It took a lot to make Lake Benson feel stir crazy, but days on end stuck in the shop with Betty and Rainne had done the job. Not to mention the steady parade of women gawking at him through the shop window. It’d been a week since Kirsty’s article and there was still no let-up in the number of women pointing and giggling. He was beginning to feel like one of those guys in the Diet Coke commercials. His breaking point was when Betty started calling him a “wee hot totty”—whatever the hell that meant. After that, he covered the windows with newspaper and ran from the shop.
Lake turned right towards the black waters of Invertary loch. It was barely October but the chill of the Scottish Highlands managed to work its way through his denim jacket and his woollen sweater—in fact, right through to his bones. The cold didn’t bother him so much as the mood it brought with it. He wasn’t one for introspection, but on nights like these when the wind was sharp and darkness was black like coal, his mind turned inward. He’d made exactly two spontaneous decisions in his life—join the army, leave the army. He didn’t regret the first, but the second was proving to be a huge pain in his backside. Especially after almost a month in Invertary with little to show for it.
The old pub sat huge and imposing on the corner of the high street opposite the loch. Its walls, like the rest of the buildings in the centre of town, were whitewashed. The smooth surface reflected the warm light from the street lamps and made the place glow. As usual, the hanging shingle made him smile. The pub was called The Scottie Dog. Not a name meant for smugglers and Highland bandits. The leaden windows let flickers of light from inside seep out, and as someone pushed open the heavy wooden door the din of chat, and laughter, wafted into the street. It was busy. Crowded. For a minute, he wondered if he wouldn’t rather be alone.
He pushed the door open before he could chicken out and spend his evening feeling sorry for himself in his ‘70s throwback flat. The door swung inwards quickly, hitting the person on the other side. Lake stepped inside and tripped over Kirsty Campbell. Words of apology fell out of his mouth before he realised who he’d trodden on. For some reason, the fact that he’d stumbled over Kirsty lifted his spirits no end.
“Seriously,” she grumbled. “You’re here too? You’re everywhere. I can’t get away from you.”
“It’s been almost a week since we talked,” Lake pointed out.
Not a week since he’d seen her. He’d had that pleasure every day. Kirsty bent over to rub the ankle he’d trodden on. Lake smiled at the sight of Kirsty’s rear wrapped in a wine-coloured skirt. His fingers tingled. They wanted to reach out and curl around her hips. Someone jostled him as they exited the pub—it broke his concentration, but not before Kirsty spotted where he’d been staring. Her perfect eyes narrowed.
“You’re a snake, Lake Benson,” she told him.
Lake cocked his head to the side in agreement.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she said.
“It’s a pub,” he said by way of explanation.
She pulled on the green coat he’d seen her wear before. Yet again she was covered from chin to ankle, and although it was cold, he was certain she must have been sweltering in the heat of the pub. She frowned at him.
“I know it’s a pub, dimwit. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be renovating? Painting something? Planning world domination?”
“The world domination plan is in the bag. My evening is free.”
He stepped to the side of the door. Now her way was clear if she wanted to go. She made no attempt to run. Instead she dug her fists into the pockets of her coat, making it pull on her shoulders.
“Why don’t you go back to the army and leave us all in peace?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be easier? You can’t possibly want to run a lingerie shop. Sell the thing and be done with it.”
“Oh, would that I could,” he said.
Unfortunately, no one would buy a business that hadn’t made a profit in ten years. Well, no one except his clueless sister.
She rolled her eyes.
“Betty the troll and that loony contract of hers,” Kirsty said.
Lake didn’t correct her. If she wanted to think it was the contract that stopped him and not the state of the business, then that was fine with him. The fewer people who knew it was a mess, the better. That way it would be easier to sell once he got it back in the black.
“I’d love to get my hands on her nephew.” Kirsty’s voice broke into his thoughts. “That man needs a good hiding.”
It took a minute for Lake to catch up with the conversation, and when he did a flush of heat worked up from his stomach to his head.
“If you want to get your hands on a man,” he told her, “I’m available.”
Her eyes widened.
“That’s not going to happen,” she said tightly.
Lake shrugged.
“I’m not even suggesting that I get you out of that underwear you’re so attached to. I’m just saying that I’m here. If you want me. To do with as you will.”
Her mouth opened and closed like a hooked fish. Lake smiled confidently, aware that every time she saw him she’d replay his words. He’d wear her down by default.
