Now she knew he disliked closed-in spaces and he hated spiders.
“What about you?”
She looked away. “It would be easier to talk about the things I’m not afraid of.”
“But that’s cheating,” Ian chided, his voice light and teasing.
A smile tugged at her lips. He already knew the big fears. She supposed she didn’t have to go into those. “Um … well. I hate shots. I gave Moira a bloody nose once, trying to get away from her and the nurses before they could give me my vaccinations.”
Ian came to a stop, gaping at her. “You what?”
She blushed, furiously embarrassed. “You heard me. I hate shots. They terrify me.” She jerked a shoulder in an awkward shrug. “I haven’t had one since … hell. I don’t even know. I get the flu vaccine now, but only because they came out with that nasal mist. Back in high school, I even passed out once.”
Ian rubbed his ear. “I’m sorry, I’m still hung up on the bloody nose bit.”
Neve rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious,” he said, shaking his head. “Your sister, she can be rather intimidating. That you bloodied her nose … well, that’s rather shocking.”
With a sound that was part laughter, part derisive snort, she started to walk again, tugging on his hand. She moved her gaze to the river, the moon shining down on it and splintering into a thousand shards of silvery-white.
“I’ve missed this.”
The night air was soft, wrapping around them like a muggy blanket. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck, but it didn’t bother her.
Ian just looked at her, waiting.
“Home,” she said simply. “New York … well, I loved it there. London—it would be hard to say if I enjoyed it or not, since I never really had a chance to experience it on my own. I loved Scotland, though. But no place every really felt like home.”
“That’s because no place else was home for you.” He squeezed her hand.
Nerves fluttered inside her. She told herself not to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Is … is Scotland still home for you?”
“In some ways, yes. Braemar, in a way, will always be home. But there are shadows there,” Ian told her. He came to a halt, still holding her hand.
She turned to face him, but he was gazing out over the river. “Braemar was home because it was where Mum raised me. I was happy there. But when she died, a part of me died, too. You can probably understand that, I think. It … it was fast and ugly, she hurt so much. I barely recognized her in the end. Those memories tarnish the memories of home. Aviemore…” He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “As much as I loved my gran, that place was never home. I moved to Glasgow after university, lived there until Brannon talked me into coming here, but it wasn’t home.”
“Where is home?”
Finally, he turned his head and smiled at her. “It’s here. I miss Scotland, but I can go back in the summer and last year, I went back at Christmas. I can always go back and visit, but when it’s done, I’m ready to come back here. I think I’ve found my home, Neve.”
Those words made one of the knots in her chest loosen. It didn’t unfurl completely, but she thought maybe it was starting to.
* * *
Lost in the shadows, William watched.
When Neve had driven into town that evening, anticipation had spread through him.
He knew Campbell’s schedule. Not only had he been watching, but he’d made a couple of careful questions, had even made a few calls—asking when he might be able to find the manager in. Oh, he took caution there. I’ve a business matter to discuss with the manager—which days is he available? Should I set up a meeting or just drop in … of course, of course. Thank you so much.
Thursdays were the only days he wasn’t in the pub, so naturally, when the Thursday rolled around and he saw Neve approach, he’d been excited. He’d even considered going in after her, but decided against it. Brannon lived in town as well and William had prowled around enough to know that there was a back entrance. Both of those sods could and did use the back entrance.
It was a good thing he’d exercised caution because no sooner had he made the decision not to go in after Neve did he see Campbell come striding down the walk of the building next door.
And into the pub he’d gone.
Now the two of them were making fools of themselves, Neve plastered against Campbell. Blood roared in William’s ears as he saw Campbell’s hands settle on Neve’s bottom. In response, she wiggled even closer.
She’d never reacted to him quite like that.
In the beginning, there had been some shy, almost hesitant responses, but as years passed, it had been like he’d been touching a doll. A beautiful, living doll. His fucking doll.
“Whore,” he whispered.
Neither of them heard.
He clenched his hands into fists and thought about going after her right there, grabbing her away from Campbell.
But memory stopped him.
Pride kept him from remembering it accurately—kept him from remembering how Campbell had thrashed him rather soundly. But his body did remember.
So he stood there—and he hated.
* * *
“I see you’re avoiding going off the beaten path these days.”
Neve blushed as Gideon stopped by the table.
Ian leaned back in his chair and grinned up at Gideon. “Well, now. I wouldn’t say that. We’ve just chosen to find a bench a little more … out of the way.”
Gideon lifted a brow.
Neve kicked Ian under the table.
They hadn’t done anything of the sort, although now she wondered if there were more private … benches close by.
It might not do much good, though.
Ian had played the perfect gentleman, right up until the time it took for him to walk her back to her car and at that point, he proceeded to kiss her until she was panting for breath and her knees threatened to collapse on her.
She thought maybe he was trying to drive her out of her mind.
Further evidence came when a hand came to rest on her knee under the table. His thumb began to trace a pattern that sent a shiver through her.
