by Lisa Hobman
‘Aye, I’m not a bad cook, I suppose. But that’s what living alone will do, eh?’
Zara huffed. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I enjoy cooking but until Marco moved in there were lots of ready meals for one at home. Or takeaways.’
‘Is your boyfriend a good cook, then?’ Lachy asked without making eye contact.
‘Oh, no, Marco isn’t my boyfriend.’ She giggled at the prospect. ‘I’m not really his type, if you know what I mean?’
‘Ah, he’s gay?’
‘As the day is long. It’s a shame really as he’d probably make a pretty good boyfriend.’
‘So what does your actual boyfriend think about you being up here all by yourself?’
She smiled with a tinge of sadness as she thought about Josh’s last call. ‘Currently single, I’m afraid. I was seeing someone. Josh. We were together for a year and I thought it was love but I scared him off back to the arms of his ex.’
Lachy tilted his head and frowned. ‘Oh, I doubt that. I’m pretty sure if he went back to his ex it was all his own doing, not yours.’
‘Hmm. Well, whatever it was he broke my heart, just before I set off to come to Scotland actually.’
‘Well, you didn’t deserve to be treated that way. No one does.’
She was unwilling to bring the mood down and tried to turn the topic round to him. ‘What about you? Don’t you get lonely up here by yourself?’
Lachy chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘I don’t have the time to feel lonely really. Too much to do around the place. My last girlfriend wasn’t too keen on the prospect of moving up here so it ended just before I left the city. I think the whole thing had run its course anyway, if I’m honest.’
‘That’s a shame. I bet you miss her. After all, people need people.’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. She was a very dramatic person. You know the kind: everything had to be about her and if it wasn’t, she’d make it so. I didn’t get much say in anything. Well, not if I wanted a peaceful life.’ He laughed. ‘I think moving home was the right decision and the timing couldn’t have been better.’ He cringed and placed his fork down. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean that to sound like I was happy my dad was ill.’
Zara reached out but couldn’t quite touch his hand. ‘Hey, I didn’t think that at all.’ A companionable silence descended for a while as they both tucked into the meal.
Lachy reached over and topped up Zara’s wine glass. ‘So, how come you didn’t refuse to come here if it’s not your usual type of assignment? I know you’re hating it.’
‘Noah, my boss, he’s very persuasive. Or should I say he’s very good at laying guilt on thick?’ She took a sip of the fruity red wine and pondered his words. ‘You know, I haven’t hated it up here. Not really. I mean, the scenery has been spectacular.’
‘It’s like I said, the place gets under your skin. The people too. Honestly, I can’t imagine living in a city again. Life can be over so fast, why would I want to rush through it with my head down when I can breathe in and look up?’
‘I’m beginning to understand that now. I’ve only been up here a few days in the great scheme of things but already the thought of being in the midst of the hustle and bustle fills me with dread. It’s like your life and mine are polar opposites.’ She smiled.
Lachy frowned and placed his glass down. ‘Yet I wonder which of us is happier.’
A strange, heavy silence settled on the room as Zara contemplated Lachy’s words. She had never really questioned her happiness before. But then again London was all she had ever known. This whole experience had thrown her for a loop. She was still shocked at how a sense of belonging had rooted within her and, even though she had been angry, irritated, frustrated and on the verge of packing it all in, the thought of leaving the Highlands made her incredibly sad.
She decided to try and lighten the mood. ‘I could just have done without the accident, the puncture and getting lost.’
He smiled and his face lit up again. ‘I suppose they were a tad inconvenient.’
‘Just a bit.’
‘I still can’t believe you thought you’d travelled back in time.’ His shoulders began to shake again. ‘Honestly, I wish Tosh had snapped a picture of you. He says you were all cute with dirt on your cheeks and a look of sheer horror on your face.’
She laughed along. ‘Well, you’ve some room to talk. At least I wasn’t playing dress-up with a bunch of other adults carrying wooden swords.’
