She turns on her heel and click-clacks towards the kitchenette.
“Christ, Struan,” Da mutters the moment she’s out of earshot. “What did you do to annoy her?”
“Nothing.” I keep my voice low. “Nothing that I know of anyway.”
I scratch my chin and frown. Aye, I did lay it on a bit thick at first, but I thought she’d thawed a touch recently—first when I helped her with her bed, then again at the barbecue.
But that chill just now? That was a whole new level of ice queen.
“Maybe she’s just stressed about the opening,” Da suggests.
“Aye. Maybe.”
But the niggle in my gut says it’s something else. I just don’t know what.
Lindsey McVey’s cottage sits just up from the harbour, bright blue door, tidy wee garden.
I knock twice and wait. Footsteps approach, then the door swings open and Lindsey beams at me.
“Struan! Come on in.”
She’s dressed in a silky blouse and fitted trousers, hair done up. Bit dressy for a quote visit, but maybe she’s off somewhere afterwards.
I step into the hall, which is just as tidy as outside. The place smells of fresh paint.
“Thanks for coming.”
“No bother.”
“Bathroom’s this way.” She smiles again and leads me down the hall. She shows me in then stays by the door, giving me space to move around the small room. I tap the walls, run a thumb along the old sealant, run the taps. The place isn’t in bad nick—functional, just dated. A bit tired round the edges.
“You mentioned you were thinking of replacing the whole suite?” I say as I examine the pipework.
“That’s right.” She leans against the doorframe. “New tiling, different layout, maybe underfloor heating if the budget stretches. I want it to feel like mine, you know? Fresh start and all that.”
“Aye, I get that.” I pull my tape measure from my back pocket and start working out the dimensions. She talks me through her vision while I measure. Sleek wall tiles, brighter lighting, a rainfall shower. Her tone is polite and businesslike, but every so often I catch wee glimmers of something else. A flick of her gaze when I stretch for a measurement. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear whenever I look her way.
Could be nothing. But also... could be something.
I jot the final numbers in my notebook then snap it shut. “Right. I’ll get a quote to you by the end of the day.”
“Perfect.” She smiles but doesn’t move from the doorway. “Coffee before you go?”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” I step forwards, expecting her to shift aside. She doesn’t.
“Something stronger, maybe?” She lifts an eyebrow playfully. “Wine?”
Ah. So I wasn’t imagining it.
“At this hour? You’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” She steps closer, her fingertips brushing my forearm. Light, but deliberate. “This is a little bold of me—okay,verybold—but I’ve heard it said you’re... well, known for being up for a bit of fun from time to time.”
I give a wee smirk but don’t bite. She’s not wrong.
“I know you’re single, and now that I am too, I thought maybe we could... you know. See where it goes.”
The words hang in the air.
