Chapter Twenty-Six
Rory
I left Amelia to her shower and headed for the bar. I didn’t think she’d agree to turn back, but I’d had to ask. It was the responsible thing to do. Yeah, because you’ve been so responsible up until now.
I lowered my weary body to the barstool and waited for Gavin to notice me. When he did, a big grin broke out on his face. “Sutherland!” He came around the bar, clasping my hand and pulling me into a hard hug.
“Good to see you, man,” I said, hugging him back. Gav was Tommy’s age and had been tending bar here for as long as I’d been guiding on Skye. He’d even come with us for some day treks a time or two.
“I was hoping you’d show up. Tommy said you’d stayed behind to help a lass who got injured? That was surprising to hear—until he mentioned she was pretty.”
“Pretty” was too ordinary a word to describe Amelia. I pictured the sleepy look in her eyes before she kissed me, the curve of her lips, the rosy flush on her cheeks, the rise of her breasts above the navy fabric of her bra. No, pretty was too mundane a word for her.
“Rory?”
Gav was looking at me questioningly, and I realized I needed to answer him. I rolled my eyes and pretended a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “She had an important reason to finish, and I told her I’d help her. The fact that she’s pretty has nothing to do with it.”
“If you say so.” He dodged the fist I aimed at his arm and went back around the bar. “So, where is this bonnie lass? I’d like to meet her.”
“She’s showering in our room—” Shit. Why the hell had I said that? As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them—especially when Gav’s face lit up.
“Our room, eh? Well done, you!”
“It’s not like that.” But it could be if you would only get out of your own way.
“So you’re not interested in her, then? Tommy seemed to think otherwise.”
“Tommy needs to get a hobby that doesn’t include me,” I muttered.
“Aye, he does, but we’re talking about you, not him. What’s the big deal, anyway? You’re both adults.”
“You know why I stay away from the lasses in the groups I’m guiding.”
“Rory, not every woman is going to be like Emma,” Gav said quietly.
Gav had met Emma a few times. He’d advised me to stay away from her, saying there was something off about her, which I’d ignored. And after all the shit went down with her—after she’d nearly cost me my job—he’d kept my glass topped off and just listened to me talk, then let me crash on his sofa. He was a good friend, never saying “I told you so” when that relationship had gone to hell.
“Sorry, Ror,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to butt in or to bring up Emma. I just know she did a number on you and that you haven’t really let anyone get close to you since then.”
“I haven’t been completely alone since Emma, you know.” I might not be like Tommy, with a lass in half the towns we passed through on our treks, but I wasn’t a total monk, either.
He nodded. “Aye, I know. You’ve been with a few lasses here and there. But you haven’t let anyone get close to you. As in the man, and not just the warm body,” he added with a waggle of his eyebrows.
I lunged for him, but he jumped back out of reach. “Seriously, man,” he said, all traces of humor gone. “You haven’t.”
I sighed. “Amelia has already gotten closer to me—the man—than anyone else has in…ever. She was also close to me—the warm body—when she nearly froze to death on the trail today.” And after. “But she’s not the kind of lass you walk away from after a few days. And I can’t have anything more than that, not with Amelia. She and I are just sharing a room for the night, and that’s it.”
And how in the hell is that going to go, exactly?
Gav pulled down two short glasses and poured a splash of Talisker Storm into each. “On me,” he said, sliding one my way and picking up the other.
“Slàinte,” I said, holding up the glass. He repeated the toast and we drank. The peaty whisky was like an old friend, its comforting warmth spreading through me.
The bar started to get busy, as it always did in the evenings. I ordered a Magner’s cider and nursed it, chatting with Gav every now and then when he had a quiet moment, but otherwise keeping to myself.
I texted Scarlet to let her know where we were and that Amelia was holding up okay. Then I texted Tommy.
At Sligachan. Amelia’s doing okay. BTW, Gav thinks I stayed behind “because of a pretty lass,” so thx for that. You know he’ll never drop it.
Tommy’s response came a few minutes later.
Hey man, I just said you’d stayed behind to help a lass who got injured. He asked if she was pretty—was I supposed to lie?
Whatever. All good with the group?
At Elgol now—about to meet for dinner. The cliffs were really shitty after that rain today, so be careful when you get there.
Thx. Will take it slow.
You staying at the bunkhouse?
Shit. I could lie and say yes, but there was no way Tommy wouldn’t find out from Gav.
The bunkhouse was booked. Got the last avail room at hotel.
You’re sharing with Amelia? Dude.