‘Fair point, fair point. I don’t even know how they roped me in to doing the damn re-enactment thing. I blame Tosh. Known him since school when he was a wee munchkin of a lad.’
‘So why were they calling you Lurch?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, God, I forgot you’d heard that. Another remnant of school. I was the tallest one in my class and for some reason one of the teachers called me it one bloody time and it stuck. The similarity to my actual name didn’t bloody help any.’
‘Ugh, kids can be so cruel. I had awful nicknames too, but it was worse for my best friend, Shelley.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, her name was… is Michelle Bean. So you can imagine what the kids used to call her.’
Lachy pulled his lips between his teeth and tried not to laugh but instead made a snorting kind of noise. ‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh. I blame the wine.’
‘Yes, and thanks to my plastic National Health specs I was Granny Bailey.’
Lachy stopped trying to hold back his laughter. ‘Oh, God, that’s brilliant. Jelly Bean and Granny Bailey.’ He reached across the table and held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Granny, the name’s Lurch.’
She took his hand and shook it. ‘Hello, young man,’ she replied in a silly, old-lady voice.
Once their laughter had subsided Lachy fixed his attention on her again. ‘So, what will you do with your book once it’s finished?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, nothing. I don’t think it’s good enough to actually publish. It was more of a challenge for me really. I just don’t seem to have the time with work.’
‘You know, one thing I learned when I was working in the city, you’ve got to make time to do the things you enjoy, like I said before. Make time for yourself. You deserve it. We all do.’
She knew he was right. Since she had embarked upon this trip she had begun to reassess her work-life balance and had come to the conclusion that there really wasn’t one. She was either at work in the office, on assignment in some foreign country or planning for one or the other. There were a couple of brief meet-ups a month with her best friends and a trip home to see her family as often as she could but there really wasn’t time for the thing she was passionate about. Perhaps she needed to make some changes now after feeling such a buzz over writing again?
‘I must admit, this place makes me understand why you think that way. I guess in the city everything is so impersonal and moves at such a fast pace. But everything is so convenient so you don’t need to make an effort for things like you do up here. I mean, back home I have everything I need on my doorstep and I suppose I take it for granted. I have my close friends but they have their own lives. Shelley will be getting married and having kids soon and Marco… well, Marco’s a law unto himself.’ She glanced round the homely kitchen and imagined her mum standing at the range making her famous stew and dumplings. ‘My mum and dad would love to live somewhere like this. I think Dad would love to work on the land instead of in the building trade. I could really imagine him as a farmer.’
Lachy huffed out through puffed cheeks. ‘It’s no picnic, that’s for sure. But I do go to bed every night feeling a good kind of tired, you know? Not a mental exhaustion like my work in the city. This is an honest to goodness, physical tiredness. But it’s really hard. I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t love it.’
‘It’s like you said, there’s a lot to be said for doing something you’re passionate about, I suppose.’
‘You got that right.’
> 22
After dinner Lachy and Zara sat in the lounge watching the flames dancing in the fireplace and Bess spread herself out as close as she could to the grate without burning her nose. There was something very relaxing and familiar-feeling about the whole scenario and Zara had to remind herself that her bike would be arriving after two more sleeps and she would then be back on the road and heading home.
Much of what Lachy had said was true. She did love her job, but it left little in the way of time for her to do the one thing she had always wanted to pursue. Maybe she wasn’t good enough to be a novelist, but how would she know if she never tried? Making a huge change was terrifying and she wasn’t sure she was as brave as Lachy had been when he’d left the city to return to the family croft.
She guessed it was the romance of the location that was playing with her mind and her heart. She hoped that when she left Scourie in a couple of days she would forget about the feeling of belonging she had begun to experience. After all, Lachy wasn’t looking for a lodger.
The soporific effect of the wine was becoming difficult to fight and Zara was considering taking herself off to bed when Lachy spoke.
