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God, it’s irritating how attractively masculine he is.

“What’s in the bag, then?” I ask.

“I got you a fern cake. They’re delicious. And since I wasn’t sure whether you’d had lunch yet, I got you a mac-and-cheese pie too.”

When I hear those words, my stomach rumbles. I could definitely do with a mac-and-cheese pie.

“I’ll start with that.” I hold out my hand.

He passes me a pie from the bag then pulls out another for himself.

“Oh, you got yourself one, did you? Thought you might get to sit and eat with me?”

A smile crosses his lips. “Well . . . that is what’s happening, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” I say noncommittally. I bite into the mac-and-cheese pie, and oh God, it tastes even better than it did yesterday, and yesterday it was phenomenal. How does Morag make these so delicious?

Ally bites into his too. “It wasn’t easy getting these,” he says after his first mouthful. “Morag was very interested in the gossip about last night.”

My cheeks burn, which annoys me. Whatever gossip there is, it’s groundless. Ally made it clear he’s not into me in that way.

I stare at the river, aware of Ally’s gaze on me. I refuse to meet it.

Eventually, he says, “This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well . . .” He lets out a soft chuckle. “You were my first kiss, lass. I suppose nobody forgets their first kiss, but I still remember it so clearly. I never thought I’d see you again, and yet . . . here we are.”

I finally meet his gaze, close enough to him to see the flecks of gold in his irises. Last night, I thought he made it clear he wasn’t interested in me. I figured my drunken self must have misjudged things. But now . . . well, if I’m not mistaken, there’s something there, an invisible connection between the two of us, tugging us together.

Ally finishes his pie and pushes the bag over to me. “The cake is for you.” He stands. “I better get back to the hotel. There’s stuff to do. But I was thinking, even though I told Aidan I don’t have time to start a business with him, maybe . . . well, maybe there’s no harm in me brushing up on my instructor skills. Just in case, you know? So . . . would you like to go climbing tomorrow?”

I’m surprised by this offer and more than a little intrigued. There is something between us—I’m sure of it.

“I’m not the biggest fan of heights,” I say. “But . . . why not? Maybe I should face my fear head-on.”

He grins, and for just a moment—maybe it’s the way his face lights up—but this large, strong man reminds me of the much smaller boy I met seventeen years ago.

“Great! In that case, it’s a date. I’m working in the restaurant tonight, so I can’t join you for dinner, but feel free to come along and try out the food.” He walks off but then stops and turns back. “Oh, and to answer your and your friend’s point, there’s nothing wrong with me. I just thought you’d had too much to drink. But when you invited me back to your room, I was tempted. Very tempted. Just so you know.”

With that, he saunters off along by the river, and with a pounding heart, I watch him as he goes.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALLY

I’m in the garage, laying out climbing equipment on the workbench while classic rock blares on the radio. Between the music and the thought of spending more time with Emily, I’m buzzing this morning.

My phone pings. I ignore it, too busy singing out of tune to “Livin’ on a Prayer”, but then there’s another ping, and another. I pick up my phone. It’s the “McIntyre Clan Group Chat”, which me and my siblings use.

Cat

Bros, some sympathy please . . .

Lewis

?