Page 7 of Summer Escapes on the Scottish Isle (Coorie Castle Crafts #2)

Mack couldn’t resist telling his mum that Freya Sinclair was back in town, so he called in on his way home.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t on the way home at all and he could have phoned her instead, but he secretly harboured the hope that he might bump into Freya.

He wanted a proper look at her, now that he knew who she was.

Boy, had she changed! He remembered a flame-haired, skinny girl with brown eyes that were too big for the pale, freckled face they stared out of.

But the woman he’d seen last night had been gorgeous.

She’d really grown into herself, and she had oozed confidence.

As he marched back down the mountain, his feet sure and steady on the narrow rocky trail, Mack realised he knew very little about her, other than that she lived in London and taught pottery in a college.

And hadn’t his mum mentioned something about her work being in a gallery?

He hadn’t paid much attention, assuming that was what craftspeople did – display their stuff in shops and such.

He found his mother in the garden, weeding. She had a floppy sun hat on her head and a pair of ankle-high wellies on her feet.

‘Are you expecting a heatwave or snow?’ he joked when he saw her.

‘It’s Skye,’ she replied. ‘Any weather is possible.’

‘Och, that’s true enough.’ It was nice at the moment, the evening warm and pleasant. Insects darted among the flowers, and sparrows argued in the bushes. Next door’s cat lay sprawled on the path, taking a keen interest in the weeding process and one eye on the birds.

‘Guess who I bumped into in the pub last night?’ Mack said.

His mum straightened up. ‘Freya Sinclair?’

‘How did you know?’ Mack was put out that she’d stolen his thunder. She hadn’t had an inkling that Vinnie’s daughter was home when she’d told him about the old man’s fall yesterday.

Jean raised her eyebrows as the sound of a crash was followed by a loud yelp. The noise came from two doors up – Vinnie’s house.

‘Rhona told me. She spoke to her this morning. Freya’s going to be staying a wee while.’

‘What on earth is she doing?’ he asked, wincing as an expletive floated on the air.

‘Moving furniture, by the sounds of it. Why don’t you see if she needs a hand?’

Mack was more than happy to, and he was off like a shot and chapping on Vinnie’s door before he knew it.

Freya took a step back in surprise when she realised who was knocking, and Mack put on his most charming smile.

‘Hi, Freya.’

‘I’m surprised you’ve remembered my name. You didn’t last night.’

‘I didn’t recognise you,’ he replied, undeterred by her scowl.

She scoffed. ‘I haven’t changed that much.’

‘Actually, you have,’ he pointed out. ‘You’ve grown up.

’ Then he wished he hadn’t mentioned it, when his gaze involuntarily flickered down her body.

Even in jeans and a T-shirt, she looked amazing.

Her abundant curves were in all the right places and her waist looked narrow enough to span with his hands.

Unfortunately, she caught him looking and glared at him. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, her tone on the unfriendly side. ‘I’m in the middle of something.’

‘So I heard.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I was in my mum’s garden. You swear like a fishwife.’

He was amused to see the freckles across her cheeks turn a deep copper colour as she blushed furiously.

‘You would swear too if you’d just dropped a bed on your foot,’ she retorted.

‘Should I ask—?’

‘No, you should not.’

‘Do you need a hand?’

‘I can manage.’

‘It didn’t sound like it.’

‘You shouldn’t have been listening.’

‘I couldn’t help it. You were loud.’

She closed her eyes, took a breath, then opened them again. ‘Please tell me no one else heard me swearing?’

He shrugged. ‘Can’t say for certain. My mum heard.’

‘Oh sh— dear.’

Mack grinned. ‘Do you want a hand or don’t you?’

He felt her eyes linger on his chest and arms, sending a pleasant warmth through him. He was used to women eyeing him up and liking what they saw, but when Freya reached out and gave his left bicep a squeeze, he almost jerked away in surprise.

However, his hope that she might be flirting with him came crashing down when she said, ‘You’ll do.

If you were weedy, I’d be better off shifting it myself.

It’s upstairs.’ Turning on her heel, she stomped ahead of him, giving him a perfect view of her bahoochie – and what a wonderful bahoochie it was.

He watched it go up the stairs, then stop when it reached the top, as Freya squeezed herself between a bed frame and the banister.

