Curve Appeal E-Book

Lucy Felthouse

• Herausgeber: Lucy Felthouse
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

An exciting opportunity could solve all Brianna's problems. But will it ultimately create more?

Brianna Denton is a primary school teacher at the end of her tether. Budget cuts, changes in legislation and a pandemic have left her feeling like walking away from the only career she's ever wanted. The trouble is, if she did quit, what would she do next? Living in London is expensive, and keeping on top of her rent and bills while retraining would be nigh-on impossible. An offer to move in with her best friend, Joel Harris, is appreciated, but feels way too much like charity for her liking.

But then Joel throws her a curveball. On a complete whim, he's bought a fixer-upper cottage on a remote Scottish island. He wants to transform it into an uber-luxury holiday home and rent it out. To do that, however, he needs a skilled, reliable workforce and a project manager to keep things running smoothly. A visit to the island in question provides as many questions as answers, but one thing becomes clear - Brianna is the perfect woman for the job. She's smart, organised, works well under duress, and if she can handle a classroom full of young children, surely a bunch of skilled tradesmen won't be a problem. Working and living in such a stunning setting is a massive plus point, too.

Brianna takes a leap of faith, leaving her home and beloved career behind to help turn Joel's dream into a reality. It's a steep learning curve, but Brianna is definitely up for the challenge. But when working relationships develop into something more, will it bring the entire project crashing down around her ears, or is it simply the beginning of a whole new life?

Curve Appeal is a standalone contemporary reverse harem/why choose romance.

Leseprobe

Curve Appeal

By Lucy Felthouse

Text Copyright 2023 © Lucy Felthouse.

All Rights Reserved.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the aforementioned author.This book was created without the use of AI. Scanning by AI for training purposes or derivative works is strictly prohibited.

Warning: The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s written permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Epilogue

About the Author

If You Enjoyed Curve Appeal

Chapter One

Brianna smiled as she caught sight of Joel, already waiting for her outside the pub. His job as a high-flying London City banker meant he put in some insane hours at work, but he ensured he was always available and on time for their last-Friday-of-the-month meet up at their favourite Thames-side establishment. Not only was it a lovely place, but the location was perfect for them both—it was just far away enough from Joel’s work it was unlikely he’d bump into any colleagues, and close enough to the primary school Brianna taught in that she could tie up any loose ends and scurry the short distance to meet her friend in no time at all. Today she’d had quite a few loose ends, which always seemed to be the way lately, and was a few minutes later than she’d planned, so was scurrying more quickly than usual, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than necessary.

He hadn’t spotted her yet—he was leaning against the wall, one expensively-shod foot propped up on the bricks behind him, his head tilted up to the early spring sunshine, which even this late in the day was surprisingly strong and picked up the few lighter strands in his dark hair. He’d removed his tie—knowing him, the moment he set foot outside his office building—the end of which poked from the pocket of his black trousers, and rolled up the cuffs of his subtly-patterned shirt to expose most of his forearms. The look was casual, relaxed. Handsome.

In a parallel universe, she and Joel might be a couple, off travelling the world together, or perhaps married and getting ready to settle down and have a couple of kids. Maybe they’d have started early and had the kids already. And a dog.

In this universe, however, they were best friends—had been since their first day of senior school at the tender age of eleven. And while Brianna thought Joel handsome, it was in an impartial, stating a fact way. She wasn’t attracted to him, and it wouldn’t have made a difference if she was, because in this universe, Joel was as gay as they came—a fact she hadn’t realised she’d already known, until at eighteen he’d sat her down, his expression serious, and said he had something to tell her.

Her heart had pounded, and a sick feeling had taken over her stomach. Thoughts started racing through her head—was one of his parents ill? Was he ill? Was he moving away? Unable to cope with the internal onslaught of negativity any longer, she’d said, “For Christ’s sake, Joel, spill the beans, would you? You’re freaking me the fuck out.”

His seriousness had morphed briefly to annoyance, then resignation. He’d taken in and released a deep breath, then, “Bree, I wanted you to be the first to know… I’m gay.”

A sound somewhere between a squeak and a giggle had escaped her lips before she could stop it. She’d clapped her hand over her mouth for a second, then removed it and burst out with “Oh, you idiot!” before landing a playful slap on his arm. “Is that all? I thought you were going to say something bad. That something terrible was going on. Thank God.”

Joel had frowned. “So you… don’t mind?” He’d paused, narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem surprised.”

She’d shaken her head. “Of course I don’t mind. Why the hell would I mind? I’m not a homophobe. If blokes float your boat, so be it. As long as you’re happy, I couldn’t give a toss. And, for the record…” it had been her turn to pause, “I think I’ve known for years.” She nodded as long-forgotten jigsaw pieces began slotting together in her head, then shrugged. “Yeah. I have. Years.”

