Echoes of Scotland Street

  My stomach dropped.

  Finally, here was evidence of Cole the player. I had no right to feel disillusioned and disappointed. None. So I didn’t.

  Really. I didn’t.

  No, siree, not me.

  I waited nosily to see if Cole did have time in his man-whore schedule for her but looked down at my work as though I didn’t care.

  “Shannon, I’m free for the next hour, right?”

  “Two,” I said without looking up, “if you count lunch break.”

  “Is it just a small tat? Two hours enough?”

  “More than.”

  My hands stilled on the scanner button. They were talking tattoos . . . not a sexual hookup? I bit my lip, hating that the jealous burn in my chest was already disappearing. Glancing up at them from under my lashes, I saw Tamara watching me carefully.

  Cole noticed her appraisal of me. “Tamara, this is our new receptionist and Rae’s flatmate, Shannon. Shannon, this is Tamara. She’s an A-and-R executive for Tower Records in Glasgow. We went to Edinburgh College of Art together—Tamara is a graduate of the Reid School of Music there.”

  Bloody hell. She was gorgeous, accomplished, smart, and successful. She scouted talent for a living while I . . . scanned stuff.

  “Hi,” I said.

  What else was there to say?

  Tamara gave me a nod in acknowledgment, a small smirk playing on her lips as she drank me in. She turned to Cole after scrutinizing me. “You never change.”

  Cole stiffened.

  What the heck did that mean?

  Whatever look Cole gave his friend, she shrugged unapologetically. He sighed and turned to lead her across the studio, and thankfully I got to ignore his departure because a customer walked in.

  The young woman was looking to have her ear cuff pierced. After I alerted Simon, who was on his lunch break, he came out into the main studio. He talked quietly to the girl in the waiting area and gestured for her to go into the back room. He stopped by my desk before following her. “You met Tamara?”

  Warily I nodded.

  “Gorgeous girl,” Simon said. “Not the girl, though.” And with that rather enigmatic statement and a cheeky wink, he disappeared after his customer.

  Not for once I cursed fate’s twisted sense of humor for handing me a good job in the worst possible setting. I was in bad-boy heaven. Or hell. Whichever it was, it was the wrong place for me.

  Beggars can’t be choosers, Gran had always said.

  Sighing, I looked back out the window, my annoyance level increasing when I saw the shivering dog’s owner approach to untie him. The dog jumped up at the man, his tail wagging pitifully. All attempts to greet his master were ignored, his owner shooing him down before leading him away. The dog might as well have been invisible on the other end of his lead. My heart clenched. I wanted to run across the street and steal that lonely dog away and shower him with affection.

  It occurred to me as I watched the guy sway a little on his feet that there were just some people who didn’t know how to love. I had to wonder why, then, if they couldn’t learn, they even bothered trying. Their attempts only harmed those foolish enough to try to love them in return.

  CHAPTER 3

  I still don’t forgive you. I just want to know you’re not dead.

  S taring down at the text message from my sister, I pondered what to do. I’d been staring at the damn thing on and off for the last twenty-four hours. And for the last twenty-four hours I hadn’t been able to get her voice out of my head.

  “When are you going to stop picking these losers to date? God, Shannon, it doesn’t say much about you, does it?”

  “Another one bites the dust? What was it this time? Another woman? Drugs? A pregnancy scare? All of the above?”

  “You’ve done it now. You invite scum into your life and we’re the ones dealing with the consequences. You’re so selfish, Shannon!”

  I suppose that meant it was selfish to leave her hanging.

  I’m not dead.

  I stuffed my phone into my big slouchy bag where I carried my sketch pad and pencils. It was Friday, my day off. Since the studio was busiest at the weekends, I got Thursday and Friday off instead. Yesterday I’d spent cleaning the flat and reading a book Rae let me borrow. Today I was going to the castle. I couldn’t get the idea of trying my hand at landscape painting out of my head. I’d never painted before, but it wasn’t the first time I’d fancied giving it a go . . .

