“Go ahead and make a good team,” she muttered. “See if I care. God, you’re such an idiot, Kat. To even think you could get him to—”
“Hey—”
She jumped when Brodie put his hand on her arm. The sack bobbled dangerously, clanking the soda bottles together that were tucked inside. Brodie moved easily to take the bag from her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me.”
“What?” she said, knowing she sounded testy beyond reason and that he’d have no way of understanding why. But there wasn’t much she could seem to do about it. Hell, after her little performance earlier, God only knew what he was thinking. At the moment, she just wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and hope he eventually forgot all about today. Maybe Daisy could take his mind off of it. The thought made her scowl deepen.
He lifted his hand from her arm, palm out in a placating manner. “Nothing. I—I just wasn’t sure—” He broke off and cocked his head, his typical teasing smile nowhere to be seen. A sincere look of concern colored his expression instead. “Are you okay? You seem all jittery or something today and…well, and I don’t know. Just not you. Alastair seemed a little off with me today, too. Is everything okay?”
“He thinks he’s invincible and hates it when life proves him otherwise. I wouldn’t take it personally.” It took what was left of her control, but she held his gaze directly and did her best to sound like her normal self, praying he wouldn’t push this further. “I’ll come around later, after we close up, and let you beat me at a round of darts. Okay?”
His expression didn’t change, and she found herself holding her breath. Why-oh-why couldn’t things be easier? Staring into those beautiful hazel eyes of his, eyes she knew almost better than her own, knowing they reflected a soul that was just as beautiful…she wished she could have fallen for almost anyone else. Anyone other than her best and closest friend.
“Okay,” he said, his voice a shade on the gruff side. “But there will be no letting me win. You’ll have to beat me fair and square.” His lips quirked just a little, and that twinkle of mischief lit up his eyes. It was no wonder women couldn’t resist him. Lord knew she couldn’t.
Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty. It was ridiculous, letting him have this effect on her after all these years. And yet there was nothing she could seem to do about it. “I’m sure I’m up to the challenge,” she responded, a smile of her own threatening. It was hard to be around Brodie and not smile. Of course, he took her statement as typical Kat Henderson bravado, not the flirting banter she wanted it to be.
His smile grew to a grin that made the dimple in his chin deepen and the corners of his eyes crinkle. He needed a haircut, too, she noted absently, his unruly mop threatening to cascade down into his eyes. She wanted badly to reach up and push the tangle of dark curls off his forehead. Wanted to trace her fingertips across his lips. Her nipples went hard and the muscles between her thighs tightened in almost painful awareness. And she wondered just how shocked he would be if she told him what was going through her mind in that moment. How badly she wanted to trace that dimple in his chin with the tip of her tongue.
He pushed the bag of sandwiches back into her arms. “Better fortify yourself, then,” he told her. “You’re going to need all the help you can get. I’m feeling lucky today.”
If you only knew how lucky you could get, she thought woefully. “Big talk,” she retorted, edging away from him, wishing like hell he’d either leave and let her get herself back under some semblance of control…or rip the bag out of her hands and toss it aside before yanking her into his arms, pushing her up against the nearest wall and taking her right then and there. Now that would be lucky. “Save it for later,” she finished hurriedly, before turning tail and basically running away.
She’d made a big enough fool of herself for one day. She had no idea if she’d be in any frame of mind to go to Hagg’s later or not. At the moment, she just wanted to check on her father…and get far enough away from Brodie so she could get her head back on straight. Not to mention various other clamoring body parts. She had to get a serious grip. And she had to do it soon.
Five hours later the only thing she’d gotten a grip on was the undercarriage of Hinky’s Mini. “Bollocks,” she swore as a huge glob of axle grease plopped on her forehead and oozed back toward her hair. At this rate she was never going to make it to Hagg’s tonight. She’d talked herself into and out of going at least a dozen times. It was already an hour past the time they usually closed up shop, but with her father out of commission for the most part—hard to be a mechanic with only one hand—she’d taken on his project, as they’d promised it to Hinky before the end of the week. Or her father had, anyway. It was a wonder the damn thing ran at all, but to Hinky it was like a recalcitrant child who needed a bit of coddling or bullying from time to time. The one time she’d suggested that he might consider getting a new car, he’d looked at her as if she’d suggested he murder his youngest child.
