Page 24 of One for the Road
“You cracked the screen pretty bad,” April noted with a wince. “I’ll pay to replace it.”
“Oh my god – no, it’s been like this for at least a year. Totally not your fault.” I quickly unlocked it, checking for further damage. Then noted the time: nine thirty-four a.m. “Shit, Jess is actually going to murder me. I have to go.”
“Jess will understand. I really think you should let Alistair check you out,” April said, stepping back and bringing me eye to eye with her rounded belly. Draped in a cute floral summer dress, she was rocking the line betweenbarefoot in the kitchenand Bella inBreaking Dawn. Happybut deeply exhausted in a way that even a good concealer couldn’t hide.
I remembered the feeling well.
Standing, I brushed off my dress that had, by some magic, not slipped up around my ribs in all the chaos – small mercies.
“You’re bleeding,” Alistair barked. He snagged my wrist and bent to look at my shredded knee. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t realise, Daddy.” Unfortunately, the barb held little bite, my stomach too busy churning at the blood trickling down my shin.
He made a noise somewhere between a huff and a curse, pulling his jumper over his head, ruffling the short strands of his hair. “Tie this around it until I can clean it.” He thrust it at me.
“No way! That’s probably Armani.” That would also mean looking at the injury. I’d be flat on my arse again in less than thirty seconds.
“Growing a conscience? You didn’t seem to mind ruining my clothes that night in the rain.”
April’s eyebrows shot up.
“That’s not how it sounded,” I assured her.
Ignoring us both, Alistair bent to tie his jumper around my knee, his fingers tickling the back of my leg as he secured it in a double knot. “You have two options: you let me check you over or I’m calling the ambulance, which will drive you an hour to the minor injuries clinic in Portree.” He stood. “The second option is a large waste of resources.”
How had he already figured out the best way to threaten me was guilt? “Fine.” I hated him. “But make it quick.”
He nodded like he had no plans of hanging around. “We’ll go to Brown’s.”
He walked closely beside me, so tall I felt like a garden gnome. The bell above the door of Brown’s chimed as he held it open for me and April, and several customers turned in our direction before going back to their conversations.
Inside, the scent of cinnamon and butter greeted me like a welcome hug, instantly lifting my mood. The large street-facing window was still slightly fogged from the ovens and the floorboards creaked beneath our feet.
Sure, Brown’s Coffee & Cakes was a little time weathered. The name on the awning was starting to peel in places, and the tables had been cleaned so many times they held a constant sticky residue. But that was part of the charm. I’d fallen in love my very first visit.
Behind the glass cake cabinet, filled with golden croissants and sugared buns, Jessica Brown placed her hands on her ample hips. “There yer are, lass. I was starting to think yer’d been pilfered by that fancy place down the street.”
That fancy place, officially known as Queen’s Cakes. Annabelle’s bakery specialised in artisan cupcakes. Jess hated it, not only out of loyalty to me, but because business had been slow ever since it opened.
Jess got her revenge by “forgetting” its name every other day. Her chosen replacements ranged fromThe Fancy Place,Over-Frosted City Twaddleand, my personal favourite,The Crapcakery.
“Jess – I’m so sorry, I had a bit of car trouble. As soon as I get paid, I’ll take her into the garage; I mean it this time.” I started to beeline to the apron hook, but Alistair snagged the back of my dress, keeping me at his side.
“That damn car again, more trouble than it’s worth,” Jess tutted.
“Mind if I pilfer your first-aid kit, Jess?” he asked.
Jess’s eyes narrowed, a mix of wariness and distrust on her face. Nearly everyone in Kinleith had read theKinleith Gazette’s article after the spring festival back in April. And those who hadn’t would by now have heard an overinflated village-grapevine version.
Gossip spread quicker than a forest fire in Kinleith. It was like living in a bizarre, simulated mash-up ofGroundhog DayandGilmore Girls.
She wagged a gnarled finger at him. “That’s rich, asking me for a favour, lad.”
Yeah, he was definitely in enemy territory.
I could have helped. Might have, if the memory of the torn-open package from two mornings ago wasn’t quite so fresh.
Heather’s gift had turned out to be a vibrator.