“It’s no big deal,” he said as he took a step closer to her, lowering his voice under the din of the bar. “Lovers by night. Enemies by day. It’s in all the best spy movies.”
“I don’t want to be your lover.” It would have been slightly more convincing if she hadn’t stumbled over the word and flushed bright pink at the same time.
Lake cocked an eyebrow, feeling pretty pleased with himself. Kirsty frowned.
“Don’t think you can wear me down, either. Guys with a lot more finesse than you’ve shown have chased after me. If I can resist them, I sure as heck can resist you.”
“I don’t plan to mention it again. I’m just going to wait. I’ll be right in front of you. Watching you think about me. Watching you think about what we could do together. How we could be together. I won’t need to say anything. It’s all going to happen in your head.”
She threw up her hands in exasperation.
“I’ll tell you something. All of this”—she waved her hand in front of him to signal that she meant him, not her—”is happening in your head, not mine. My head is empty, thank you very much.”
Lake grinned widely.
“Auch, I mean...” She poked him in the chest. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. You want me.”
“In your dreams.”
“Yep, there too.”
“You are the most annoying man I’ve ever met and I don’t have time to deal with your many psychological problems. I’m going home.”
With that, she was gone. Lake found himself grinning at the door as it swung shut behind her.
After a large plate of fish and chips and a cold beer, Lake was in fine spirits. The cheery bustle around him improved his mood no end. He sat at a table near the bar flicking through images on his iPad. He had intended to relax while he caught up on news and sport. Instead, his time with Kirsty made him curious and reminded him that he’d yet to run a background check on his enemy. Around him the buzz of the busy pub acted like white noise to block out his day. It helped soothe him, which was good because Kirsty’s story made for grim reading.
Lake traced his index finger over the image of Kirsty on a runway in Italy. Her tall, lean body curved in all the right places, accentuated by silver mirrored underwear the likes of which he’d never seen before. She was smiling into the camera, with a naughty look in her eye that made you want to tease her, just to see her laugh. Long, red, wavy hair flowed over her shoulder. He wanted to run his hands through it, but the pixie cut she sported now made that impossible.
“Why are you looking at our Kirsty?” Dougal said as he picked up the empty plates.
As owner of the pub, Dougal behaved like it was his right to poke his nose into everyone’s business. Lake wasn’t surprised. There was no such thing as privacy in Invertary. Lake let Dougal clear the table in front of hi
m. As usual, the self-appointed town mayor’s ample belly was barely covered by a green tartan waistcoat. This time it was worn over a pink shirt. Lake made a note to bring sunglasses next time he visited the pub.
“Well, son, why are you reading about Kirsty?” Dougal’s loud voice boomed, making heads turn his way. “Is this because of that story in the paper? The war thing you’re playing at? What is it you lads say—know your enemy?”
Lake was surprised at how close Dougal had come to his motivation, but he didn’t let it show.
“Just curious,” Lake said, keeping his voice low and soft.
“Why are you whispering, son? Everybody knows the story anyway. It was in all the papers.”
Lake looked around as those who could hear over the din nodded.
“You’re English, so you might not know,” Dougal said, although it was clear Lake did know as he’d just been reading about it.
There was obviously no stopping the man, so Lake sat back in his chair. Dougal smoothed his perfectly groomed—and snow white—beard and moustache. Taking a deep breath, he scanned the room to make sure people were paying attention to him.
“Kirsty,” Dougal said with an air of importance, “was a lingerie model, very successful. Not one of those angel girls, but close.”
Dougal took a breath and a guy behind Lake said, “He means Victoria’s Secret.”
Dougal frowned at the man for interrupting.
“She was always gallivanting off to some shoot or other, all over the world.” Dougal continued, pleased that people were turning to listen. “She got engaged to her manager, all teeth whitener and limp handshake. They were in a car in Spain, on the high roads.”
“‘Round Seville,” someone behind him said. “Treacherous roads. You drive on a cliff edge.”
More nodding.
“Anyway,” Dougal said in a tone that made it clear he was the one telling the story, not them. “He lost control of his flash car and it plummeted down a gully.”
“Cliff.”
“Ravine.”
Dougal stared at the crowd until they shut up.
“He walked away,” he said with disgust. “Bruises and a broken arm, that was all. At least he called for help. They had to cut our Kirsty out. She lost a kidney—”
“Head injury, too, poor dear,” said a woman to his left.
