Page 35 of Knots About You
ISLA: Please say yes because our video has gone fucking bananas.
ISLA: Cosy Country emailed & a woman called Poppy who has that Insta account that promotes tourism in Scotland. They want to visit THIS WEEK and do some content about you.
I groaned.
ISLA: Also, the comments remain unhinged. One woman has crocheted a mini version of you. With a not-so-mini appendage. It's wild. You’re bordering on a national treasure at this point. I’m coming by at noon. Have cake.
ME: Noon is fine. But know I’m doing this begrudgingly.
ISLA: Don’t you want the distillery to do well?
ME: Yes, but not on the strength of how veiny my forearms are or the speculation about what’s under my kilt.
ISLA: Oh, cry me a river. Must be soooooo terrible for you being fancied by half of the internet.
My phone buzzed again, but it wasn’t Isla who lit up my screen.
CLAIRE: Morning.
I smiled at the Meowrse like an idiot. ‘It’sher.’
ME: Good Morning. How are you feeling?
CLAIRE: Like I wish I’d bought bacon. And that I was rolling over in bed and giving you a whole different kind of good morning.
I made a noise like a strangled cat.
I could picture her, all bleary-eyed and messy-haired, grinning at me from under her blankets. And there I went, hard again.
She had me as keen as a bloody teenager.
ME: I have bacon…
CLAIRE: Are you bragging, or do you want to share? I have bread rolls… You have bacon. We’re a match made in heaven.
ME: Be there in fifteen.
Meowrse watched me as I got ready at the speed of light, brushing my teeth while taking the world’s quickest shower. Pulling on a t-shirt while grabbing the bacon from my fridge. Itried not to stumble as I yanked on my boots while snagging my keys.
I made it out in time to make a super speedy stop at Coffee & Crumbs to grab two cappuccinos dusted with chocolate.
Eilidh clocked me the moment the bell jingled. ‘Ah. The star arrives. Shall I curtsey?’
‘Please don’t, the coffees will suffice.’
‘Yes, M’lord.’ Titters from a handful of early risers drifted from over by the bookshelves.
I ignored their nonsense, despite the heat in my face, as I looked over the rows of baked goods.
‘Are you craving anything in particular?’ Eilidh asked as she frothed the milk.
‘No.’
‘I know a certain redhead loves the apple turnovers, especially the autumn ones that are super cinnamon-y.’
I could hear the rumour mills being kicked up a notch already.
Eilidh pressed the lids onto the coffee cups and slid them over the counter. ‘Is that everything?’