‘Do you think you’ll ever return?’
‘To Scotland? Or… or to here specifically?’ she asked.
He turned to look at her. ‘To here.’ There was a strange intensity to his gaze that she couldn’t decipher. Was he inviting her to visit?
She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Who knows what Noah will have me doing next? Trekking in bloody Antarctica or something. I wouldn’t put it past him.’
‘I don’t mean for work necessarily. What I mean is… It’s just…’ His inability to put into words what he wanted to say was endearing. She was seeing a softer side to the brusque man she had first encountered. ‘Well, you’d be welcome. Here, I mean. If you wanted to come back.’
She smiled and her heart fluttered. ‘Thank you. That’s really nice of you. I thought you’d maybe have had enough of me.’
He shrugged and glanced down at his wine glass. ‘It’s been kind of nice having some company.’
A twinge of sadness knotted her stomach again. Getting back to her normal, fast-paced life would be strange. But good… wouldn’t it?
She stood from the sofa. ‘Well, I’m bushed. Time for bed, I think. Thank you for a lovely evening.’
Like a true gent Lachy stood too and he was only inches away from her. ‘Thank you. It’s been good to just sit and eat a proper meal and to talk to another person. It’s been a while. I spent a lot of time at my dad’s bedside when he was ill and then, since he died, I’ve spent too much time here alone. You’re right about people needing people. I think I’d forgotten that until… well, until these last few days.’
Zara had the urge to hug him but then her eyes drifted to his lips as they parted slightly and the urge changed. No, she told herself, don’t go getting attached. You know it’ll end badly and you’ll get hurt. She swallowed and snatched herself from the brink of a huge mistake. Instead she stepped back and turned towards the door.
As she began to walk away he reached out and touched her arm. It was the lightest contact but she felt her wrist tingle where his fingertips had met her skin. ‘Goodnight, Zara.’
‘Goodnight, Lachy,’ she whispered.
*
The next morning when Zara came down to the kitchen Lachy was nowhere to be seen. Bess greeted her in her usual smiley manner and skipped round her feet as she walked towards the stove. There was a pot of fresh coffee brewing and porridge in the large pan, as always, so she helped herself. As she sat chatting to Bess as if they were old friends Lachy came bursting in from the lounge.
‘It’s bloody brilliant!’
She scrunched her brow. ‘What’s brilliant?’
‘Your book. You have a serious talent, Zara. It’s incredible. I’ve never read anything like it. It needs to be published.’
She wasn’t sure whether to be horrified that he’d invaded her privacy or delighted that he’d had such a positive reaction to her prose; even if the book was on his laptop. The former emotion won.
She glared at him. ‘You read it?’
He sat opposite her at the table, an expression of wild happiness on his handsome face like she’d never seen on him before. ‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have read it without asking your permission. But you left it open on my laptop and I was just going to read the first couple of paragraphs. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it. Romance isn’t really my thing but… it’s not just romance, is it? It’s dark and edgy. Gritty, like you said. It’s got real passion, Zara. The story gripped me and I couldn’t stop reading. I think a publisher would snap it up. You need to submit it.’
She pushed herself up from the table, anger bubbling up from within. ‘I appreciate your enthusiasm, Lachy, but it’s my private work. You shouldn’t have read it at all. It’s an invasion of my privacy. If I had known you were going to do that I would never have agreed to use your laptop. Is that why you read it? Did you feel you had the right because it was on your computer?’
He frowned, opening and closing his mouth as if her reaction was a huge surprise to him. ‘I… no… I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I just… it’s really good, Zara,’ he repeated, as if doing so would make her feel less violated.
She didn’t care that his expression had turned from one of excitement to one of confused hurt or that the flush of his cheeks had paled and regret was now visible in his eyes.
She slammed her spoon down on the wood of the table. ‘I’m going for a walk. I’ll thank you not to go through my things again.’ She stormed out before he could speak and Bess, as usual, followed close behind.