“Maybe I’ll do it for him,” she muttered, thinking there was no amount of bullying that was going to save this rusted hulk this time. But she was also every bit as stubborn as any blasted automobile, and she’d be damned if this one was going to do in two Hendersons in one day. So, with a deep huff, she blew her hair off her forehead—the parts that weren’t mired in axle grease, anyway—and redoubled her efforts. If she could just get this last part dismantled without the whole thing cracking up, she could start actually replacing parts and putting it all back together in the morning.
What felt like minutes later, she heard the tower clock across the square chime eight times. How in the hell had it gotten so late? At this rate she’d never get upstairs and cleaned up in any decent fashion. She snorted at her foolish anxiety. Like it mattered what she showed up looking like. It was just another evening at Hagg’s. Not a person there hadn’t seen her looking just like this or worse. Which was half the problem. She wondered if Brodie even noticed her appearance anymore.
It was early spring, generally the height of tourist season in Scotland, but Glenbuie wasn’t exactly a hot spot of activity. Yes, they were known to some degree for the Chisholm family whisky distillery, which had been actively producing the locally famous Glenbuie whisky for over two hundred years. But being located on the westernmost end of the Tayside region, they weren’t exactly in the whisky tour loop that annually brought tourists to the highlands in droves. And with no castle ruins of any repute nearby, Glenbuie had been more or less left to prosper on its own merits. Some time periods in history had proven better than others, and at the moment, they were just hanging in there, doing their best.
The distillery was still the main source of income for most of the townsfolk, either directly as employees of the family-owned company, or the indirect beneficiary of having a large employer located just outside of the village. More and more, the younger generation had migrated north to Inverness or south to Edinburgh, or even farther, to London and points beyond. Kat, on the other hand, was perfectly content with her lot in Glenbuie. There had been Hendersons here almost as long as Chisholms, who had held the clan seat for close to four hundred years.
The motor repair shop was the only one in over a fifty-kilometer radius, so they managed okay. And okay was good enough for her. She was happy here, living amongst the same people she’d known her whole life. She’d never harbored dreams of being a big success somewhere else. She was quite content with her modest lifestyle and the security that came with knowing she belonged. She was well rooted to the land, the people, and the town itself, its past and its future. There was enormous comfort in knowing she was but one of a long line of Hendersons who had helped shape the course of Glenbuie’s history. And would continue to shape its future. Unless, of course, the line died out with her.
Her contentment ebbed, and her stomach knotted a little. Visions of Brodie, smiling and laughing as he served and sang with the townsfolk they’d both grown up with, swam through her mind. He was much like
her in his beliefs, his feelings about life in Glenbuie, and his attachment to all that came with it. Why couldn’t he see how perfect it would be for the two of them to continue on together?
Of course, there was that wee problem of him not knowing she wanted him like that. But honestly…“How bleedin’ hard is it for him to see what’s right in front of his charming devil of a face?”
“Kat? Is that you under there?”
For the second time that day, she startled badly. This time it caused her to yank hard on the wrench in her hand, which had the fortunate result of finally loosening the damn oil pan. Which led to the unfortunate result of gelatinous glops of crud plopping down on her face. “Jesus and Mary,” she swore, spluttering.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Daisy bent down as Kat shoved herself out from under the car, blindly reaching for the rag, any rag, within groping distance. Daisy grabbed one from next to the tool tray. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Kat’s hand. “I’m really sorry.”
Kat sat up as she scraped the greasy goop from her face and fringes of her hair.
“You have some there,” Daisy said, helpfully pointing to Kat’s ear.
