Page 54 of Knots About You
A knock pulled my attention to the door, and my chest swelled. Proximity to Claire had started to do that. To make me go all melty inside.
Claire stood on the step with her eyes glittering from the wind. A foil-covered tray balanced on one hip and a large paper bag in her other hand. She wore a burnt orange sweater dress that clung in all the right places, and brown leather boots that rose to her knees. Meowrse materialised, pretended he’d never met me, and smeared his entire orange self around her calves.
‘Evening,’ I said, which came out gruffer than I’d planned.
‘Hey, you,’ Claire smiled before standing on her tiptoes. She stopped just shy of kissing me, her sweet breath tickling my lips.
I threaded an arm around her waist, careful not to upset the tray. ‘Hey, you.’
She sighed so prettily as I kissed her softly, peppermint drifting over me.
‘Come in. If you dare.’ I took the tray from her and moved aside to let her in.
‘Oh, I dare all right. I’ve been looking forward to teasing you publicly all day.’ Claire grinned at me before moving through to the kitchen. Meowrse tailed her, and so did I, like two fan boys. I slipped her coat off, pausing to kiss her neck as I did. Letting her past my boundaries had unlocked an even greater need to touch her. To make her smile.
Mum arrived with Isla shortly after, a storm of commentary about the Autumn fair bubbling between them, followed by Jeff with his trusty six-pack. Dad was last, one hand using the wallfor support as he walked. He looked… off. Paler. His breath coming a fraction faster than usual. He clocked me watching him and squared his shoulders.
‘All right, Owen?’ he said, like I was the one puffing my way into the kitchen.
‘Grand.’ I moved to pull out his chair, watching as he gripped the table while lowering himself down. ‘Sit yourself down.’
‘Aye, hold your horses.’ Dad grumbled as he sat.
‘Nice to see you again, Jim,’ Claire said, dealing out bowls. ‘And nice to meet you, Mrs Harris.’
‘Call me Jean, dear. Mrs Harris was my mother-in-law.’ Mum smiled softly at Claire, and hope warmed my chest. All my favourite people in one room.
‘Beer?’ Jeff offered. Isla and Dad took one, while I topped everyone else up with a glass of red wine.
Mum pulled me against her and kissed my jaw. It had been a long time since she could reach my cheek. ‘Now tell me all about how this young lady has increased our whisky sales. I’m told that the retirement home put pictures of my boy up on the walls.’
‘Jeez, Mum,’ I said, as heat crept up my collar.
‘I can’t blame them.’ Claire laughed. ‘He looks mighty fine in a kilt. Maybe we should send you up to give them all a dram.’
Isla snorted into her beer bottle while Mum’s eyes sparkled.
Dad sat at the head of the table, in his usual space. Claire was beside Mum, across from me, where I could watch them while praying they got on. Isla nudged me as I filled the bowls with steaming stew, while Jeff sliced Eilidh’s bread. The delicious smell of warm, crunchy tiger bread made me weak with hunger.
‘God, your stew is even better hot,’ Isla said, smiling across the table. ‘It’s almost indecent.’
‘Good barley,’ Dad added. ‘And he didn’t skimp for once.’
‘I never skimp.’ I took a slice of bread and lathered it with butter.
Jeff spied Claire’s silver tray sitting on the side. ‘Is that from Coffee and Crumbs?’
‘I popped over to pick up some dessert and Eilidh insisted I bring sticky toffee pudding,’ Claire said.
Mum clapped. ‘Oh, I love sticky toffee.’
The way Claire’s cheeks pinked made me reach for her foot beneath the table with mine. Her eyes met mine in a flash of blue.
We ate. The room filled with the clatter of spoons, the scrape of chair legs, and my mother’s appreciation as she dug into a double helping of pudding. Conversation centred around the Autumn Fair. Isla had a list as long as the shore to deal with: electricity points, gazebo weights, volunteer rotas, and ‘no children after eight’ signs for the fancy gin lot. Jeff pitched ‘artisan dog bandanas’ as a side hustle. Dad gave him a look that saidOn my arse.
‘Cosy Country are definitely sending a photographer now,’ Isla said, wagging a fork. ‘And two influencers are begging for behind-the-scenes access. We need the distillery front less… man-shed.’
‘It is not a pretty backdrop. Itiswhere we work,’ I said, bracing.
