My brothers are liabilities. Sure, they’re adults now, with adult lives: Ross’s wife, Lucy, a no-nonsense accountant from Sheffield with a tongue almost as sharp as her mind, has beaten most of the stupidity out of him, and Mason has landed his dream job as Head Chef at a swanky restaurant in Edinburgh. But they’re still my idiotic younger brothers, who I’ve saved from more scrapes than I can count on two hands, no matter how much they might pretend otherwise.
“Yes, you. No covering anything, or anyone, in paint. You hear me?”
“That was one time!”
“You painted Bertha green. She was a fucking Highland cow, not a canvas. Do you know how long it took Da and I to clean her up?”
“It was camouflage! She was an MI5 spy! She needed to blend in!”
“Green, Ross.”
“I was nine!”
I shake my head and stalk away, leaving Ross and Ewan alone. A recipe for disaster, but I need to pack down. There is no way I’m leaving my tent in this field. And I’ll need it when Stuart throws me out of my own farm for being such a stupid arse.
“Did you really call a cow Bertha?” I hear Ewan say behind me. “Bit cliché, isn’t it?”
I sigh and keep walking.
Stuart and Ross are right. This is our first big event. Nothing can be allowed to fuck it up. I already feel guilty about taking the week off for the hike, even though Stuart practically packed my kit for me and forced me out of the door. He knows how much it means to me, getting to remember Da like this. And it isn’t like I ever take a holiday otherwise. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a day off – Christmas, probably.
But this? Sleeping with Rowan?
Stupid. Impulsive. Irresponsible.
All things I normally pride myself onnotbeing.
I don’t know what it is about her that inspires this… need in me. A longing so strong, I can feel it even now. Urging me back to her. I worry the guilt is weighing heavy on her too. I wish I could take it away, bring a smile to her face.
I want her to look at me again the way she did last night.
Instead, I pull my tent pegs out of the hard ground, all the while picturing the swell of Rowan’s breast, tasting her on my tongue.
Fuck, it’s distracting.
Tent down and bag re-packed, I return to the entrance of the campsite to see that Priya, Lila and Rowan are back, coffees in hand. Rowan hands me a cup, catching my eyes with hers. They soften, sparking with warmth as our fingers touch.
“I told you,” I hear Priya hiss to Lila.
Lila shushes her, but I catch her looking at us with a knowing smile.
“Shall we?” I ask Ross and Rowan. “Time to face the music, I guess.”
“I think we’ve got room for everyone, if you all squidge up. Might be tight with the bags, but I reckon we can do it in one trip,” Ross says.
“Do what?”
“Take them to the farm.”
“Take who to the farm?”
Ross sweeps his arm at the group. “Your new friends, of course. What? You were planning to strand them here? They need a bed for the night. We’ve got space. It’s called hospitality, Gus. Look it up.”
“Do your family really call you Gus?” Priya asks.
“No.”
Ross claps me on the back. “Course we do. It’s what Ma used to call him. Our precious Gus.”
