if you need anything else.”
The moment he’s gone, I blow out a breath.
Really, Ainsley? Laughing at his lame Wi-Fi pun? Get it together.
CHAPTER SIX
STRUAN
