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“Now that he’s gone, if I could turn back time, I’d change it all. Dad and I would have continued coming to Scotland each summer, and I’d have more memories of him with that huge smile. You can’t change the past, of course, but the Glen Garve whisky?” She raises her glass. “It was his favourite drink too, and when I drink it, I feel like I’m toasting his memory.”

I offer her a supportive smile, just like the one she offered me. I wish I could also reach out and take her hand, as she did for me, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe it’s easier for a woman to touch a man unprompted than the other way around, or maybe . . . maybe I can’t do it because I want to touch her again, and I know I’d be doing it for myself just as much as for her.

“I’m sorry to hear your da is no longer with us. I remember him—not well, but a bit, and in my head he does have a big smile. Please don’t beat yourself up about that, though. I bet he wanted you to be happy, which is why he changed the holidays. I’m sure seeing you happy made him happy too.”

Emily looks thoughtful, and she gazes off to the side, lost in her own thoughts, her expression wistful.

The starters arrive. After her first taste of the pâté, Emily smacks her lips in satisfaction, which I’m pleased to see. The conversation turns to lighter topics as we eat. I polish off the cauliflower wings, while Emily doesn’t leave so much as an oatcake crumb. Not long after, our mains arrive.

When Emily tries the battered halloumi, she lets out a moan of pleasure, reminding me of how she moaned earlier while eating the mac-and-cheese pie.

Jesus. That sound . . .

Right, I need to make this lager my last drink of the night. It’s important I keep a clear head. I can’t forget that Emily is a guest of the hotel.

But . . . I’m really enjoying myself. White-water rafting and dinner on the same day? That’s unheard of for me. I should probably be worrying about leaving Lewis and Jamie unsupervised for so long, but when I’m with this woman, it’s hard to care quite so much about the hotel. She occupies my full attention.

“Are you for a dessert?” I ask once she’s cleared her plate.

“No, I had an entire cream bun earlier, and I shared a snowball with you. I couldn’t stomach any more sweet food today.”

“Fair enough.” I try to hide my disappointment. I’m in no rush for this night to end.

“But . . . I will take another drink, maybe even a few more drinks, depending on how the night goes.”

Shit. There’s no way I’m going to say no to that. There goes my plan to make this my last lager.

I grin at her. “Good! And I know you said you wanted to pay for dinner, but with the drinks, tonight might get expensive. Let’s just go fifty-fifty, eh?”

“Deal.”

Aye, there’s a risk I make some sort of move and embarrass myself. There’s also a very real risk I wake up tomorrow with a hangover, and I know from experience that managing breakfast on a hangover is far from fun. But if Emily wants to stay for drinks, we’re staying.

After ordering another round, I excuse myself to go to the toilet. I’m not gone long, but when I come back, someone is in my seat, chatting with Emily—and it’s not just anyone, it’s Robbie fucking MacDonald.

He’s tall, even taller than me, with dark hair, almost black, and an open leather jacket, his white V-neck T-shirt offering a glimpse of his tattoos. He says something that makes Emily laugh, and jealousy surges through me. Robbie and I have had more than our fair share of run-ins, both as lads and as men.

I stride over to him and slap a hand down onto his shoulder, ostensibly in a friendly way, but with more force than is necessary. “Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Robbie.”

He gazes up at me, his eyes an icy blue, but makes no attempt to move. “Can’t you see I’m having a conversation here?”

I bend down so my head is level with his. “Aye, I can. I was only away for a piss, so you must have swooped in the moment I left. I’m back now, though, so you can fuck off again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

I glance up at Emily. “Quick question. Would you rather spend the rest of the night with Robbie or with me?”

She looks uncomfortable. “Well, I came here with you, Ally, so . . .”

I slap Robbie’s shoulder again. “There you go! You’ve got your answer, so now you can fuck off. No need to make a scene.”

He smirks and shakes his head, but he does stand. “Enjoy the rest of your night,” he says to Emily. “Although I can’t see how you’re going to do that with this guy.” He walks off, leaving not just our table but the pub.

I reclaim my seat. “I’m sorry about him. Robbie and I are the same age, so we went through primary and secondary school together. We never got along—not that Robbie gets along with many folk. Bannock is a nice place, and the people here are lovely, for the most part. But every town has a bad egg, and in Bannock that bad egg is Robbie MacDonald.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Emily bites her lip. “It was actually kind of hot the way you laid your claim to me.”

She giggles, and I’ve no idea how to reply.