“They had to cut off her lovely hair,” said the woman’s friend.
“The worst part,” said an old guy behind him, “was the scars.”
“Yes,” said his wife. “They go from her neck right down her body. Terrible, it is.”
“Have you ever seen them?” boomed Dougal.
“No.” The woman was flustered. “But I’ve heard.”
“If you haven’t seen them, then you don’t know how bad they are, do you?” Dougal told her.
After a few seconds of giving her the evil eye, he turned back to Lake.
“That wasn’t the end of it. While Kirsty was in hospital, that devil fiancé of hers ran away with all her money. They think he’s in Brazil.”
“Probably living with that guy who robbed the train,” someone called.
Dougal gave up pretending to collect the dishes. He was holding court now. Lake quietly sipped his drink. In his experience, if you were silent long enough, people always told you everything you wanted to know and often more—as he was learning the hard way with Betty.
“So,” Dougal said with a flourish, “poor Kirsty had no choice but to come home here and start again. Her mum lent her the money to buy her shop and now she’s working hard to get ahead again.”
As one the group nodded solemnly. Suddenly, Dougal realised who he was talking to.
“You’re not going to use this information to harm our Kirsty, are you?” Dougal shouted.
Lake could feel the mood of the pub shift against him. They were talking about a treasured child of Invertary and he was the outsider. The English outsider, lest he should forget.
“Why would I do that?” he said calmly.
“To make her shut her shop,” Dougal said, as though Lake was the idiot.
“Dougal,” Lake said in a conciliatory tone. “What happened to Kirsty has nothing to do with this competition between our shops. They are two different things. I’m not going to use this to shut her down.”
There was silence in the pub for a second before Dougal spoke.
“Good, because we’ll have none of that around here,” he declared.
The noise resumed. As Dougal bustled away with Lake’s empty plate, Lake reread the information on Kirsty. Nope, it wasn’t any use for winning the war, but it might come in handy for charming her out of her underwear.
Something Dougal said made Lake’s trained suspicions stand to attention. He flicked through the photos of the accident until he came to the one he wanted. His lips thinned as he magnified the image as much as possible. There was definitely another set of tyre tracks on the road where Kirsty’s car had plunged down the ravine. He punched a number into his phone and waited.
“John,” he said by way of hello. “I need you to look into something for me.”
Kirsty marched back up the hill from the pub to her flat, all the while cursing the audacity of Lake Benson. As she crossed the road to her home, she spotted something move in the lane between Betty’s shop and the fishing tackle shop. Curiosity got the better of her, so she detoured to see what was going on.
“Billy!” she said when he spotted the plumber.
He jumped straight up in the air.
“Kirsty, I almost died.”
Billy grabbed his chest with his hand and huffed.
“Too many pies and cakes.” Kirsty pointed at him.
“Here I was thinking it was stress from being blackmailed into illegal activity.”
Kirsty wandered up the narrow alley towards him. His tool kit was open at his feet and there was a huge wrench thing hanging from a pipe.
“Blackmailed?”
He gave her a look that said he wasn’t fooled by her profession of ignorance.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Kirsty Campbell. Mum’s got a bug in her ear as big as the Loch Ness monster. All I’m hearing is that we’re at war with the English. I think she’s making badges in her basement with the other women in the knitting group. Apparently they’re mobilising!”
Kirsty felt the hair on her neck stand on end. If the Knit Or Die group were sneaking around that meant only one thing—her mother was involved in her war. Come morning she’d be having a word with Margaret Campbell.
“But blackmail?” she asked as Billy fidgeted with the pipe.
“Mum said she’ll tell Mandy that I went to a football game, when I told her I was doing a job in Glasgow.”
“Ah,” Kirsty said.
She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from telling him that the whole town, including his wife Mandy, already knew he’d been at the game. Mandy used the time he was gone to get her hair done and buy some lingerie. As Billy’s mother well knew—she was the one who babysat.
“So, what are you doing?” she said instead.
“I’m making sure that your English guy doesn’t have any water in the morning. Or for the rest of the week.” He pointed at some valve thing in the wall. “This here is the thing you turn when you want to shut off the water to the house.”
“Does everyone have one of those?” Kirsty said as she studied it.
“Yes. They do.” There was a very silent “idiot” attached to the end of that sentence.
“And you’re doing what to it?”