Kat purposely didn’t look at her for fear she’d say something she’d later regret. Why was it that the one person who, without even trying, made her feel like some kind of cretinous grease monkey, had to see her looking, well, like a cretinous grease monkey. She supposed it could be worse. She could have showed up with Brodie in tow. Not that he hadn’t seen her looking her worst many times over, but at least on those occasions she had been spared the immediate comparison to Miss Sunshine Bright here.
“Right,” Kat finally managed. “Is there something I can do for you?” As far as she knew, Daisy had come to town by train and taxi and didn’t even own a car. So it was doubtful she was here on business.
“I, uh, I was wondering…how is your father?”
Kat cocked her head. Daisy MacDonnell, nervous? Not that she knew the woman all that well, or at all, really, but in their brief acquaintance, Kat couldn’t recall her ever being anything but completely together, both in appearance and manner. “He’s grumpy and in general being a real baby about the whole thing. Nothing that I hadn’t expected. I sent him down to Hagg’s a few hours ago. I imagine he has a pint or two in him now and feeling quite fine. Which suits me, as I can get more work done that way.”
Daisy looked momentarily nonplussed by Kat’s lengthy response. Apparently she hadn’t been expecting such a frank answer to what had likely been a polite query and nothing more. Tough. Kat didn’t put a lot of stock in small talk or polite queries. Ask her something and she’d tell you what she thought.
When Daisy didn’t reply or, even better, wave her off and disappear, she said, “Anything else I can do for you?” Perhaps she was a bit more terse than absolutely necessary, but she had work to do, dammit. Any chance of making it to Hagg’s tonight was looking more remote by the minute. Although if Daisy was headed that way, Kat’s enthusiasm for an evening out dwindled rapidly. She had no actual plan in place for getting Brodie to notice her once she was there, mind you, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. Even she knew better than to play her hand while someone else held all the aces. She’d wait until the odds were at least partially in her favor. With grease currently dripping off her nose, it was a pretty safe bet that now was not that time.
“Actually, the real reason I came over here—not that I’m not interested in your father’s health, I am,” Daisy added quickly. “But as you know, I’m new to Glenbuie, and though I’ve met most everyone it seems, and you all couldn’t be more warm or welcoming, I, uh…”
Kat had to bite her tongue to keep from mentioning that it had been the men warmly welcoming her more than anything, but then as Kat was one of very few single women left in Glenbuie within a decade of their age group, that probably would have sounded a bit too much like sour grapes. Then she noticed Daisy was twisting her fingers together, and concern for her fellow man got the better of her. “Is something wrong? Did something happen at your shop? You seem a little…unnerved.”
Daisy laughed a bit unevenly, and Kat couldn’t help but notice that even her nervous laugh was melodious. Figured.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just, from the short time I’ve been here, I’ve noticed that there aren’t too many of us here in town.”
“Us?”
Daisy blushed. “Young, single women.”
“Well, I appreciate you pointing that out to me.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. God, I’m so screwing this up. I wasn’t meaning to offend, and I know I don’t even know you, but I was just thinking—hoping, really, I guess you could say, that, well…” She broke off and laughed again, only this time it was more solid, if a bit self-deprecating. “Jesus, I sound like a flighty dimwit. I’m not usually so off my game—it’s just that you’re a little intimidating, and it’s important to me that—”
“I’m intimidating?” Now it was Kat who laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
Daisy blew out a sigh and let her shoulders slump a little. “I am totally blowing this. You see, I was going to come over earlier today, when I saw you leave to go out for some lunch, offer to go with you, so maybe we could spend a little girl time together, get to know each other. But then I saw you and Brodie and I didn’t want to interrupt anything. And then your dad cut his hand and, well—” She broke off, shrugged. “It was probably silly of me. I just—I mean, I love it here and I am really enjoying everyone in town, but I guess I was hoping maybe we could—”
“Be friends?” Kat was still trying to digest the possibility that Daisy was nervous because of her. It was to laugh, really.
Daisy nodded, smiled a little. “Ridiculous hope, maybe, since you’ve lived here forever and probably aren’t in the market for new pals.”