And now, twenty years later, their friendship had endured—flourished, even. Weathered storms, and basked in sunlight—much as Joel continued to do as she grew closer. Her smile widened, and she was glad she had on flat shoes—not only did it make both her job and the short walk from the school easier, it also meant she had a good chance of creeping up on Joel, maybe scaring the shit out of him as he sunned himself. They might be approaching forty, but when they were together, they often acted as immature and idiotic as they had when they’d first met. Yes, they were getting older, but they sure as shit weren’t growing up.

Respective partners had come and gone, most of them never able to comprehend, much less tolerate, hers and Joel’s unique friendship, but as their jobs, and other friends and family kept them busy and fulfilled, singledom had never particularly concerned either of them. As far as she was concerned, at least, what would be, would be.

She enjoyed the sunshine on her skin as she closed the gap between them, then held her breath as she came within a couple of metres of Joel before flinging herself forward and grabbing onto his nearest finely-muscled arm. “Gotcha!”

He yelped, jumped, snatched his arm away and opened his eyes in a hilarious sequence, then clutched his chest and gave her a good-natured glare, his blue eyes glinting. “Fuck’s sake, Bree! You’re lucky I didn’t swing for you, then. I thought someone was trying to rob me.”

“That’ll teach you to wear ludicrously expensive watches,” she replied with a snicker.

He glanced wryly at his Patek Philippe, then looked back at her with a grin. “Touché. Come on,” he turned around, slipped his arm through hers and led her into the relative gloom of the pub, “for that twattishness, first drink’s on you.”

She couldn’t argue with that reasoning. It was still worth it, though, to see the look of pure panic cross his face. She stifled further giggles, not wanting to inspire her friend to order the most expensive drink he could think of, purely to get his own back. While top of the range watches were easily within his budget, she’d had to save up for a mid-range Fitbit.

A few minutes later, with drinks in hand, they sat down at a table on the terrace overlooking the river and took simultaneous sips of their chosen beverages. Brianna swallowed the mouthful of chilled white wine, then, without meaning to, let out a long, contented sigh.

Joel raised an eyebrow as he swigged his beer, then said, “Sounds as though you needed that. Tough week?”

“Hmm. You could say that.” She fidgeted in her seat, getting the uncomfortable inkling she’d opened a can of worms she’d have preferred was left undisturbed.

“Oh?” His other eyebrow jumped up to join the first. “Do tell.”

She stared out over the river, screwed up her nose and wafted a hand in his vague direction. “No, no, it’s work stuff. Boring, really. Not worth talking about.”

“Bree.” He grabbed her hand, drawing her attention to his face. His expression was earnest, his gaze intense. “Maybe it is boring, but it’s clearly bothering you, so I want to know about it. I’m your best friend, remember? If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

She squeezed his hand, then pulled hers away, picked up her glass and took a gulp. Swallowed, then groaned. There was no putting the lid back on the can—she might as well come out with it. “Oh, all right. It’s just… I don’t know… I think I’m getting a bit fed up of teaching.”

Joel spluttered into his pint, drawing querying glances from a few of the people at tables adjacent to theirs. Ignoring them, Joel put his drink down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gaped at her as though she’d grown a second head. “What? But you… you love teaching!”

Nodding sadly, she replied, “I do. The teaching part. The kids. But the rest; the planning, the admin, the assessing, the being assessed, being micromanaged, dealing with parents, the endless fucking meetings, the meetings about meetings, the meetings that could have been an email… it’s getting on top of me. It wasn’t too bad before—the joy of being in the classroom far outweighed the rest, but since the pandemic, the shambles that is bloody Brexit and the subsequent government fuckery, things have become steadily worse. Rules being changed, goalposts moving, budgets being squeezed, funding getting cut, costs going up. We’re expected to work more and more hours for the same amount of pay, with fewer support staff, yet still uphold the same insanely high standards and have enough energy and spark to engage and teach a class of primary school kids! It’s becoming completely untenable. And the strike action hasn’t exactly been stress free.”

Joel gave her a sympathetic smile. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better. Why haven’t you mentioned this before now?”

She shrugged. “No point. All the decisions are way above my pay grade, so there’s nothing I can do. I’ve just been soldiering on, hoping things will improve. But right now, I honestly can’t see an end in sight. We’re human beings, not robots, and we’re being treated like shit. We’ve come a long way from being lauded as keyworkers, that’s for bloody certain.” She rolled her lips inward, bit down on them, wondering whether she should let the words on the tip of her tongue come out. She’d barely admitted it to herself, much less anyone else. But this was Joel. He’d have her back no matter what she said.