“I’ve turned it off and I’m making sure it stays off. If he wants it fixed he’s going to need a blowtorch and some extra piping.”
“Fantastic.”
She thumped her old classmate on the back. She hadn’t been the one to instigate the illegal activity, but she sure as heck wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or whatever that stupid saying was.
“I don’t like this,” Billy
told her. “It’s probably illegal, but definitely childish.”
“Thanks for the reprimand. It isn’t your business at stake.”
“It will be if anyone finds out that I’m using my powers for evil and not for good.”
“He’s English,” she said, as though that excused all sorts of questionable behaviour.
“I also heard that he’s ex-army. Don’t those guys have muscles? Big muscles. And aren’t they trained to kill? I’m taking my life in my hands here. If it wasn’t for the fact that Mandy would nag me about the game, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Point taken,” Kirsty said. “Seriously, though, I doubt Lake is any threat to anyone. Sure he has muscles, but they don’t look anywhere near as big as Sylvester Stallone’s, and Stallone is an old guy. Plus, aren’t there all sorts of army guys? He might be one of the ones that drove trucks, or worked in the kitchen. I think you can breathe easy. I’m pretty sure your life isn’t under threat. I mean, who even knows you’re here?”
“I do,” said a voice behind her.
Kirsty and Billy froze.
“Want to come out here and tell me what’s going on?”
“Crap. It’s Caroline. Bloody hell.”
“I heard that,” Caroline snapped. “Watch your language, Billy.”
“Oh no, she knows it’s me. I’m out of here,” Billy hissed at Kirsty.
“I’m waiting,” Caroline told them.
“Are you done? I can stall,” Kirsty hissed.
“Done. You take the wicked witch, I’ll take the back door.”
With a sigh, Kirsty walked towards Caroline while Billy packed up his tools in a rush and ran for the back of the building.
“You’ve scared the life out of Billy,” she told her best friend. “Again.”
Caroline smiled primly.
“That’s what happens when you skulk.” She cocked her head to the side, making her shoulder-length, straw-coloured bob sway. “You’ve got colour in your cheeks. You must be up to no good.”
Kirsty smiled at her friend—the self-appointed morality police of Invertary.
“Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
They walked back across the road and up the stairs to the flat above Kirsty’s shop. As soon as she opened the door she could feel the tension ease from her. Lavender-coloured walls, pale blue sofas and soft grey cushions. The whole flat was done in a variety of muted, cold colours, from the dusky pink in the kitchen to the soft blue in the bedroom. It was soothing.
“What’s Billy up to, anyway?” Caroline said behind her.
“I’m not sure I should tell you. You’d feel obligated to do something about it.”
“Something illegal, then,” Caroline said with disappointment.
“Not really.”
“How can it be not really illegal?”
Kirsty smiled at her friend. All through their childhood, Caroline’s tendency to see the world in black and white got her into a lot of trouble. People like to be in the grey area, and they don’t want someone who disapproves hanging around to see them do it. She led Caroline into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle.
“Mum and her cronies have mobilised and are sabotaging Lake on my behalf,” she said.
Caroline’s hand flew to her mouth at the shock of it all.
“That’s just wrong,” she said.
“Probably,” Kirsty told her. “But not quite illegal.”
“Are you going to talk to her about it, stop it?”
“I was thinking I’d ignore it for a wee while. I mean, why ruin her fun? She probably sees herself as the leader of the resistance or something.”
“But it’s not right.”
“Try not to think about it,” Kirsty told her.
That one sentence was what got Caroline through school without someone beating on her. It took a long time to convince her that the world wasn’t going to live her way, no matter how much she approved, or disapproved, of it.
“Fine. It’s your war. I’ll mind my own business.” Kirsty couldn’t help but hear a very loud “for now” at the end of that statement. It made her smile.
“I was looking for you,” Caroline said as she sat perched on the edge of one of the kitchen stools. “Since the story was in the paper I’ve been hearing all sorts of things about Lake Benson, and I’m worried. What’s going on with this man? Do I need to do something?”
“Like what?” Kirsty smiled as she reached for the mugs. “Ban him from the library?”
Caroline pursed her lips.
“I can get a petition together and run him out of town. Or I can look into his permits to make sure that everything he’s doing is above board. I’ve never considered it before now, but I’m pretty sure that if I dig deep enough I’ll find some historical significance in that horrific building of Betty’s to stop him from renovating.”