  * * *

  “What the hell is that?”

  I stared at the box of acrylic paint he was pointing to. “Paints.”

  “You don’t fucking paint.”

  “I’m going to, though.”

  “No. You’re not. You’re going to return those expensive-as-fuck paints you can’t bloody use.”

  Unsure now, I stared at the box.

  Sensing my sadness, he wrapped his hand around my neck, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were soft, concerned. “Babe, I’m sorry. I just want you to get this art thing out of your head so we can get real. I don’t mean to hurt you, but there’s not much of a career in it for most people and you really need to be megatalented to succeed. There’s no point sinking your time and money into something you’re not good at.”

  That conversation and the many that had come before it played in my head as I made my way to Edinburgh Castle. I paid the entry fee and hoofed it to the top, where I had a wonderful view of the city. Battling against the soft wind that fluttered the corners of my paper up every now and then, I began to sketch it, already imagining painting it in nighttime colors with streaks of electric tones for the lights.

  I was going to use acrylic, I thought determinedly, anger burning in my gut.

  I was going to use my first paycheck to buy myself those bloody acrylics I’d returned because of him.

  Tears stung my eyes, and my mouth trembled as I glared out at the city. If it was the last thing I did, I would buy those acrylics and use them . . . and somehow, hopefully, along the way I was going to find the girl I’d lost because of him.

  * * *

  Pleased with the work I’d done at the castle, I returned back to the flat in a better mood than the one I’d left it in. Before going home I went food shopping, buying fresh fish, vegetables, and baby potatoes. I put it together with a sauce my gran had taught me to make and took pleasure in the fact that I’d rendered Rae speechless when she returned from work to a meal.

  She took a bite of the fish in its homemade sauce and made a little moan of pleasure. I forcefully shoved the reminder of her sex noises out of my mind.

  “You weren’t kidding,” Rae said with her mouth full. “Did you steam this?”

  I nodded as I ate.

  “It’s lovely.” She swallowed and took a swig of water. “You’re full of surprises, wee fairy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t.”

  “Stu told us how you reacted to him calling you that.” She grunted. “I would have looked like I wanted to kick him in the balls too if he’d called me that.”

  My eyes grew round. “Did he say that’s what I looked like?” At Rae’s nod, I whispered, “Why did he hire me, then?”

  “Said you had spunk. I didn’t believe him, but now I do.”

  “I can die happy,” I muttered.

  Rae grinned. “So come on. Spill. Why did you leave Glasgow?”

  Thankful I was already looking at my plate and could easily hide my instant dislike of the turn the conversation had taken, I shrugged casually. “No reason really. I’m not that close to my family. I got laid off at my last job. I decided it was time for a change of scenery. My gran used to live on Scotland Street, so I know Edinburgh pretty well and have always loved it here. It’s different from Glasgow. I was looking for that.”

  “Aye, Cole mentioned he met you on Scotland Street years ago. Says you can’t remember, though.” She eyed me, smirking. “Somehow I doubt that.” I shrugged again and Rae threw her head back in laughter. “Love. It.”


  Before my flatmate could plague me with any more questions I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer, I said, “What about you?”

  Rae put her fork down and gave it to me straight. And I mean straight. “Foster kid. Mum’s a junkie. Dad’s in jail—voluntary manslaughter. Lived in Edinburgh my whole life. Was engaged once when I was twenty. He died. I tried to commit suicide. Simon was my fiance’s best mate. He found me. He saved me, got me into the tattoo industry. Love him to bits. Five years later I met Mike at a gig. He works weird hours, but we manage. Hopefully you’ll get to meet the man behind the grunts.”

  Bloody hell. That was a lot to process. The silence stretched between us as I tried to decide which part of that to acknowledge. I felt her gaze as she waited for my reaction and decided the best thing I could do was concentrate on the positive. Her life had been crap. She didn’t need me to comment on the fact that it had been.

  “How long have you and Mike been together?”

  Her eyes twinkled at me and I was learning that this meant Rae was pleased. “Three years.” She took another bite of dinner and asked through a mouthful, “No ex-fiancé in your past, then?”