She took a deep breath, huffed it out again, then looked him in the eye. “I’m thinking of jacking it in at the end of term.”

Joel’s eyebrows again leapt towards his artfully-coiffed hairline and his eyes widened. She was certainly giving his facial muscles a workout. “Jacking it in? But… to do what? All you’ve ever wanted to do is teach.”

She gave a closed-mouth smile. “And therein lies the rub. I don’t have the means to retrain—even if I got some kind of loan or grant for a course or whatever, I still have rent and bills to pay, food to buy. And of course this stupid cost of living crisis means all of that is getting more expensive. My savings are practically non-existent. I mean, maybe I could get a job with more flexible hours to work around my studying—in a pub, or a shop, maybe—but would the pay be enough to keep my head above water while I studied? And would I even have the energy, the brain power, to juggle the two? If I was so knackered I made a total mess of any exams or coursework, then the whole thing would be pointless, wouldn’t it? And all that’s assuming I even figured out what course I wanted to do. Right now, I’m drawing a big, fat blank.” She let out a growl of frustration and bared her teeth. “Why can’t I be more like Cara? She’s off swanning around in… Prague or something, without a care in the fucking world. Having the time of her life, by all accounts.” She sat back heavily in her chair and crossed her arms. “So much so she couldn’t even be arsed to come home for Mum’s birthday. I mean, it’s central Europe, for Christ’s sake—not New fucking Zealand.”

With a roll of his eyes, Joel replied, “This isn’t about your sister. Fuck her. This is about you. I want you to be happy, and if your job isn’t doing it for you anymore, and you can’t find a way to change that situation, then maybe resigning is the best thing. You know I’ve got your back, one thousand percent.”

She snort-laughed. “You’d think a man who gets to play around with as much money as you do would be better at maths. Even my pupils can do percentages.”

He stuck his middle finger up at her. “Fuck off. I’m just saying, if you need to come stay with me for a while, you’re more than welcome. There’s plenty of room. And before you start coming up with excuses or waffling on about charity,” he held up a hand to stop her talking back, “just think about it, all right? We work too many hours of our lives to be miserable in our jobs. I’m lucky—I love my job, and they pay me a frankly ridiculous amount of money to do it. I’m more than happy to help you out for a bit while you get things figured out. So, I’m going to leave that with you. Consider the subject closed for now, okay? I don’t want to hear another word about it for,” he creased his brow thoughtfully, “at least three days. Now… do you want to hear my news?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned widely.

With a great amount of effort, she pushed all her protestations at his offer aside. “Do bears shit in the woods?” She hadn’t known he had any news, so it was doubly exciting.

“I…” he paused, clearly for dramatic effect, and pressed his hand to his chest, “have bought a cottage. A fixer-upper. On a remote Scottish island.”

Brianna stared at her friend, processing his words, then narrowed her eyes. Despite the grin still on his face, she had the funniest feeling he wasn’t joking. “You’ve done what now?” she breathed, then swiped at her glass and took another sip. She shook her head. “Are you serious?”

His expression sobered. “Deadly. Why? Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know what I think right now. Of all the things I guessed might come out of your mouth, that wasn’t one of them.” She blinked, feeling somewhat dizzy as thoughts whizzed around her brain like a swarm of hyperactive flies. “I just… I have so many questions.”

Joel spread his hands. “Ask away. I’ve got all evening.”

“Why? How? When? And again, why?”

“Bloody hell. I wasn’t expecting rapid fire—and knowing you, this is just the beginning. Okay.” He took a deep breath, then began checking things off on his fingers as he spoke. “Why: because the opportunity arose and I thought it’d be a good investment. How: with money. When: this afternoon, actually. I found out at lunchtime my offer had been accepted.”

“How long has this been in the pipeline?”

He glanced at the river for a moment, watching a passenger boat sail past, then back to her. Sheepishly, he replied, “Since yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Now the folks on the nearby tables were giving her the side-eye. “You mean you haven’t even seenthis place?”

“I’ve seen photos,” he said defensively, folding his arms. “And videos. The estate agency was very thorough. They have to be when it comes to places like that—not everyone is in a position to drop everything and head to a remote island for a viewing. This way they increase their chances of inviting plenty of bids, driving the price up, making themselves a higher commission and the seller more money.”

She laid her hands flat on the table and focussed on the scarred wooden surface in an attempt to take things down a notch. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you’ve spent God knows how many thousands of pounds on a property in the arse end of nowhere, a property you’ve only seen in photos and videos?” She peered up at him. “It might not even be fucking real! You could have bought fresh air!” Whoops. So much for taking it down a notch.