“I’d keep that to yourself if I was you,” Gideon advised. “Somebody mentioned they’d seen the two of you out in a lip-lock yesterday in front of Brannon and he looked like he’d swallowed a bug.”
“He’s a big boy, Brannon.” Ian said as his fingers slid a little higher on her thigh. “He’ll handle it.”
Gideon just shook his head, amused. “You two behave.” Then he made a quick stop by the counter to grab his lunch and was gone.
“You just like getting a reaction out of people,” Neve said, shaking her head.
Ian smiled. “I’d like to get certain reactions out of you.”
He squeezed her knee and just like that, his hands were gone. “I was thinking, maybe we could try something besides lunch soon.”
Wary, she eyed him. “Oh?”
“A movie, maybe. We could drive over the bridge to Louisiana one weekend … grab a movie.”
A real date. She grabbed her drink and took a healthy swallow, trying to give herself time to think. But then she remembered what he’d told her. You think too much.
Just as she was looking up, something across the street caught her eye.
She froze, the cup falling from numb hands.
She barely noticed as it started to tip over. Ian caught it, but she was leaning forward. Was that—
A car drove by, cutting off her view.
No. The man turned his head, called to somebody down the road.
“Neve.”
Ian’s voice was soft, gentle.
She turned her head and met his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. She had to clear her throat, though, and then she said it again, more to herself than anything. “I’m fine.”
Still, that uneasiness wouldn’t go away.
* * *
/> “Would you like a bit of lunch?”
William barely spared the plump English innkeeper a glance as he strode across the foyer.
They’d been at the diner again, Neve and Campbell.
They were together almost every bloody day.
She was hardly ever alone and when she was, it was for just a moment and even when she was alone, there were people around.
Each day, he watched, waited for a chance to speak with her. He’d tried calling, but the phone would just ring endlessly. Once, to see what she’d do, he’d tried calling her as she sat with that arrogant sod.
Just as he’d given up waiting for her to answer, she’d glanced down and reached for her purse, pulling out a phone.
He’d held his breath—
And the rings continued as she answered a phone that clearly had a different number, a warm smile on her face as she greeted her caller.
She’d gotten a new phone.
“I’ve got some fresh soup and bread—”
“No, thank you,” he said, shooting a narrow look at his hostess.
“Is…”
He turned his head and stared at her, briefly wondering what she’d said her name was, but then he dismissed it. It didn’t matter what her name was. She was providing a service and he expected courtesy and efficiency. He did not expect conversation, nor did he desire it.
“Well, then.” She gave him a tight smile and nodded. “If you’re in the mood for tea later this afternoon, just let me know.”
She disappeared into the house, the line of her shoulders rigid.
William ignored her, moving straight to his room. Fury was a burning lance in his gut but he closed the door calmly.
Neve was making a fool of herself—and him. She was his, yet every day for nearly a week, he’d watched her sharing a meal with another man. Laughing and smiling at that man, as though William wasn’t even a passing thought in her head anymore.
It wasn’t to be tolerated.
Moving to the window, he stared out over the tree-lined street, considering his options.
He’d waited for a chance for them to speak privately and that had yet to happen. He’d tried calling her and the stupid bint had changed her number.
Something, William mused, had to be done.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You should go.”
“Right, I should do that.” Instead of doing anything of the sort, Ian pressed his mouth to Neve’s neck.
Her soft, shaky sigh was the reason behind that gesture, just as it had been the reason he’d done it the first time, five minutes earlier. Her fingers twisted in the front of his black shirt and the sun beating down on him had sweat forming under the dark material, but really, what did he care if he had a heatstroke? He figured it would be Brannon’s fault. Brannon was the sod who’d insisted that if Ian wouldn’t wear the McKay colors he’d had to make do with the unobstrusive black and khaki. Like Ian was going to wear the plaid of the McKays. He was a fucking Campbell.
Neve whispered his name and he skimmed his lips up her neck to kiss her again.
She kissed him back and he toyed with the hem of her shirt.
“Ian!”
He recognized the voice. Decided he’d just as soon ignore it.
But Neve pushed her hands between them.
Couldn’t ignore that.
As her brother came striding up, she blushed a lovely shade of pink and he caught her hand, lifting it to his lips.
“Can’t you find some other place to paw my sister?” Brannon snapped.
“I could.” Ian winked at her. “Want to come up to my place?”
Neve choked out a nervous laugh and Ian had to dodge away as Brannon made a swipe for him.
“Don’t hurt me,” Ian warned, trying not to laugh. “You’ll have to handle the deliveries if you do. Chap hates the delivery driver that comes today.”
Brannon gave him a snarling sort of glare and Ian chanced one last quick kiss for Neve, then dodged around the car, jogging up to the pub.
* * *
Neve watched him go, her heart racing while a grin lingered on her lips.
“This is apparently a regular thing for you.”
She turned her head to see Brannon studying her. “What?”
