Page 27 of Grace on the Rocks

Oh, to be seventeen and carefree.Bryantossed him a pair of work gloves and leaned in close to watch the instructional video.

“Seems easy enough,” the kid said when it finished, not a trace of sarcasm, andBryangrinned at his young cousin’s easy confidence.

Climbing the ladder ontoGrandadMac’sroof a few minutes later brought back a flood of memories thatBryanshould frankly have been prepared for, but they hit him all at once like the air from a jet turbine, so hard and fast he couldn’t face them head on and still breathe.Insteadhe inspected the shingles.

They were newer, dimensional shingles in remarkably good condition.Theroof he’d helped lay had been replaced sometime in the last few years.He’dbeen half-afraid he would need to do that before mounting the solar panels and beginning his green renovation.

“Eòghann says you’re going to make whisky?”Lùcasasked, stepping off the ladder beside him, staring out at the beach and the ocean and the great wide world beyond.

“That’s the dream.”

“Why?” the lad asked, and he seemed to hang on to his breath, awaitingBryan’sanswer. “Imean…”

“Good question.Iguess cause…Ilike doing it.”

Lùcas grinned and nodded, and they set to work, laying out the stanchions that would hold each solar panel in place atop its new home.

ChapterSeven

Because the sun never quite went down inBarra,Gracehad no concept of time when she awoke to an almighty ruckus directly overhead, jumpstarting her heart like an unexpected third-period fire drill.Immediatelynauseated, she ran a hand over her face and thenWesley’sside of the bed.Cool.KnowingWes, she’d been off to traipse the beaches and hills at some ungodly hour.

For a moment,Gracethought the clamor was a thunderstorm.Herwhole life she’d been landlocked.Whoknew what kind of storms sprang up in the middle of the ocean?Butthen the noise differentiated itself into metal hammering against metal and the whir of an electric screwdriver, a man-made not nature-made clangor.

Burrowing under the covers, she pressed a feather pillow to her ears to muffle the din.Shewas groggy, like she’d slept deeply and medicated, instead of just staying up ridiculously late to watch her brother play ball.

Only three years older,Diegohad been her hero since she was a little girl, no less so when he moved toFloridaall by himself as a young teen for theUSSoccerresidency program.She’dalmost forgotten about the years he spent inGlasgowin his early twenties.

After threeWorldCups, it wasn’t unusual to meet people who knewofhim, but people who actually knew him?Wellenough to call himDiegoinstead of the annoying press-sanitized,Mathilda-sanctionedSandy?Thatwas unexpected.

She’d recognizedTeàrlachalmost immediately.Hishair hadn’t been bleach-blond when she met him at the wedding, but his eyes were the same piercing blue, and there was something enticing about the delicate shape of his lips—a feature she now realized bore a striking resemblance to their host.Wasit aCelticthing?

Grace rubbed her face beneath the pillow, trying to clear the fog of jet lag and too little sleep.ThewayMr.Bare-ChestedBeeTattoohad looked at her before turning on the game…Likehe wanted to—she didn’t know what.

How did he even have access to anAmericansoccer stream?Surelyhe paid an arm and a leg for that.Wasit to followDiego’scareer?

And why onGod’searth was he making so much noise at—if her phone could be believed—a quarter past eight?Like, thanks for the wakeup call because she was already hours behind schedule, but come on,Mr.Bee.

This morning, she didn’t have the energy to do time-zone gymnastics before texting her brother.

Charlie (sp?)Buchanansays hello

Also yourMacNeilbuddy

Was he always an absolute ass?

Diego texted back immediately.

Teàrlach?Wherethe hell are you manita?

Now she did the math.Justpast midnightLAtime.

Scotland.Whyare you up?

Shouldn’t you be sleeping off that 3-0 victory?

Were you hurt on the tackle?Thatpendejo should’ve been thrown off the pitch!

I’m fine.Italways takes a while to come down from the adrenaline

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