“Oh, no!” Harper lunged to grab her rose-shaped vibrator from the dog, but Bernard was content to keep it in his mouth as he ran around the couch and coffee table with his tail wagging. “Drop it, Bernard! That’s not yours!”
“Bernard, drop!” Fraser instructed, voice hoarse with authority as he tried to catch him on the other side. Bernard slid straight through his hands and back into the bedroom.
Harper’s face blazed as she ran after him. “It’s fine! I’ll take care of it!”
“What even is it?” Fraser questioned, nudging past her and clapping his hands together. “Bernard, drop it!” In front of the suitcase, where Harper’s clothes had been strewn out in the dog’s search, Bernard finally bowed his head and shamefully spat out the magenta sex toy.
Harper stuttered on her protests when Fraser reached for it, but it was too late. He picked it up, examining the curved petal-like edges and, Harper’s favourite part, the tongue-like centre. Harper shrank further into her cardigan, whispering “Oh my god” under her breath.
Perfect. This was perfect. The handsome Scottish woodcutter, who had already taken pleasure in teasing her, now held her sex toy.
“Seriously, what is this?” Fraser chuckled, and then, upon seeing her face, his eyes widened to glistening marbles of mischief. “Oh. I see.”
She snatched it from him and placed it in the pocket of her suitcase, burying it beneath her socks and underwear before Bernard could get his teeth round it again. “As I said, I came here for a... fun holiday.”
“I’m not judging.”
“As you shouldn’t. Any decent man would know that a woman deserves to be confident in her sexuality.”
“It’s really none of my business.”
But Harper was used to blabbering in tense situations, and she still felt judged, even if he insisted otherwise. “Maybe you should train your dog not to snoop around women’s suitcases.”
She put her hands on her hips, arms feeling like jelly. She would be reliving this humiliating moment for at least another three years before she got over it. It was in her nature to endlessly wonder what impression people had of her. She’d once called her English literature teacher “Mum” in sixth form college, and often still cringed about it as she lay in bed at night.
She officially hated Scotland. She would never come back. By the end of the holiday, she might not even beallowedback.
“Bernard meant no harm. Besides, you can call us even now. You rooted through my cupboards, and he’s rooted through your drawers.” His wolfish grin was enough to make her stomach coil with a different heat altogether. Great. How would she ever be able to use that vibrator without thinking of him, now?
He sniffed, leaning against the doorjamb. “Asfunas this has been, I’ve got work to be getting on with. Are you coming into town or not?”
Harper bent down to pile her clothes back into her suitcase and muttered begrudgingly, “Give me a minute.”
The village of Belbarrow wasn’t quite as lovely as described in the Airbnb listing. With Bernard panting in her ear from the back seat, Harper watched the crooked, cobbled shops and bright awnings grow closer, interspersed between trees scattering amber leaves across the road. A rusted waterwheel stood to the side of a tearoom adorned with black and purple Halloween decorations. Opposite was a gift shop displaying fudge and shortbread in the window, which lifted Harper’s spirits. She’d promised to bring back gifts for her parents, so she would be sure to pay the shop a visit soon – for them, and for herself. Other than that, the street labelled Bridge Walk had only a few places of interest,including a pub set behind a narrow stream and a post office.
“It’s very quaint,” she commented for lack of anything else to say.
“What were you expecting?” Fraser replied, flicking on his indicator and turning the next corner. A bell tower loomed with stained glass windows and a heavy crown-like roof, attached to a church named St. Margaret’s. A few more shops followed, including a bookstore that piqued her interest. Maybe she’d judged too harshly.
Harper shrugged, nestling into the passenger seat. His car smelled just like him, like the cabin: like fresh cut wood and rain-dampened earth. She was beginning to enjoy it, especially now she was no longersplatteredwith said earth. “Airbnb claimed there’d be plenty to do.”
A candle shop and florist added fresh pastel colours further down the street, and even a couple of clothes stores were interspersed between them. Though it was certainly nowhere near as packed and lively as Manchester’s Market Street, perhaps she could spend an hour or two here after all.
“There is. Didn’t you see the massive loch yesterday?”
“I’m not much of a walker,” she admitted.
He didn’t seem surprised at this, his fingers tapping against the wheel. “Again, I have to wonder why you chose this place.”
So did she. When she thought of her busy, bustling hometown, though, her innards clenched and she knew that, as much as she’d like to be in the comfort of her own home, there was presently nothing there for her.“I needed a change. Aremotechange.”
“Then maybe start enjoying theremotenessa wee bit more,” he said gently. “This place isn’t so bad. I’m sure it’ll give you enough quiet to work on that book of yours.”
“Maybe.” Perhaps he was right. She needed to give it a proper chance, even if she wasn’t luxuriating in Heatherly Lodge, feet propped up on a suede pouffe, looking out at the forest without having to actually traipse through it. Truth be told, she hadn’t planned to visit the town much at all, except to keep herself fed and stretch her legs when needed. She could say goodbye to that dream now.
She sighed. Fraser cast her a sidelong glance. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Of course.” She pasted on a smile quickly, though it felt more like a grimace. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once I settle in at the B&B.”