Zara sat on the sand and looked out at the water. The sunlight glinted like tiny light bulbs bobbing on the surface as the breeze caused little ripples. Overhead a couple of birds caught thermals and floated, dipping and looping. So peaceful. So uncomplicated.
How dare he read it? How bloody dare he? But… did he mean what he said? Or was he just being nice? Or did he think it was utterly crap but said it was good to cover up the guilt he felt for reading it in the first place?
She sighed heavily and, as if she sensed her mood, Bess placed a paw on her arm. ‘Oh, Bess, I’m going to miss you when I leave.’ Saying the words out loud caused a ball of emotion to tighten her throat and her eyes began to sting. ‘I think I’ll miss your owner too, but don’t tell him I said so, okay? I bet he’ll be glad to see the back of me. Especially over that reaction to him reading my stupid book.’
*
By the time she had returned to the house Lachlan had gone. She had no idea where or how long he would be, but she had calmed down and realised that her overreaction could have just caused her to lose a friend. Because that was what Lachy had become. It might have been fast but he’d been there for her when she’d been vulnerable and needed someone. He’d taken her in when she’d had nowhere to stay. And how had she repaid him? By being a snappy, childish bitch. Instead of focusing on the fact that the first person to read her book – an intelligent person to boot – had loved it, she had focused on the fact that he had read it without permission. He’d read an open document on his own bloody laptop. In truth he could’ve kept quiet about reading it and she’d have been none the wiser. The fact that he loved the book so much that he was excited to discuss it should have been the wonderful thing to cling to in all this. She needed to make amends pretty damned quick.
She riffled through his fridge, freezer and cupboards hunting for ingredients. Lasagne, I can’t go far wrong with lasagne, she thought as she piled up the necessary items. Bess watched her every move with a tilted head and a string of drool hanging from her mouth.
‘Ugh, Bess, you’re no lady, are you?’ Zara laughed as she ruffled the dog’s fur. ‘Right, I need to make this special meal for your human. Does he like lasagne?’ she asked the black and white canine, who simply licked her lips. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
Two hou
rs later Lachy appeared. Zara was sitting at the table facing the door and stood as soon as he walked in.
‘I wanted to—’
‘Lachy, I’m—’
He gestured in his typical gentlemanly way. ‘You first.’
She held up her hands. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I totally overreacted and it was ridiculous. You’ve been so good to me and you didn’t deserve me going off on you like that. I totally understand if you want me to take my tent and camp somewhere out there until the new bike arrives. But I made you lasagne. Think of it as an apology lasagne. Now, I’m no expert chef. No one will be renaming me Nigella Lawson any time soon. And I think the cheese is burned. And I may have overdone it with the herbs, so you might not even want to eat it, but I had to do something to—’
She hadn’t even realised he had walked towards her but when his lips touched hers she gasped in a breath. His hand slipped into her hair and she parted her lips as she gripped his shirt. The kiss was intense and desire flooded her body like wildfire. His tongue caressed hers and her knees weakened.
When he pulled away he rested his forehead on hers. ‘Well, that certainly quietened you down.’ He smiled. ‘I had to do it because you really weren’t selling that apology lasagne. It was sounding more like revenge lasagne with every sentence.’
She touched her lips. ‘You kissed me.’
He stroked her cheek with the soft pad of his thumb. ‘I believe I did, yes. I’ve wanted to do it since that day you stood outside your tent with wild hair and crazy eyes professing to be a strong, independent woman. Now come on, feed me, woman. How bad can this lasagne be?’
23
Zara served up two plates of the lasagne but she couldn’t eat. The feel of Lachy’s lips pressed against hers remained and she couldn’t shake the sadness that was weighing heavily on her shoulders.
‘Well, for all the talking-down you gave it that lasagne was bloody delicious,’ Lachy said as he pushed away his empty plate. ‘You’ve hardly touched yours.’ He frowned.