Page 8 of Scotch on the Rocks

Callum: Make that twenty!

“Did you really wear those shoes to a beach party, harpy?” Every muscle in Juniper Ross’s perfect body tensed at the sound of my voice.

Then in true Juniper fashion, she didn’t whirl, but spun with slow calculation – no doubt getting sand in those chunky black loafers – to glare at me, eyeing the six-pack tucked under my arm with an eye roll. “A few grilled sausages and a crate of beer hardly constitutes a party.”

“Sure is fun though.” I winked. Another move guaranteed to get her icy blood pumping. As was the way my eyes dragged down her body, over the short little skirt, made even shorter by her mile-long legs. “Shit, you’re even wearing tights.”

“My tights are better than …” she trailed off, nosewrinkling at the swim shorts covered in tiny half-peeled bananas I’d slung on after racing over from my parents’ place. “What even are those?”

Adjusting the six-pack, I spun in place, giving her a full view of the goods. “Swimming shorts, harpy. Don’t let the size of the bananas fool you.”

She grimaced like they were the most offensive things she’d seen in her life. “I suppose I should be thankful you didn’t wear the Speedo I know you have tucked away somewhere.”

“Imagine it often, do you?”

Instead of answering, she snapped her sunglasses down over her eyes. The frames slightly tilted like cat eyes.Fucking classy is what they are.“As always, lovely chatting to you, Macabe.”

I won’t lie, I watched her walk away. Her slight hips swaying all the way to the shoreline where she accepted a canned drink from April, my brother Mal’s girlfriend.

“Callum!”

“Callum!”

It took a third shout to drag my attention away.Bloody infuriating woman.

Cutting through the small group, I crossed to where Mal was manning a grill. The smell of charcoal-burned meat enough to make me wince.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled as soon as I was in earshot. Hair stuck to his forehead. Sweat pouring down his flushed, stubbled cheeks.

I’d promised last week to help carry the grill down the steep bank from his cottage to the small, private beach that bordered Kinleith Whisky Distillery.

I’d also promised to do the cooking.

And pick up the cake.Shit, I forgot the cake.

“Sorry, sorry!” Setting the crate down by the ice boxes, Iyanked the spatula from his hand, manoeuvred him away from the waist-high flames and lowered the gas before we became responsible for a wildfire.

Today was April’s birthday and my sweetheart of a baby brother had wracked his brains for an entire month, trying to plan something special. The low-key beach party had been my suggestion. Which he’d agreed to so long as I was around to help with the cooking.

“I got caught up at Mum and Dad’s.”

He paused, holding a bag of half-opened hot dog buns. “Everything all right?”

We all had a …complicatedrelationship with our father, Mal more than any of us.

Jim Macabe was an arsehole, to put it bluntly. An arsehole obsessed with the idea of moulding his sons intosuccessfulmen.As the oldest boy, I’d been placed into boxing lessons from the time I could walk. And when I came of age, the British army. Just like dear old Dad. Alistair had replicated our father’s later-in-life vocation as a general practitioner. Malcolm, being the only son who dared to live the life he wanted, had paid the price in the form of years of verbal put downs. Dad never missed an opportunity to let Mal know how disappointed he was with him.

Now Jim Macabe was an arsehole with Alzheimer’s. And it had all become a lot more …complicated.

That fucking word seemed to haunt me these days.

“Everything’s fine, just helping Mum throw out some old clothes,” I lied. If I told him Dad had developed a habit of wandering from the house over the last few weeks he’d only offer to help. The last thing I wanted was Mal feeling obligated to get involved.

He nodded, silently adding a couple of burgers to the grill while I flipped. “That bean burger is June’s. Don’t getit muddled with the meat or she’ll have my balls.” He shuddered and I laughed at the genuine fear in his tone.

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if I ate it?” I joked. As if there were any way I would actually follow through.

“If you piss off my best friend at my birthday party, I’ll haveyourballs.” April appeared out of nowhere, ducking under Mal’s arm to wrap hers around his waist. She looked pretty as a picture, her red hair seeming to burn against the light blue summer dress.

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