Page 47 of Knots About You
‘I don’t have time to get ready.’
‘Ready?’ Owen wrapped clingfilm around the paintbrush and tray to prevent it from drying out before we applied the next coat.
‘I can’t go out like this. I am forty per cent paint. And that’s just what’s visible. It’s one thing to see me like this, but everyone else?’ Three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have set foot outside in this state to pick up milk, far less a social function.
‘Sure, you can. You look beautiful.’
‘I look a mess, Owen. I don’t usually go out without my face done, and I haven’t even washed my hair in three days. I look like I’ve been fighting with a roller. Which I have.’
He put the rag down, crossed to me, and cupped my painty face in those ridiculously big hands. ‘You are insanely attractive right now, exactly like this. Paint and all. Hair and all. You’re a smasher, city girl. If you want mascara, fine. If you don’t, I will spend the whole night trying not to drool over you anyway.’
Damn. The way he made my heart flip should be studied. ‘You’re just trying to placate me.’
‘Incorrect. I never say anything I don’t mean, Claire. Even covered head to toe in paint and grime, I have to fight not to rip your clothes off.’
‘That’s an activity I’d be a-ok with,’ I threaded my arms over his shoulders as his hands slipped to my ass.
‘Later, you little brat. For now, we need a drink and something that isn’t filming reels or decorating. You need to see the fun side of Otterleigh Bay.’
I dropped my eyes down to the space between us in an exaggerated way. ‘I can think of a fun side of Otterleigh I’dloveto get up close and personal with.
‘Buy me a pint and I won’t spank you for that.’ Owen moved a hand up to my hair, tugging it at the nape to expose my throat to his mouth. The way he dragged the flat of his tongue over my skin had me swooning.
‘Fine,’ I said, ‘but don’t think that spanking is the threat you think it is. I might like it.’
Satisfaction dripped between my thighs at the way his eyes darkened, and for a few moments, I thought he might say fuck the pub and bend me over instead. Anticipation tingled in my stomach.
‘Get you’re coat, Claire.’
Well, damn him and his willpower.
The Tipsy Otter had gone full Pinterest-level autumn. Pumpkins along the windowsills, mixed in with cute little colourful squashes, and even the odd turnip, as is the Scottish tradition. Paper leaves strung over the beams, draping the pub in golden yellows, burnt oranges and deep reds. Fairy lights twisted through them, and looking up was like walking through the woods with the sun behind the leaves. The noticeboard sported a flyer with a cartoon witch announcing ‘KARAOKE(NO CHILDREN AFTER 8 PM)’, the no children having been underlined twice. Someone clearly needed a child-free night out really badly. It was cosy and a little over-the-top, much like the village itself.
In the corner, the battered speaker did its best to cope with the loud, and often out-of-tune, songs that belted through it. Kenny clutched a clipboard like it was the most crucial job in the world. Strung conkers hung from the bar, where the local old soaks sat, trying to avoid pulling them down with every move of their knees. The place smelled like a unique mix of cinnamon and stale beer—quite the bouquet.
‘There she is!’ Morag waved us in like we were late. ‘The decorator.’
Her gaze skimmed me head-to-toe. A wave of nausea hit me as I waited for the inevitable judgment that came with going out looking such a mess. ‘You’re looking well, Claire. The sea air must be doing you good.’
It stopped me in my tracks.
My walks along the shore with Scruff certainly brought a healthy flush to my face, and the non-stop activity, both in and out of the bedroom, had my energy at record-high levels. Morag may have had a point.
Owen leaned in at my ear so I could hear him over Gretchen’s test warble. ‘Vodka lemonade?’
‘Yes, please. It’s karaoke. I require as much liquid courage as I can imbibe.’
He returned with a tray a few minutes later, sliding into the table we’d sat at during the quiz. Their table. Maybe my table? Isla descended upon us in a halo of excitement and a cardigan with leaf-shaped sequins.
‘Look at you two,’ she said with a grin. ‘Managed to drag yourselves from your love nest.’
‘It’s not a love nest.’ I took a sip of my drink while my face heated. ‘A love mess at best.’
Isla lifted a brow. ‘But still love?’
I choked on my drink, my eyes widening as I searched for a retort to that.
‘It’s a none-of-your-business.’ Owen gave his sister a look that screamed butt out, you nosy mare.
