Page 11 of Snowflakes Over Micklewick Bay

Hannah fixed her aunt with a stony glare as she shook droplets of water from her hands and reached for a paper towel. The woman couldn’t have been more obvious if she tried. She’d give Jane Austen’s Mrs Bennett a run for her money, that was for sure.

‘Sounds like a good plan to me.’ Lachie looked decidedly happy with the suggestion.

‘But what if—’ Hannah’s objections were sliced off quick as a flash, which came as no surprise to her.

‘No buts, I can manage. You could do with a breather away from that hotplate, it’s been roasting in here today, and you yourself said we should close soon since we’ve just about sold out of everything. You’ve got no excuse, now go on, shoo!’ Colleen picked up a tea towel and wafted it at her niece, chasing her towards the door. ‘And don’t forget your tea. Oh, and you can take a bottle of water for Lachie – that’s what he had yesterday.’ She went to the fridge.

‘All right, keep your belly-whackers on, Auntie Coll,’ Hannah muttered as she removed her apron and hung it on the back of the door. Turning to her aunt she took the proffered bottle and shot her another of the stern looks that seemed to have increased in frequency since yesterday. ‘You are getting so bossy! I don’t know what’s got in to you.’

‘Needs must.’ Her aunt treated her to another one of her wicked grins. ‘And I’ll have you know, I’ve never worn belly-whackers in my life; never even owned a pair, thank you very much.’

The sound of Lachie laughing to himself filtered into the burger van.

‘Hmph.’ Hannah gave her aunt a parting look before she opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine to see Lachie waiting for her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Her heart responded with a flip and her knees began to tremble. He was wearing his kilt again, this time with a pale purple polo shirt. He looked impossibly handsome. Roly, who was on the end of a lead, wagged his tail happily as he lunged towards her.

‘I reckon that’s cupboard love, Roly the rascal.’ Hannah giggled.

‘There may be an element of that, but I can tell he genuinely likes you.’

Hannah was surprised at how happy hearing that made her feel.

Her heart was dancing in her chest as she made her way over to the picnic tables, Lachie walking beside her. Wafts of his cologne floated under her nose – hints of sandalwood mingling with the scent of soap. His height surprised her. At five-feet-five, she considered herself to be of average height for a woman, but he positively towered over her.

‘You’re so tall,’ she said, glancing up at him, squinting. The sun felt soothing and warm on her face.

He looked down at her and laughed, a warm, rich sound that made her heart beat faster. It was then she noted his long lashes that curled at the ends and framed his green eyes perfectly. ‘I’m six-four; I get my height from my father. It’s the same for my younger brother, Duncan.’

‘Right.’ She nodded. Oh, blimey! She could feel herself falling for him. How was this possible when they’d barely spoken to one another?

‘Can I ask you something?’ His question came as a surprise.

‘Um… yeah, I suppose so.’ Whenever someone said this, Hannah’s immediate thoughts were that they were going to quiz her about her family and her background. And now her heart started to beat faster but for a different reason. The sound of traffic whooshing by played out in the background as they walked across the grass.

‘It’s nothing bad – at least, I don’t think it is.’ He turned to her, evidently picking up on her reaction. ‘I was wondering what “belly-whackers” were? I heard you and your aunt talking about them, but it’s an expression I’ve never heard before.’

Hannah burst out laughing, relief washing over her.

‘What?’ he said, laughing too.

‘They’re pants,’ she spluttered between her giggles.

‘Pants?’

‘Yeah, belly-whackers are big knickers, the sort that come up to your armpits.’ The look on Lachie’s face made her laugh even harder.

‘Seriously? You have knickers that come up to your armpits? You’re honestly telling me such a thing exists? Is it exclusively English, or Yorkshire even?’ He was laughing hard now, too. ‘Please tell me where you buy them; I’m tempted to invest in a pair, or even just to see what they look like.’

‘Well, maybe saying they come up to your armpits is a bit of an exaggeration, but they’re definitely high rise as well as being pretty roomy. And in answer to your other question, I think belly-whackers is a Yorkshire, or maybe even a northern expression, and, as far as I’m aware, it’s usually used to refer to women’s knickers rather than men’s, but I could be wrong there; could be used for both, I s’pose.’

‘Okay, thank you for enlightening me on the subject. Though I must say, I find the word belly-whackers amusing so I think I’m going to borrow it, if you don’t mind? Belly-whackers,’ he said, as if trying the expression out for size.

‘Borrow away.’ Hannah smiled. Even the way he said ‘belly-whackers’ with his gentle Scottish accent made the butterflies in her stomach come out to play.

‘Ahh, you can’t beat a high-brow discussion,’ said Lachie, grinning at her.

‘Agreed,’ she said, as they reached the picnic table, opting for one that was partially in the shade of an overgrown hawthorn hedge.

‘Your aunt’s a bit of a character.’ He sat down opposite her, flashing the heart-melting smile that had turned her emotions upside down and given them a thorough shaking yesterday.