  I shook my head.

  “But there was someone,” she said.

  Realizing it wasn’t a question, I just kept eating. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Rae everything. She’d laid it all out for me, so I knew she wouldn’t think I was oversharing. But today had already been an emotional day and I just couldn’t form the words.

  Rae sighed. “Well, not everyone can be an open fucking book like me, I suppose. It’s only with my life, though. I’m good at keeping my fat mouth shut when it comes to other people’s shit.”

  I smiled and got up to clean my empty plate. “I’ll tell you all about it one day.”

  Rae got up and joined me at the sink. She took my plate out of my hand to clean it. “Fancy getting pissed?”

  * * *

  The last two days had been quite relaxing for one very big reason. I hadn’t seen Cole. Not once.

  Until I decided that I did fancy having a drink with my new friend and flatmate and completely forgot that Cole was likely to be there too. And not just Cole. I discovered that his leggy friend Tamara was still in the city when we walked into the Voodoo Rooms and found her at a corner table with Cole, Simon, and Tony. I said a polite hello to them, thankful that Tony was a compelling character who required my entire focus when we met.

  “Simon has been talking nonstop about you,” Tony said in his musical accent, before kissing me on each cheek. “I can see why.”

  Whereas Simon was the epitome of casual earthiness, Tony was the opposite. Incredibly handsome in a very pretty way, Tony was dressed head to toe in a well-fitted three-piece suit. He was warm, cultured, and sophisticated.

  “It’s lovely to finally meet you,” I said after he let me go.

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “The pleasure is all mine. You make Simon’s life easier and he loves you already, so I am happy, yes.”

  Rae huffed. “I don’t remember getting a reception like that when we first met.”

  Tony gave her an insouciant shrug. “I didn’t like you at first. Such a bitch, darling.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Rae countered.

  Tony grinned. “Doesn’t it, though?”

  Rae laughed and threw her arm around him, planting a kiss against his cheek. He pretended to shoo her off him, but it was clear he was only kidding and that there was a lot of affection between them.

  I suddenly felt very out of place.

  But that feeling didn’t last long. They wouldn’t have it that way.

  Simon bought us all a round of drinks and Rae and I stole a seat and shared it. Luckily we both had a tiny arse or one of us would have been on the floor. Across the table, Cole’s attention was being commandeered by the lovely Tamara. I was fine with that. It meant avoiding his eyes was easy, and I could gab away with Simon and Tony, two opposites who somehow made a perfect right. I was falling in love with them and I imagined anyone who spent just a little time with them would feel the same way.

  “So I have this woman come into my salon and she asks for my price list,” Tony said. I’d already learned from Simon that Tony owned a hair salon in Old Town. He was so successful he was just about to finalize plans to open a second salon in Stockbridge. “She turns up her nose and says, ‘Oh no, darling, I never get my hair cut in a salon that charges less than eighty pounds for a cut and blow-dry.’” He rolled his eyes. “So I say, ‘But, darling, there are so many gorgeous woman who can’t afford high-end prices. Here I offer high-end cuts at an affordable rate.’ And the old witch has the nerve to say loudly in front of all my beautiful customers, ‘And that’s why you’ll never have high-end clients.’”

  “I hope you stuck it to the bitch,” Rae said.

  Tony harrumphed. “I look her over very deliberately and I say, ‘In my salon, darling, you can’t put a price on class.’ I dunno what these women think . . . that I’m going to sniff after their gold-covered bottoms?” He leaned into me now. “I start with very little and it was the students and young working people that help me build my business. I’m not going to forget where I come from, you know.” He chuckled. “Although my mother tells me all the time I forget I am Italian.”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Simon shook his head. “Half the time I can’t understand a fucking thing coming out of your mouth.”

  Tony grinned wickedly at him. “It has its uses, though, yes?”

  While his boyfriend threw his head back in laughter, Rae yelled, “No! No, no! No sex talk tonight.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  She frowned. “Really, what?”