Kirsty gave her friend a quick hug as she waited for the kettle to boil.
“Thanks, Caroline,” she said. “I keep forgetting that in the land of paperwork you are queen.”
Caroline frowned, obviously worried.
“I want to help. I don’t like the things I’m hearing. There was a lot of gossip in the library this morning, I had to say ‘shush’ about a million times.”
“Gossip about what?”
Kirsty reached for the biscuit tin, which she kept on the top shelf to dissuade herself from opening it. It wasn’t working. She needed a higher shelf. Caroline’s neck was red now, too.
“Spit it out,” Kirsty told her as she handed over the Tunnock’s Tea Cakes.
“Well...” Caroline hesitated enough to let Kirsty know that she was picking and choosing her words carefully. “There’s a lot of talk about him wanting to be the only lingerie shop in town.”
She bit into her biscuit. Kirsty waited her out. Caroline would tell her the rest in her own good time. It took a whole biscuit and several gulps of tea before she started talking again.
“It seems that there are rather a lot of women who think you should...” She cleared her throat as her cheeks went luminous pink. “Ahem, ‘jump his bones’ was the phrase most often used.”
Kirsty’s jaw fell open.
“People are saying I should sleep with Lake?”
“I don’t think sleep was implied,” Caroline said. “Mainly they meant, ah...”
“I know what they meant,” Kirsty told her, and watched her sigh with relief. “What I don’t know is why they would say that. He’s English, he’s annoying and he wants to ruin me. Why on earth would anyone want me to sleep with the man?”
“Mrs Cameron said it would do you good,” Caroline offered to be helpful, but Kirsty could see that her friend was as mystified as she was. “Mrs Kennedy said that he brings out your passionate streak.”
“He brings out my homicidal maniac streak, more like!”
“I’m only telling you what I heard. You know how much I hate doing that, so don’t kill the messenger, okay?”
“I know, sweetie.” Kirsty was well aware that Caroline would rather die than gossip.
“I’m not going to sleep with the man.” She felt she had to say it out loud.
Caroline sat up straight and pushed her shoulders back.
“I never thought you would.”
Although Kirsty had to admit there were thoughts and images creeping into her mind that she really didn’t want to be there. All because of that infuriating man.
“He’s playing with my mind. He’s trying to undermine my thought process so that I can’t fight properly. It’s a tactic to win the war. It has to be.” Her eyes narrowed. “I need to do some research,” she said. “Find out what kind of war he’s running here.”
“Funny you should mention that.” Caroline rummaged around in her huge handbag and came out with a large hardback book. “After all the talk in the library, I thought you might need this.”
She plonked the book on the counter. Tactics of War, the cover said. Kirsty had to laugh.
/>
“Brilliant,” she said. “I’ll have a read tonight.” She hesitated. “There is something else you could help me with.”
“Oh, oh, I don’t like the sound of that.”
Kirsty took a deep breath as her friend’s lips pursed with suspicion.
“I want to have a fashion show during the Christmas Market.”
“No.”
“Come on, Caroline—I need the publicity and I sure as heck need the business. I promise it will be tasteful.”
Caroline folded her arms over her grey suit jacket. Kirsty had often wondered where she found all these grey skirt suits that she wore, as Kirsty had yet to see her shop.
“It’s not going to happen,” Caroline said. “The Christmas Market is about tradition, about family. I don’t think a lingerie show fits in with that.”
“We can have it after dark, adult time. I promise it won’t be titillating in any way, shape or form.”
“I don’t even like that word. It sounds rude. It won’t work Kirsty. Unless...” Kirsty could see from the anxiety in Caroline’s eyes that she wanted to help. “Unless it’s indoors somewhere and we sell tickets to adults only.”
Kirsty shook her head.
“That will make it seem dirty. I don’t want people to start thinking that nice underwear is something akin to a sex toy. It’s just fashion. Heck, it’s only knickers. Come on, Caroline. You know how much I need this.”
She watched as her friend’s shoulders dropped slightly. She was softening.
“What were you thinking exactly?” she said.
Kirsty grinned.
“I envision a runway down on the main road by the loch, lots of Christmas lights, cool music and a great show. I can give away prizes.” She was really getting into it now. “We can have it in the evening, get the food stalls going, make it a real party. What do you think?”
