“Like what?” he asked innocently.
“Like…that!” She flapped her hands, flustered and annoyed. “Why are you here so early?”
“Well,someonekept me busy all day yesterday, so I’ve got work to catch up on.”
She glowered. Admittedly, shehadkept him busy. He’d dropped her off at the cabin, and then gone out to buy her a heater and order Wi-Fi installation. Still, that didn’t warrant such an early, raucous alarm.
A cold breeze bit into her bare arms, and she tucked them around her midriff quickly. “You’re a terrible host.”
“You’re a terrible guest.” He powered up his saw before she could reply. Lucky for him, because it drowned out her expletives as she stormed back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
She was certain she heard him laughing the next time he turned it off.
Harper was still muttering irritably to herself as she pulled on her corduroy pinafore dress. Bernard watched from the bed, eyes slowly falling closed before popping back open again defiantly. At least she had some company here.
Once she’d peeled on her tights, she huffed and plopped down on the corner of the thin mattress, playing with the ring on her finger. Today would be the first real day of writing, and she didn’t feel ready. It was daft, really. All she had to do was open her laptop.
What if she found herself staring at a blank Word document all day? What if she found out she was no good at writing, and all of this had been a silly idea?
“Pull yourself together, Harper,” she whispered to herself. Bernard’s ears pricked, the point of one slumping crookedly.
Then, she gritted her teeth. After a short intermission, the power saw was back to polluting the peace. Scared or not, she had to get out of here before the noise drove her mad.
She packed up everything she’d need for the day, including the books she’d purchased yesterday and the grey leather-bound notebook with gold, celestial etchings. She even had a pink fluffy glitter pen and an array of pastel sticky notes. Maybe if she bought enough stationery, the universe would be fooled into believing she was a real author and all would turn out okay.
With a deep breath, she drained the last of her morning tea and shrugged on her long camel coat before stepping into her chunky black boots. She commemorated both the moment and her chic autumnal look with a selfie to post once she reached the café, then gathered her satchel and umbrella and ventured out into the damp morning.
It took Fraser a moment to notice her, protected by goggles and ear defenders. He removed both, balancing them around his neck and over his beanie while tugging up the waistband of his jeans. Rain dusted his shoulders and droplets fell from the curling ends of his hair; it was difficult not to follow their uneven path down towards his collarbones.
“You look nice,” he said, breaking her out of her reverie. “Is there a party I don’t know about?”
“I’m just heading to the café.” She brushed some invisible lint from the front of her dress. “What time is the Wi-Fi being installed?”
He checked his watch. “In about forty-eight hours.”
“Ugh.” She’d hoped it would be today. Evenings without Netflix here were interminable. “This must be how Bear Grylls lives.”
“It’s terrible, the trauma you’re facing,” he quipped. “You should start a blog about it. Inspire people in similar situations.”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” Blogs were booming in popularity these days. “Or a podcast. But then, you need Wi-Fi to actually post those things. It’s a vicious cycle.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as though at a loss, which she couldn’t help but enjoy. Leaving him speechless was fast becoming a favourite hobby of hers. “I’ll stop by the café around noon if you want,” he said. “Give you a lift into town. The tearoom has free Wi-Fi, although I’m sure Alice won’t mind sharing her password with you, either.”
“You think?” She perked up at that. Her measly phone data plan wouldn’t survive for over a month on its own. She could do with some alternative options. Luckily, writing didn’t require a connection, but procrastinating probably would, and she had a feeling she’d be doing an awful lot of that. TED Talks on YouTube and cute TikTok videos of domesticated racoons would likely be needed to boost morale at some point.
He nodded. “At least I’ll always know where to find you. I’ll just follow the Wi-Fi signal.”
Her chest fluttered. “Be careful. I might start thinking you like having me around.”
His lips twisted with amusement. “Aye, well we wouldn’t want that,sunshine.”
“Is that nickname really going to stick?”
“It suits you,” he teased, then slipped his goggles and ear defenders back on before he returned to sawing.
She grimaced. She really did hate that noise, although the nickname she could live with. The sight wasn’t so bad, either: Fraser hunched over his workbench, jaw clenched with focus, biceps rippling beneath his shirtsleeves. His top clung to the muscles around his shoulders as the rain picked up.
Just like that, she was ogling him again. Opening her flimsy black umbrella, she stumbled down the steps and towards the gate, shooing Bernard away – and any impure thoughts about his owner, too.