“This…” He waved a hand between her and the pub. “You two.”
“We…” Um. She cleared her throat. “Well, we’re just having lunch.”
He stared at her hard, but didn’t push. Instead, he changed the subject. “We need to go over some of the plans—the tile I wanted for the main room apparently isn’t going to work. They did a recall. You got time?”
She made a face. “I guess I’ll have to make time.”
As they started up the sidewalk, Brannon jammed his hands into his pockets. “So what’s with you and Ian?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. “Me and Ian?”
“Yeah.” He stared at her hard. “You know, the big guy who had his hands all over you. In the middle of the street.”
She narrowed her eyes. “We weren’t in the middle of the street. We were by the car. But next time, we can try kissing in the middle of the street. For comparison.”
Brannon went to say something and then apparently thought better of it. They started to walk again, but before they reached the building, he asked, “Have you heard anything from…”
Ice suddenly replaced the heat in her veins. “No.” Her voice trembled and she hated it. Clearing her voice, she said it again. “No.”
“Will you?”
She reached out to push the door open but paused to look back at him. She wanted to lie, wished she could. But all she could offer was the truth. “I don’t know.”
“What do you think?”
Troubled, she looked away. “I think … yes. I think sooner or later, William will come looking for me. I embarrassed him, Bran. He won’t tolerate that.”
* * *
“Running late, boss!” Chap grinned at him from behind the bar, his lean, dark face amused.
“I’m one minute behind,” he pointed out.
“Considering that you’re usually here about twenty minutes early, that makes you twenty-one minutes behind.” Morgan grinned at him from where she stood, wiping down menus. She wagged her brows at him. “And how is Neve today?”
“Sod off, all of you,” he suggested.
Chap laughed.
Morgan, though, followed after him as he headed to his office. “Is … um … well, is Neve doing okay?”
He glanced at her, frowning.
“What do you mean?”
Morgan shrugged. “I used to hang out with her some in school. Not a lot, but some. We used to get in a lot of trouble. Mostly because of who we were with. The few times I’ve seen her here, she just doesn’t seem like herself. I’ve wondered.”
Ian took his time answering. He liked Morgan quite a bit, really. But he didn’t join in on gossip. “I think you’d need to talk to Neve about that.” After a moment, he added, “I don’t think a lot of people have spared much time to visit with her. She’d probably enjoy it.”
Morgan gave him a weak smile. “We didn’t exactly spend much time talking. We were mostly just looking to … well, get out of school. Kill time. It’s not like we were best friends or anything.”
“I don’t think you need to be best friends to drop in and tell somebody hello.” But he left it at that.
And when Morgan left, he dropped down behind the desk and gave himself a few more minutes to relive the pleasure of yet another afternoon with Neve, the woman who was slowly turning him inside out.
Now if he could just figure out how to have her join him for something other than lunch.
* * *
“I’m sorry. We’re not open yet.”
Walt Stephenson bit back on the frustration he felt and pasted an affable smile on his face.
Considering the fact that they had one giant-ass sign out front announcing just when the museum would open, he didn’t
see why he needed to be pointing this out, but the man in the three-piece suit apparently either couldn’t or chose not to read said sign.
“Yes, thank you.”
Walt’s belly growled, reminding him that it had been going on six hours since he’d sat down to the monster breakfast his wife of twenty years still insisted on cooking every day. He’d been on his way outside to eat the sack lunch she’d prepared from last night’s leftovers and he wanted to get off his feet awhile. Moira McKay looked like a little bit of fluff, but she worked his damn rear end off.
But the man wasn’t moving. Scratching at his neck, Walt tried again. “Seeing as how we’re not open yet, is there something I can do for you?” He paused a moment and then asked, “Are you lost?”
“Hardly.”
A lash of disdain worked its way into that single word and Walt slowly straightened, but the man smiled then and it warmed his face considerably. “I’m looking for Ms. McKay—Moira McKay. She’s in charge here, yes?”
“That’d be right.” Walt plucked at his left brow, an old, absent gesture. “But she’s not here. She had meetings today. You should call next time before you come out. She’s only here a few days a week.”
“Hmm. What about the younger McKay … Neve? It’s important that I speak to one of them. Or perhaps Mr. McKay?”
“None of them are here.” Tapping his bagged lunch against his thigh, Walt continued. “I run things when Moira isn’t here. And then there’s Mr. Hurst. He could talk to you, if it’s urgent business about the museum.”
“No.” Angling his head, the man studied Walt.
It gave him the feeling that he was a bug on a slide, the way this guy kept eyeing him. Want me to do a trick or what? He managed to keep his expression polite and his irritation under wraps, but he was getting annoyed.
“Then perhaps you could come back later. Or leave a message.”
“It is urgent,” he said. “And personal. Perhaps you could tell me where I could find the McKays? They live in town, correct?”
Walt took a step forward, forcing the other man to either back up or hold his position and stare up at Walt’s thick, sun-reddened neck.
Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) Page 21