Giving the old brass bed frame an experimental push, he announced, ‘It’s stuck.’

The withering look made him flinch. ‘I know.’

‘You’ll need to turn it on its side.’

‘That’s what I was trying to do.’

He bent down to peer at the offending piece of furniture. ‘It might be an idea to take the headboard off.’

She waved an adjustable spanner at him. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ she drawled.

‘Would you like me to have a go?’ Mack flexed his muscles.

‘Nah, I brought you up here to watch,’ she snapped back, but when he smirked and she realised how that sounded, she blushed again.

Mack resisted the impulse to duck when she raised the spanner, thinking she was going to brain him with it, but she merely handed it to him.

Unfortunately, from his position at the top of the stairs, he wasn’t able to reach the grub screws that bolted the headboard in place.

Which meant he had to try to heave the cumbersome frame back, and hope he wouldn’t damage the wallpaper in the process.

It was already dented and had a slight tear, but he was wary of making it worse.

‘If I take the weight, can you shuffle it back?’ he asked.

Freya nodded, brushing the hair off her face before planting her feet apart and grasping the end of the footboard.

With some delicate shifting to and fro, enough of a gap appeared for Mack to squeeze through, and then he was on the landing, pressed against Freya as she held the bed steady to prevent it from moving again.

When he positioned himself in front of her to relieve her of the weight of the damned thing, he felt the heat and softness of her chest against his arm, and it sent a bolt of desire through him.

Down, boy , he silently told his libido. Now wasn’t the time to be having those kinds of thoughts.

Freya moved back, putting some distance between them, but the scent of her lingered in his nose and he breathed it in.

‘Are you OK there?’ she asked.

‘Grand,’ he replied, jerking his head to indicate that she should step away, and in a matter of minutes he had the pesky bed into a position where he could get at the grub screws to loosen them.

As he applied the spanner, it was clear why she hadn’t been able to undo them herself.

The blasted things were welded on, and it took all his strength to shift them.

He prided himself on not cursing, though, despite being tempted to utter an expletive or two that would rival Freya’s.

‘There,’ he announced triumphantly, when he’d managed to separate the headboard from the rails and the base. ‘Let’s get this downstairs, then I’ll take the footboard out. Where do you want it?’

‘The sitting room, please.’

He carted it downstairs and saw that she’d already cleared a bed-sized space in the sitting room. A sofa and two armchairs had been pushed together, and he could see how cramped the room would be once the bed was set up.

‘How’s your dad?’ he asked, propping the headboard against the free wall.

‘Getting there.’

‘When’s he coming home?’

‘Sometime next week, hopefully.’

‘We’ve got time, then.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Time for what?’

‘To take one of the chairs upstairs. It’ll give you more room. You won’t be able to swing a cat in here once we’ve got the bed down.’

‘Swinging cats is the least of my worries,’ she muttered.

He didn’t bother pursuing that conversation, even though he’d heard what she’d said. Having her dad in the hospital must be a concern, and he guessed she wouldn’t find it easy when he came home. Vinnie could be an ornery so-and-so, despite having a heart of gold.

Mack remembered the reason the old chap had given for hanging up his fishing nets; he’d claimed that he’d had enough of early mornings and heaving seas, and that he was fed up with being cold and wet.

But everyone knew he’d been struggling for a while.

Operating a trawler, even a small one, was damned hard work, and the body took a battering.

Now that the bed was apart, it took minutes to bring the rest of it down and put it back together again, then Mack carried the hefty double mattress down single-handedly, refusing Freya’s offer of help.

He was showing off a bit, but he couldn’t seem to stop trying to impress her, despite knowing how shallow he was being.

However, he suspected it would take more than muscles to impress Freya Sinclair.

When the job was done, and not wishing to outstay his welcome, he said, ‘I’ll be off – unless you need me for anything else.’

He saw her puzzled glance at the three-piece suite, crammed together with barely an inch between them. ‘I thought we were going to take a chair upstairs?’ she said.

‘We are, but I’m going to need another body to shift it.’

‘What am I? Cream cheese?’

Mack let out a laugh. ‘Definitely not, but you can’t—’

‘Don’t you dare tell me I can’t do something,’ she broke in hotly.

