“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says. “I’ll text you tomorrow. We can sort the details then.”
I nod, not quite trusting my voice.
He opens my front door then pauses on the threshold, glancing back. The outside light catches his eyes, turning them to amber. “Goodnight, Ainsley.”
I swallow. “Goodnight, Struan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
STRUAN
The Grays’ house is exactly the kind of place people commission custom oak pieces for. High ceilings, ornate cornicing, a fireplace that deserves more than an off-the-shelf mantelpiece.
Da’s set up by the bay window, the new mantel shelf laid across a pair of trestles. He’s sanding the edges smooth while I work along the chimney breast with a tape measure and pencil, marking out fixing points and checking my levels so everything lines up when we’re ready to mount the wood.
The radio crackles in the background, last night’s rugby being picked apart by the presenters.
“Bloody defence was a shambles,” Da mutters, not looking up.
“Mmm.”
“And don’t get me started on that try they disallowed. It was in, clear as day.”
“Aye.” I’m not really listening. My mind’s elsewhere—specifically, on a certain dark-haired lass with green eyes and a smile she doesn’t hand out to just anyone.
There’s a buzz under my skin that won’t settle. Excitement—and aye, a bit of nerves. Not like me, but this isn’t just any date.Ainsley made me work hard for it, and now that she’s giving me a chance, I don’t want to fuck it up.
I check the time on my phone. An hour to go.
Christ. Time’s crawling today.
“Remember, I’ll need to head off in a bit,” I say. “I’ll be back around three.”
Da glances up. “What’s this for again?”
“Dentist.” I keep my voice casual. “Plus a few errands. The bank, that sort of stuff.”
Lying doesn’t come naturally to me. But Ainsley wants to keep things quiet for now, and I get it, especially after everything she went through with her ex. The last thing she needs is the Ardmara rumour mill cranking into life.
“I’ll make up the time later.”
Handy thing about working on an empty house when the owners are away on holiday: you can be flexible with the hours.
Da eyes me for a second longer then shrugs. “Fine. Just make sure you lock up and set the alarm when you’re done tonight.”
Mum would never have left it there—she’d have badgered me until I cracked. Da’s different that way. He knows when to let something drop.
We fall back into comfortable silence. Just the steady rasp of sandpaper, the murmur of the radio, the scratch of pencil on plaster as I mark another fixing point.
My phone buzzes. I wipe my hands on my jeans and check the screen.
Ainsley
This place you picked, is it nice or fancy nice? Trying to decide what to wear
We’re going for lunch at a sprawling hotel and golf estate called the Glen Garve Resort. It’s near Bannock. I’ve driven pastit umpteen times over the years on my way to Sophie’s but I’ve never once been inside.
From the website the restaurant looks like the kind of place where everything’s laid out just so and you’re never quite sure which fork to use. I’m normally more pub lunches and Sunday roasts, but Ainsley’s special. Deserves to be treated right.