I told her I’d camp, but she insisted. We can handle it.
If we didn’t kill each other first.
Can’t wait to hear ALL about it.
Bugger off.
:) Take it easy, and maybe even try to have fun?
Bye, Tommy.
I set aside my phone and stared into my glass, my thoughts drifting back to Amelia. How could she think I wasn’t interested in her? How could she not know that I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath?
Tommy—and Gav, too—would tell me to stop overthinking, to just enjoy a short hookup with Amelia if she was up for it, and then say goodbye when the trek was over.
But honestly, I didn’t want that. Not with her. I’d already let her get closer to me than anyone had in a long time, and if we took it further, I’d be that much more wrecked when she left. And I couldn’t go through that again.
I glanced at my phone. It had been nearly an hour since I’d left Amelia in the room. I drained my cider and bumped fists with Gav. “See you in a few.” Even if Amelia was still mad at me, I didn’t think she’d pass on a hot meal that didn’t come out of a bag.
I reached the room and tapped lightly on the door. “Amelia, can I come in?”
“Yeah,” came her muffled voice.
I inserted my key in the slot and pushed open the door. Amelia sat on the edge of the bed in the jeans and black top she’d worn that first night. Her hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves, and she looked—utterly defeated, her phone dangling limply from her hand. Oh no. I closed the door behind me and strode to the bed. “Is it Carrie?”
She shook her head. “No.” Thank God. “But I thought—”
I hesitated a moment, then dropped down beside her and took her hand. “What did you think, love?”
The endearment just slipped out, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because I didn’t get a glare. Then she looked up at me, her chocolate-brown eyes shining with unshed tears, and all I could think was that I wished she’d glared at me, because her anger was better than the sadness that was there now.
“I guess I just hoped that when I turned on my phone after two days, there’d be a message that Carrie had woken up, or at the very least, there’d be some good news about her condition. But there’s nothing—no missed calls, no messages, nothing. It’s stupid, I know. But I just hoped—”
Her voice broke, and I reached for her. I expected her to resist after our earlier argument, but she turned in to my arms. I ran my hand down the smooth length of her hair, offering the only comfort I could, knowing it wasn’t enough. She let out a few shuddering breaths but was otherwise quiet.
After a few minutes, she pulled back and sat up. Her eyes were a little red, a little damp. But she was still so damn beautiful. More than ever, I wished things could be different between us.
“While we’re on the trail, it’s easy enough to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and clearing my mind of everything else, you know?” She looked down at her hands. “But then at the end of the day, I have time to think and it just…”
Her voice trailed off, but I knew. “It crushes down on you like a lead weight.”
Her eyes met mine. “Yes.”
“Listen, you can’t give up hope. Remember, no news is good news. Maybe Carrie hasn’t taken a turn for the better, but at least she hasn’t taken a turn for the worse.”
“I know. And I haven’t given up. I just had a moment, you know?”
“I do know. Believe me.”
She didn’t say anything more, didn’t ask me how I knew what she meant. Telling her wouldn’t make her feel better, anyway.
I got to my feet. “I think it’s almost time for a drink, don’t you?”
“God, yes.”
“I’m going to grab a quick shower, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
She smiled. “I might even have left you some hot water.” It was a small smile, and it didn’t quite reach her eyes, but after her tears, it was like seeing the sun.
I grabbed a change of clothes from my pack and headed for the bathroom door.
“Rory?”
I turned back. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for listening.”
“I’ll always listen, Amelia. No matter what’s going on between us, I will always listen when you need me. Okay?”
She smiled for real this time, and I smiled back. “I won’t be long in the shower, and then we can go to the bar and get dinner.”
“You had me at bar. Take your time. I’ll be here when you get out.”
I did take my time, as it turned out. The hot water felt amazing after the cold misery of the day’s walk, and I just stood there for a few minutes, my head bowed under the spray, enjoying the feel of the water cascading down my tired body.
It felt weirdly intimate to use the shower after Amelia. The bathroom was still steamy when I’d stepped inside. It smelled like her shampoo and some kind of lotion. I washed my hair, then lathered up my hands and started to scrub away the grime of the day. I tried not to picture Amelia doing the same thing just a few minutes earlier, tried not to imagine her hands sliding all over her wet body. Tried not to imagine my hands sliding all over her wet body.
No. Stop. What kind of a creep was I for lusting after her when she’d just been crying over Carrie? Amelia needed a friend, and I would be that friend—if she wanted me to.
And that was all.
Sighing, I turned the water to cold—as far as it could go. So much for the relaxing shower.