“And then …” Everybody leaned as Andy fought through amusement to say, “He asked her if she ‘comes here often’. I said, ‘she won’t be coming anywhere near you, sir.’”
As Harper creased over, Eiley held her breath, afraid Coffee Giant might turn around. He didn’t, now chatting with Graeme instead, seemingly oblivious. Thank goodness.
“I’m concerned for straight and bi women, if this is what they have to contend with,” Sorcha lamented. “Do you come here often, indeed!”
“Oi!” Fraser groused. “Not all straight men are that pish at flirting. I did all right.”
Andy made a face. “Did you, though? All I remember is you acting like an absolute eejit and living in pure denial when Harper waltzed into your life. You were a wee scaredycat.”
“She has a point.” Harper squeezed his cheek.
Fraser, as often the case with her, had no defence.
“I’m just confused. I work very hard to look this queer.” Sorcha examined herself. “Is it my jeans? Are they not ripped enough? Should I have rolled them up at the cuff?”
Cam patted her on the shoulder affectionately. “You look like a beautiful lesbian to me, babe. Don’t worry. I’ll never let you go through that trauma again.”
“Oh, come on. Aren’t you a little bit flattered?” Harper asked. “He’s really good looking. Like, really.”
“Again, you’re really damaging my ego here,” Fraser muttered, smiling.
“Eiley, tell them!” Harper urged.
Eiley’s face scrunched again. If she shuffled any further away, there would be a her-shaped hole in the wall. At least then this awful conversation would be over.
“I’m saying nothing,” she decided on, because truly, whatwasthere to say? Coffee Giant might have been handsome, but he’d just revealed himself to be a shameless flirt. A bad one, by the sounds of it, and he’d made the target her poor, unwilling sister-in-law, who was far more attractive, with her curves and glowy brown skin, than Eiley ever would be. Better to admire him from afar, with a windowpane and a road separating them, than goanywherenear that.
She took her lemonade and sipped, refusing to let her eyes snag on his spine again. Even if they really, really wanted to.
3
“Rough shift?” Nate perched on the barstool beside Warren, his chin dipped in sympathy.
Warren was glad to see a friendly face – theonlyfriendly face, actually, since he’d relocated to Belbarrow two weeks ago. Or returned, though he’d been away from the remote town for so long it didn’t really feel like coming home. Too many ghosts for that.
He took a healthy gulp of his second pint of the night, then licked the foam from his upper lip before looking back at his co-worker, trying not to let his features betray him.
Nate appeared unfairly relaxed in a way Warren hadn’t yet seen of the firefighter, a grey beanie hiding his inky black hair and loose joggers a world away from the bulky uniforms they wore on shift. Clearly, he was enjoying his day off, because he ordered a double rum and Coke from the grey-haired bloke at the bar and shucked off his jacket like he intended to stay a while.
“Spent half of it in the loch rescuing a bloody drowning cat. Nearly lost an eye.” Warren pointed to the scratch by his brow, and didn’t care if it looked like he was sulking. He was.He’d spent half his life retrieving animals from dangerous places, and all he ever got in return were claw marks. “Then I spent the other half doing one of the chief’s favourite drills.”
The corner of Nate’s lips pulled into a smirk as he tugged at the golden hoop in his earlobe. “Who played the role of the baby this time?”
Warren’s flat look made clear that the answer, of course, was him. While he knew drills were as much a part of the job as handling emergencies – if not more in such a quiet area – having to wail like a newborn while a co-worker carried him out of the river, bridal style, was a new low. He was just glad Lorna was stronger than she looked, otherwise he might have ended up with a few broken bones. It wasn’t every day someone luggedhimaround.
It hadn’t been like this in Inverness. They hadn’t had much time to be creative with their drills on account of having actual fires to put out, road accidents to tend to, people to save. He’d forgotten just how uneventful small-town living could be, even when working for the emergency services, and he half-wondered if the transfer had been a mistake. He was sure he’d think differently when he settled in properly, but for now, he longed for the adrenaline of his old position. If nothing else, it had kept him busy enough that he hadn’t had time to think about much else.
Andhe missed drinking in his city old haunts, where people had mostly been passing through and didn’t come with history or baggage. He’d tried to start a pleasant conversation with someone earlier, only to discover the woman – and her friends – had sharper claws than Mrs George’s cat. In the city, it had beenfar easier to chat to people knowing you’d likely never see them again. Now, he was still pointedly ignoring the deathly daggers shot from the couple across the pub.
Nate’s throaty laugh was drowned out by the drunkards watching football in the corner. “Lucky you.”
“Lucky me,” he agreed, then glugged his beer in an attempt to forget both about the drill and the terrible conversation. “What about you? Enjoy your day off?”
Nate’s drink was delivered to him, and he thanked the bartender before twisting to give Warren his full attention. “Nah. Played FIFA all day and then felt guilty about not being more productive. Just came for a drink with a few mates to make up for it, which only made me realise that I’d rather still be scoring goals in my PJs.”
Warren chuckled. He remembered many days like that in his twenties, too. He’d only realised in the past few years just how desperate he was to start living. To push the distractions away and find something real. Build something proper. Connections. A family. The need was like an itch: now he knew it was there, he couldn’t stop focusing on it.
“Well, there isn’t much else to do round here,” he commented. “I’d forgotten how quiet it was.”