  “You have a problem with them discussing their sex life. You,” I emphasized. “The squealer?”

  Simon, Tony, and Cole burst out laughing. I hadn’t even realized Cole was listening to our conversation. Rae fought a grin as she stared at me.

  Tony raised his glass to me. “I knew we were going to get along.”

  Rae pretended to huff but then stood up. “My round.” She pointed at me. “Use those fucking earplugs.”

  “They only muffle the squealing.”

  This set the boys off again.

  She shook her head at me, eyes glittering with amusement. “I guess I can try to be quieter.”

  I smiled. “That would be appreciated.”

  “You’re lucky you’re fucking cute,” she said, and strode off to get us more drinks.

  “Told you you could handle her,” Cole said.

  I threw a tight smile in his direction, successfully avoiding his eyes.

  The guys and Rae pulled me into hilarious conversation, each little tidbit from Tony proving that despite his intimidating sense of confidence and style, he was down-to-earth. But I was hyperaware of Cole. He was just that guy—he exuded charisma. There was this aura about him and I imagined I was not alone in being drawn in by it.

  I did my best to fight it, though, winning the battle every time I looked over and saw him flirting with Tamara. Player. Player. Player, I reminded myself.

  After a few drinks and lots of conversation, I excused myself to use the ladies’. The bar was near closing and many of its customers had cleared out. Glad there was no line into the ladies’, I took my time, and as I washed my hands I stared into the mirror above the sink. I looked less tired, less stressed. The pinched, tight lines around the corners of my mouth had disappeared. My hair tumbled down my back in thick waves and ringlets, and my violet eyes were bright with alcohol. I wasn’t drunk, but I was definitely tipsy. That mixed with the good company meant I was in the best mood I’d been in in forever.

  That mood plummeted as soon as I stepped out of the ladies’ and was confronted by Cole coming out of the men’s.

  Before I could say a word, he came at me, crowding me against the wall as he had crowded me against the reception desk the other day. He put his hands on the wall just above my hea
d, his eyes searing down into me. “Tamara is just a friend.”

  I jerked my head back in surprise, whacking it on the wall. “And I would care why?”

  This close I could see the frown lines between his eyebrows and the hint of darkness in his beautiful green eyes, a gloom that not even the mesmerizing flecks of gold striations around the edges of his irises could counter. “You’ve been quiet with me, Shortcake.”

  I tensed against the wall. “I’ve been talking to Simon and Tony. And Shortcake?”

  “Mmm. I’m a fan of strawberry shortcake. You remind me of it.”

  “I remind you of strawberry shortcake?” I asked, completely befuddled.

  “Sweet strawberries, whipped cream, and sugary biscuit. That’s definitely you.” He frowned now. “You’re telling me you’re not icing me out because of Tamara.”

  “Why would I?”

  He leaned closer and I sucked in my breath as his citrusy cologne hit me in delightful waves. “Because of what’s between us.”

  Trembling now, I whispered, “There’s nothing between us.”

  The gloom disappeared from Cole’s eyes and the gold seemed to flare as heat entered them. “Nothing but a shitload of chemistry I’ve wanted to explore since we first met. And you can stop pretending you don’t remember that because I know you do.”

  Feeling the heat flood into me, I became desperate to get away from him. I reached up and pushed my hands against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge. I was tiny as it was. Next to Cole I was an ineffectual . . . wee fairy. I glowered at him. “You should know I find arrogance a real turnoff.”

  Cole leaned forward and his lips whispered across my cheek before resting against my ear. “Bullshit.”

  A shiver rippled down my spine at his hot breath on my skin, and my nipples tightened. My chest rose and fell as I lost control of my breathing—the air between us felt much, much too thick.

  Cole pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, and whatever he saw there made him turn liquid with triumph. I’d never felt an attraction so powerful before, and although there was a mini version of me screaming from the back of my brain to get the hell out of there, I ignored it. Later I would blame the alcohol for just standing there as Cole leaned down to meet my lips with his.