“I think as chairwoman of the Christmas Market I’m going to regret this,” Caroline muttered. She pointed at Kirsty. “You promise, on your life, that there won’t be anything smutty about the whole thing?”
Kirsty fought the excitement building inside of her as she worked at looking solemn.
“I promise.”
“And you promise that you won’t do anything that will embarrass me, or this town?”
“Promise.”
“And you promise that you will run every tiny idea past me before you do it and that you won’t spring anything on me at the last minute?”
“I’ll even give it all to you in nicely typed reports, in proper folders with Post-Its stuck to the most important parts.”
Caroline fought a smile.
“In duplicate?”
“Of course.”
Her shoulders slumped entirely.
“Fine, you can do it.”
Kirsty whooped and tugged her friend into a tight hug.
“You are amazing,” she said.
“I’m insane,” Caroline said. “I’m the only woman in Europe planning a family-friendly Christmas market with a lingerie fashion show.”
“Think of the publicity.”
“Think of the weirdoes it will attract.”
“Think of the money it will generate for the town.”
“Think of all the complaints I’ll get from parents.”
They paused as they read each other’s minds.
“Morag McKay,” they said together.
Kirsty started to laugh. It bubbled up inside of her until she was bent double with it.
“What’s so funny?” Caroline demanded.
“This, you.” Kirsty wiped the tears from her eyes. “Who would have thought that Caroline Patterson would ever get into trouble from Morag and her morality society. It’s hysterical.”
Caroline put her hands on her hips and glared at Kirsty.
“There’s nothing funny about this at all, Kirsty Campbell. You stop laughing right now.”
Kirsty sank to the floor she was laughing so hard.
There was no water for coffee. There was no water for a shower. There was no water to brush his teeth. If Lake had been more awake, if he’d been able to get his hands on a mug of coffee, he might have smelled a rat a lot sooner than the hour and forty minutes it actually took him. He was going soft. In all his years in the army, he’d never needed coffee to get going in the morning.
He pulled on his faded blue jeans and his paint-splattered grey work T-shirt and went in search of the mains valve. It was mangled beyond repair. He didn’t need to look in his meagre toolbox to know that he lacked the gear to fix it. Back in the shop, he dug out the dust-covered phonebook and called the first plumber on the list. Before he even gave his name, he knew what the answer would be—and he was right. There were now no available plumbers in Invertary. The message he kept getting, almost word for word, was that he should try Fort William—or even better, Glasgow. Lake hung up the phone and stared at the wall. He smiled with amusement. It’d take a lot more than this to win a war against Lake Benson. He’d spent years living in hostile territory. As he kept telling the gorgeous Miss Campbell, he knew war.
“I’m going out,” he shouted to Betty.
There was silence. He hoped that meant she was napping. He’d left her in the office to go through the four hundred years of paperwork she’d accumulated. He’d given her strict instructions to be tough with herself and only keep the important stuff. Then he’d spent the last hour listening to a running commentary about each treasure she’d unearthed. The silence was a blessing.
He pulled on his denim jacket and wandered out into a perfect Scottish autumn day. He took a good, deep lungful of clean air and headed up the street to the hardware store. The street was coated with the fallen leaves, a carpet in orange and red. The blue sky was crystal clear and the rows of little white houses were picturesque against the rolling green hills behind them. It felt like he was walking through a photo of Scottish perfection.
“Hi, Lake,” a group of girls called to him.
He nodded and they giggled. Lake almost rolled his eyes. That newspaper article was annoying him more than helping him. Now half the women in town wanted him to charm them out of their underwear, and the other half were scared he would try! He had to do something to sort the problem soon or he’d go insane. Which, come to think of it, would mean he’d fit right in here.
After he’d given a huge chunk of what money he had left to the guy in the hardware store, Lake had an idea. The shop was painted. The lingerie and fittings were en route through Glasgow. All he needed was a plan to get the women of Invertary onside. The best way to do that was to give them what they wanted. And he had just the thing. He’d run a self-defence class.
Lake felt quite cheery as he set about undoing the shoddy sabotage job in the alley beside his store. He was fixing the trashed valve when he spotted someone out of the corner of his eye. Lake took off his protective goggles to find Kirsty staring at him. Today she was wearing a pale grey figure-hugging dress, which had her signature high neck. And, be still his heart, it looked like she wore thigh-high black boots under the dress. His mouth began to water.
“Thought you might need this,” she said.
From behind her back she produced a two-litre bottle of Highland Spring water.
