Page 50 of Scotch on the Rocks

Ducking beneath her arm so I wouldn’t be tempted to deliver a swift slap to that arse, I spread the sealant, holding it in place as it dried. “You’re way off with the bran flakes.”

“And the rest?” The side of her breast grazed my cheek.

I squeezed my eyes closed, any playfulness fleeing as I ground out, “I’m rough when the mood strikes.”

The jovial mood snapped, and we worked in silence after that, her holding the pieces with a steady grip as I bolted the cistern in place and sealed it to the wall.

“That’s it?” she asked minutes later, smoothing out the creases in her skirt as she stood.

“That’s it.” I wiped off my dusty hands, handing the cloth over when she grimaced at the state of her own.

“Do you have a phobia of dirt?” I blurted like an untactful arsehole. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it before, but her reaction this morning had been more than simple disgust at animal excrement.

“It isn’t the dirt,” she replied, gaze never straying from her task. Words clipped enough to issue aquit while you’re aheadwarning.

Push or retreat.

Push or retreat.

My decision flipped like a coin toss. Did I keep this safe semblance of a truce or forge on for more?

I’d never been good at playing it safe.

“Then what is it?” I made a show of collecting up my tools, giving her space. “We agreed a trade, one secret for another,” I reminded her. “I answered all your questions about the practice.”

“That’s hardly a fair trade, I’d have asked better questions if I’d known.”

My laugh was a cackle, her teasing feeling like a breakthrough. “Ask whatever you like, harpy, I’ll answer.” There was nothing she could ask that I wouldn’t trust her with.

“Why did you move back to Kinleith?”

Except that.

“You first,” I stalled. “Since we’re trading.”

She blew out a breath, eyes settling over my shoulder as she said, “I hate being an inconvenience. In foster care, the challenging kids are always moved on more quickly. I learned early on it’s better not to draw attention to yourself.”

Fucking hell.

Just like that, Juniper’s entire life unfurled before me like a flip book. No wonder she’d been pissed at my insinuation of knowing her.Hell, I might not know her at all, because I finally got it. All the ways she accommodated and made herself smaller. Never pushing her parents or Alistair for more – even her friends on occasion – because love could be withdrawn as easily as it was given.Fuck,even the damn cat and the wounds she bore like badges of honour.

I knew my expression was fierce as I dared a step nearer, my self-control crumbling. A slight bend of my knees, that’s all it would take for my lips to reacquaint themselves with the taste of her.

They found her forehead instead. Eyes clenching tight, I brushed them back and forth across her skin. “Thank you for telling me.” The words felt woefully insignificant. The tip of the iceberg of things I longed to say.

“You’re not going to assure me I’m not an inconvenience?”

Keeping her close, I tucked a silken strand of hair back behind her ear, tugging on the end of it until she looked at me. “Striving not to take up space in this world is an impossible long-term goal, sweetheart. I like a little bit of mess.”

I should pull away. We were tiptoeing down a dangerous path, with far more than my own heart on the line. But then she relaxed into my hold, letting me stroke over the delicate arch of her ear, and I knew there was no stopping the inevitable.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said after a long minute, her voice a little bit drowsy.

“What question?”

“Kinleith.” She yawned. “Why did you move back?”

“I wanted my own practice. Property here is cheaper than Edinburgh.”

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