“Nonsense.” Kat might be many things, but heartless in the face of someone putting themselves out there wasn’t one of them. She clambered to a stand and stuck her hand out, noticed the grease caking her fingernails, and quickly grabbed a rag instead. “I’m sorry. I’m a total mess here.”
“It’s amazing to me.”
Kat sent her a sideways glance. “What, that I’m constantly looking like something the cat dragged in, after dipping me in an oil pan? It’s rather difficult to fix cars without touching the greasy parts. Although, it’s possible, even probable that someone like you would find a way to manage it.” She hadn’t meant to make that last part sound so negative, really she hadn’t.
Now Daisy faltered. “What do you mean ‘someone like me?’ What I meant by amazing was that you’re a mechanic, and a very good one, to hear the people in town tell it. I can’t even change my own oil. Not that I have a car any longer to worry about, but when I did…” She shrugged. “I was hopeless at even the most basic repair. So the fact that you can dive in there and have any clue what’s what…” She trailed off and gave a self-deprecating shrug.
Kat felt her cheeks heat at the unexpected compliment. “I was raised with a wrench in one hand and a jack in the other. It’s in my genes, I guess. I can’t remember a time I didn’t know how to dismantle an engine.” She stared at Daisy, and though she really hated to admit it, she found it impossible not to like her. Just a little. Kat admired someone who went for what they wanted, especially in the face of their own insecurities. Bollocks. This just complicated things even further.
“And what I meant with my earlier remark was that no matter the weather, rain or shine, you always look as bright as your namesake. It’s a wonder to me. I’m about as inept at that as you are at changing your oil.” She smiled in response to Daisy’s grin, surprised at how natural and good it felt. “Once a grease monkey, always a grease monkey, I guess.”
Daisy impulsively stuck her hand out, then shook it a little, waiting for Kat to put hers there. “Come on. Grease and all.”
Kat gave Daisy’s perfectly manicured hand a tentative shake, but Daisy grabbed hold and pumped it prope
rly, then smiled when she held up her grease-smeared palm. “There, now we’ve sealed it. I can too get dirty.”
Kat laughed. “That only proves half the battle. I still don’t clean up well.”
“Oh, don’t be so certain about that. I bet your hair is amazing when you take it down. I always thought blondes had more fun.” She pushed at her own auburn, shoulder-length bob. “Mine is pretty boring.”
“Shut up. It falls in a perfect, shiny waterfall.” They both grinned, delighted by the easy banter between them. “And I never take mine down. It’s a pain when it’s loose.”
“That is an absolute crime. With your skin and those eyes…” Daisy’s eyes twinkled. “Are you close to calling it quits for the night?”
Kat looked back at the Cooper and sighed. “No, but I think I will anyway.”
“Good!” Daisy surprised her by looping her arm through Kat’s. “My turn now.”
“Your turn what?” Kat asked, only hoping she didn’t sound as alarmed as she suddenly felt.
“To prove you clean up well. When we’re done, we’ll head to Hagg’s and let the crowd be the judge. Deal?”
Kat stood there, helpless against Daisy’s relentless enthusiasm. “Uh, sure. Why not?”
And somewhere between a long, hot shower and Daisy doing her hair, then helping her pick out something other than dungarees to wear, Kat completely forgot she was consorting with the enemy.
Chapter 4
“One more, then I’m cutting you off for the night,” Brodie warned.
Auld Fife was one of Glenbuie’s oldest residents, and everyone knew he could put away a fair number of pints before debilitating any part of what remained of his senses. But Brodie didn’t want to spend the hour after closing time seeing Fife all the way to his cottage door. Normally he didn’t mind, but tonight he had other things on his mind. Most of them involving what was going on between Kat, Alastair, and, apparently, Daisy. And just where was Kat this evening, anyway? Neither she nor Daisy had shown up. Even without their earlier dart game challenge, Kat could usually be counted on to put in at least a brief appearance after closing the shop, if for no other reason than to give him a hard time and beat a hapless tourist at billiards. But here it was, almost half past nine, and not a sign of her.
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