Lake almost smiled.
“I didn’t think you’d own up,” he said as he took the water.
It was sparkling, not his favourite. He unscrewed the lid and had a long, slow drink, keeping one eye on Kirsty as he did so. Kirsty cleared her throat. Suddenly the old brick wall was fascinating to her.
“I’m not responsible,” she said. “But I do know what happened.”
Lake capped the bottle and used it to point at the pipe.
“And you came to gloat?”
“Damn right I came to gloat.”
Lake grinned at her.
“You can gloat at me any time, Kirsty Campbell,” he told her. “Want some?” He held out the bottle.
“No.” She folded her arms across her chest. r />
He was pretty sure the action was supposed to be a barrier to him; instead it made him step closer. Her eyes widened slightly.
“Are you going to give up now?” she said.
Lake grinned widely.
“You thought a morning without water would make me surrender?”
Her eyes flicked away in uncertainty. That was exactly what she’d thought.
“That’s cute,” he told her.
She frowned as she took a step away from him.
“This is only the beginning,” she said.
“How do you know that if you aren’t responsible?”
“I hear things.”
“Voices in your head? You need to see a doctor about that.”
Lake took another step towards her. She swallowed hard and took a step away from him. Her back was against the wall.
“Tell me, Kirsty.” He placed a hand on the wall beside her head. “Have you been thinking about me? Thinking about us?”
A flash of panic, followed closely by amusement, crossed her face.
“Don’t be daft.”
“I think that’s a bare-faced lie.”
She stood up straighter.
“I’ll have you know that I have many more important things to think about than you, Lake Benson.”
“Uh-huh, I bet you do.”
He leaned in towards her. She smelled exactly like warm vanilla custard. She licked her full bottom lip as her breath hitched. Her body language made her out to be a liar. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking? I can tell you if you like.”
He heard her heart pound loudly. He could feel the heat coming from her skin. One tiny movement to the right and his lips would be touching that fabulous, creamy skin of hers.
“I don’t care what you think,” she said, but her voice was a croak and her words were strained.
“I know,” he whispered before he leaned in and gently nipped the skin high on her neck beneath her ear.
She made a little whimpering sound. Lake followed it to her mouth and gently kissed the sound right out of her. For a second she melted against him as he felt his heart beat faster. He ran his hands up her arms, and as he reached her shoulders he felt her stiffen. She pushed him away.
“Stop it. I don’t do that any more.”
For the first time that he could recall, he felt genuinely shocked.
“You don’t do what? Let men kiss you in alleyways?”
Her face turned a deep shade of red.
“That and more—especially with you.”
Lake was genuinely stumped. Kirsty pointed at the mangled pipe.
“This is just the beginning, unless you give up this stupid war.”
“I’m not giving up,” he told her. “On anything.”
There was a flash of panic in her eyes.
“Well, you’re more of a fool than I thought you were.”
With that, she turned and stalked across the road.
Kirsty slammed the door to her flat behind her. The space was closing in on her. The colours that normally soothed her were over-bright. Her palms began to tingle as she felt her throat tighten. Deep breaths, she told herself. Long, slow, deep breaths. She stood in the middle of her living room and closed her eyes. That infuriatingly stupid man. She’d been a year free of any sort of anxiety attack. Now thanks to him and his stupid war—and his stupid mouth—she was heading right back to where she started. She wouldn’t have it.
As she counted her breathing and felt the tightness in her throat subside, she remembered what the doctor had told her after the accident—have a plan, a way to cope for when the attacks hit. She opened her eyes and the room was back to normal. Shaking her hands to get rid of the pins and needles that remained, she headed to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She needed a coping mechanism. What? She sipped the water as her heartbeat slowed. What she really wanted to do was lock Lake in a box and forget all about him. She stilled with the glass halfway to her mouth. That was it. She smacked the glass down on the counter, making the contents spill.
She grabbed the board marker off the whiteboard next to the fridge and opened the cupboard under the sink. The cupboard no one ever went into. On the inside of the door she wrote a list of all the things she needed to get out of her head—Lake, money worries, war and marketing the business. Done. With a smile of satisfaction, she stood, kicked the door shut and felt slightly better. She’d just keep it all in the cupboard and not in her head. As she walked away, she felt only marginally worried that her coping mechanism might be a sign that she’d totally lost the plot.
CHAPTER FOUR