Mack held up his hands and backed away. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he protested. ‘I just don’t want you to throw your back out, that’s all. That sofa is heavy.’

‘I thought we were moving a chair?’

‘We were, but I’ve been thinking that removing the sofa will give your dad more room to manoeuvre his walker.’

Freya produced the first smile he’d seen from her the whole time he’d been there. ‘Try telling him he’ll need a walker. He seems to think he’ll manage just fine with a walking stick.’

‘If you don’t remove the sofa, that’s exactly what he’ll have to use,’ Mack pointed out. ‘Believe me, he’ll need the walker.’

‘An expert on broken hips, are you?’

‘My gran broke hers.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise.’

‘Why would you?’

‘Dad keeps me abreast of most things.’ She was on the defensive again.

‘My gran lived in Lochalsh. She died a couple of years ago. Pneumonia.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Freya repeated.

‘Yeah, so am I. She was a grand old lady.’ He gave himself a mental shake. ‘Right, about that sofa…?’

Freya raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m game if you are?’

It was a challenge. Mack picked up the gauntlet. ‘OK, then.’

He didn’t add, although he wanted to, that she couldn’t hold him responsible if the task proved impossible.

Or if she hurt herself – though he would do his damnedest to make sure that didn’t happen.

The hardest part would be having to lift it over the banister at the top of the stairs, and he not only hoped that he’d be strong enough, but he was also concerned that there wouldn’t be enough clearance.

If that happened, he would suggest storing it at his house for the duration.

Goodness knows he had the room. In fact…

‘I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we save ourselves the hassle and I’ll take it to my place?’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Um…’

‘I can put it on the back of my truck, and I’ve got somewhere you can store it.’

This was true, but part of the reason for making the offer was that it would guarantee he’d see her again. OK, it wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had, considering she’d blown him off last night.

‘If you’re sure,’ she replied doubtfully.

‘Do you want to give the stairs a go first?’

Freya caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It was a sexy gesture, and his libido gave him a little nudge.

She studied the stairs, and he could see the calculations going on behind her eyes. ‘Could we?’

‘I still think we need another pair of hands. It’s going to be a two-man job. And, no offence, but you’re not a man.’

She arched a brow. ‘How observant of you.’

His lips twitched; he wasn’t used to this kind of reaction from a woman and he was enjoying it.

She sighed, suddenly deflating. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘I’ll see if I can get someone to help tomorrow. It’ll have to be in the evening, though.’ He’d ask Cal or Carter.

‘I won’t be here tomorrow; I’m flying to London.’

‘Oh, right.’ The disappointment he felt at her news surprised him.

‘I’ll be back on Monday, so would Tuesday be OK?’ she added.

‘I’m sure it will.’ He smiled at her. ‘If there’s nothing more I can help you with this evening, do you fancy going to the pub for a drink?’

Her gaze roved around the sitting room. ‘I’ve got loads to do.’

‘When you get back from London, maybe?’

‘Maybe… Thanks for your help.’

‘It’s nae bother.’ He was about to suggest swapping phone numbers so he could tell her what time he’d call on Tuesday, when her mobile trilled loudly.

It was sitting on a lamp table behind him, and as she reached past him to pick it up, he saw the name on the screen: Hadrian.

‘Hi,’ she said into the phone, holding up a finger to let Mack know she wouldn’t be long.

‘Yeah, tomorrow, landing about three… Dinner? I don’t know.

I’ve…’ A sigh. ‘OK, but I’m leaving early in the morning…

You know why… I can’t, OK ?’ This last was said with a measure of exasperation, then her voice softened. ‘Me, too.’

Mack decided he’d better take his leave, and he waved at her to get her attention.

She looked at him as though she’d forgotten he was there.

‘Hang on, Hadrian,’ she said, as Mack mouthed, ‘See you Tuesday.’

She dropped her arm to her side, the phone pressed against her thigh. ‘What time?’

‘Sometime after seven. I’ll see myself out.’

She lifted the phone to her ear once more, but before she spoke into it, she said, ‘Thanks again for your help with the bed.’

He shrugged, saying, ‘No problem,’ and stepped into the porch.

As he left, he heard her say, ‘No one, just one of my dad’s neighbours,’ and he felt a pang as he realised how little impression he’d made on her, compared to the big impression she’d made on him.