I was trying to think of another time when I’d landed at an airport and was asked to sit on the runway on an old garden chair next to the plane I’d just arrived in. Yeah, weirdly, it had never happened before. Where the hell are you, Cal? I’d say the airport, but that was really bigging up the place. It was essentially a detached house that was badly in need of some renovation and a couple of run-down Portakabins. I wasn’t yet feeling the luxury wedding resort vibe.

Brian had left me with a short description of Drew. Dark hair, big hands and a bit nerdy, is what he actually said. I was expecting a Clark Kent lookalike with clown hands, but as a man walked towards me, I couldn’t say that I’d nailed my mental image with the real thing.

‘Miss Dixon?’ He held out his hand, covered in a fleecy glove and I shook it, wondering just how big his hands were because the rest of him was pretty much stellar man-chunk.

‘Cal. Caroline, but most people call me Cal,’ I said, trancelike and swoony.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he replied, sticking up his hand to wave at the pilot. ‘They didn’t give you complimentary slippers? Hand gel, eye mask?’ He smiled and it lit up his face. I couldn’t keep myself from staring at his eyes. They were brown and earthy. Rugged and free. They matched the landscape perfectly. He was wearing a baby blue and white striped bobble hat. A bloody bobble hat. Adorable. The kind you’d see a four-year-old wearing on their way to go sledging in the local park. I was fascinated. It was lodged behind his ears, making them stick out. Bloody adorable. It framed his face, encasing it in wool, making his eyes pop and highlighting everything that was beautiful about him. Why was that so adorable?

‘Still waiting for the mini toiletries,’ I replied, holding out my hands as he laughed.

‘You must be freezing. Rick, what are you doing leaving this lovely lady in the cold? Your pilot training should have taught you better than that. Customer service,’ he tutted, shaking his head as the pilot stuck his out the door of the plane, ducking so he wouldn’t hit it.

‘If you’d have been here on time, she wouldn’t be waiting,’ Rick shouted, giving him the finger. Drew grinned, repeating the gesture, and encouraged me to follow him to the plane hold.

‘Which one is yours?’

‘Those two.’ I pointed to two large Louis Vuitton cases.

‘Never assume,’ he said, banging his palm on his forehead. ‘Rick, do I have to do everything? Honestly, you can’t get the staff?’

‘Hey, you can fly the plane if you want to!’ Rick shouted from inside.

‘Don’t you think I have enough to do around here?’ He waved to Rick again before pulling my cases. ‘Maybe next time I’ll take her for a spin.’

‘Anytime, Drew. Catch you later.’

‘You fly?’ I asked as I followed behind him. I could see a tartan scarf tucked beneath his coat, a flash of neck transfixed me as he turned. ‘Yeah, I used to be a pilot for American Airlines. Five years service before I came here.’

‘You mean to tell me you could have picked me up from the airport yourself?’ I replied, stopping behind him with my hands on my hips before I broke into a smile.

He laughed. ‘Could have, yeah. I have my own.’ He pointed to a hanger that looked like it would topple over with one push of a finger. ‘She’s locked up for the winter.’

Sweet inspiration has landed on my lap.

‘Owner of a wedding slash holiday venue, a pilot and a baggage handler. Wow, you’re quite something,’ I said, smiling.

‘I’m a very accomplished multitasker,’ he replied, stopping when we reached a Land Rover. ‘Otherwise known as, jack of all trades, master of none.’

‘I don’t believe that for a second.’

He opened the boot and put in my cases like they were empty, not full of everything I thought I would need for the next month. As he lowered the boot he looked at me. Really looked. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh awkwardly, embarrassed by his appreciative gaze or rip open my coat, pull up my sweater and let him see the goods. Thankfully, I was wearing a nice bra. I could quite easily do it and not embarrass myself. My fingers were flexing and I was a second away from the coat coming off but then, he opened the car door.

‘You can get in the back; it will be comfier there. And I’ll have you warm before you know it.’

I didn’t like to say, but he already had.

I settled in the car, pulling on my seatbelt and smoothing back my hair. Drew got in the driver’s side and pulled off his hat in one messy swipe before ruffling his hair with his fingers. He pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror, pulling pieces into place. I watched him and our eyes met. That same flash of brown. Gorgeous. He let out a small embarrassed laugh like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t before he pushed the visor back up with a thud and turned the ignition.

‘We’re about ten minutes away. I’ll take you straight to your cottage and go through all the boring essentials and then I’ll leave you to get on with your writing.’ He reversed out of the parking spot and started to drive. ‘Positive thoughts that you leave here with a finished next bestseller,’ he said, giving a celebratory fist shake.

‘What exactly do you know about me?’ I asked, folding my arms. ‘You’re the second person today who knew what my mission is for the next month. It’s slightly unnerving.’

‘Welcome to island life,’ he replied.

‘Are you all snoopers?’

‘Yes,’ he deadpanned before cracking a smile. ‘News travels fast like it does in any small community. As for what I know about you? I know you’re an author. Gerry rang and booked the cottage out for a month. You’re the fourth one who’s been here now—aside from the retreat they did a few months back. When Gerry rings he chatters on about writer’s block to the point that I’m beginning to wonder what they’re putting in the water in London because it’s drying authors up. Taking all their words. It’s an epidemic. Truly.’

We caught each other’s eyes again in the rear-view mirror. Drew lifted his chin slowly to get a better look. I smiled in victory when he quickly looked away.

‘Why do I feel like you’re taking the piss out of me?’ I asked.

‘I’m not taking anything,’ he replied. ‘Gerry does talk about writer’s block when he calls but didn’t say anything about you specifically. I just assumed. Sorry.’

I sighed as I looked out of the window. It was getting dark already and it wasn’t even past 4:00 pm. ‘No, you’re right. I have writer’s block. I’m a writer with no words. How ridiculous is that?’

‘I can imagine that’s not a good thing. Surely words are pretty vital in your line of work?’ He glanced in the mirror and I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh. Full-on, couldn’t-stop-myself-if-I-tried belly laughs. The guy had a killer deadpan delivery that just seemed to twang my funny bone. ‘I wasn’t sure which way that would fall,’ he said. ‘I was balancing on the edge of going too far but decided just to go for it.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ I replied, wiping my eyes. ‘You’ve got the jokes, Drew, and I’m so going to need that.’