“Of course it’s fucking real,” Joel snapped. “I haven’t been dealing with some random person on Facebook. It’s all been done through a bona fide estate agent, and financially and legally through all the proper channels.” He blew out a breath through his nostrils and shot her a glare. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I…” She shook her head in disbelief, then said firmly, “I am happy for you. I’m just shocked, that’s all. It’s a huge deal, and it’s so sudden. I didn’t even know you were looking to invest in property.”

“Nor did I. Like I said, the opportunity came up, and it seemed like a good one. From what I can tell, the place needs a lot of work, but it was priced accordingly.”

“From what I can tell,” she parroted, still shaking her head. “Joel, you know I love you, but you realise this is completely mental, right? Not the buying the property part—not even the bit about it being a fixer-upper. But you haven’t even set foot in the place! The estate agent’s photos and videos are surely designed to highlight the property’s more favourable features, to make people want to buy it. They’re not going to have highlighted leaking pipes, dodgy wiring and holes in the roof, are they? It could be an absolute money pit.”

Joel nodded. “It could. But the estate agency and the seller seem to have been very thorough and above board. The last thing they want is some irate buyer on the phone—”

“A buyer who surely wouldn’t have a leg to stand on once the sale had gone through? I don’t mean to sound like a nag, but shouldn’t you at least see the place before contracts are signed? I’m concerned for you, that’s all. I don’t want you to get screwed over.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again before sagging in his seat. He downed the rest of his beer, put the glass on the table, then said, “You’re right. Of course you’re right. If the roles were reversed I’d be saying the exact same thing to you. I just… the price was so good, the location is great,and I got swept up in the excitement of it all, I guess. I’ll arrange a trip up there, book a flight and…” He tailed off, his sober expression lighting up once more as he looked at her. “Scratch that. I’m booking two flights. You’re coming with me!”

Chapter Two

Fear and excitement bubbled inside Brianna in equal measure as the small, motor-powered boat cut through the waves, bringing them ever closer to their destination. It had been one hell of a journey, comprising of a regular commercial flight from London to Glasgow; another flight, this time on a miniscule plane, followed by a taxi ride to a port, a ferry crossing, and finally this tiny vessel, which would apparently deliver them right to the property’s own private beach.

But then, wasn’t everything pretty damn private on such a remote island? Or did the lack of people mean those who were there knew each other’s business by default?

She glanced over at Joel, who appeared to be having a wonderful time. He sat up meerkat-straight in his seat, despite the bobbing of the boat, his gaze fixed firmly on the island they were approaching, presumably eager to catch the first glimpse of his cottage, and his smile reached from ear to ear, the edges almost disappearing into the woolly hat he’d jammed on to his head.

Honestly, she couldn’t blame him for the hat. It was April, they were on the sea off the west coast of Scotland, and it was windy. She had a bandana-type thing with her, but it was in the depths of her suitcase and therefore pretty much impossible to get hold of right now. She just had to put up with her hair flying wildly around, getting into her eyes and whipping her chilly face. But the sun was shining, the sky was bluer than she thought she’d ever seen it, and the views all around them—when she could see past her hair—were spectacular. Birds wheeled overhead, squawking and crying out, and not long ago she thought she’d caught sight of a seal. But she hadn’t been sure, and whatever it was had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, so she’d kept quiet. She’d have only given herself a sore throat trying to make herself heard over the wind, the waves, and the roar of the engine, in any case. Better to simply sit and soak it all in, hoping it would continue to distract her from her nervousness at the mode of transport.

After their conversation in the pub, and Joel’s idea of bringing her along on the trip, things had moved fast. Joel had decided to take advantage of the fact Brianna would be off work for the Easter half-term, and managed to wangle himself some last-minute vacation time. That sorted, he’d gone into a frenzy of researching and booking, and she’d been swept along on the tide of his enthusiasm, unable to come up with even the weakest of excuses for not going with him—particularly since he’d insisted on paying for everything. She wasn’t at all comfortable with that, either, but figured maybe the break woulddo her good. Some relaxation and a change of scenery would help clear her head, and perhaps she’d return to work feeling differently about everything. Energised and in love with her job once more, ready to shape those young minds and fill them full of valuable knowledge. She could hope.

But first, she had to do the relaxing bit. And she wasn’t sure that would be possible until she got herself off the bloody boat and onto dry land. Fortunately, it looked as though that was in her very near future. They rounded a dramatic, rocky headland and suddenly a building hove into view. She squinted, thought she recognised it from the photos she’d seen, and a peek at Joel confirmed her suspicions. This was it—Joel’s spur of the moment property purchase. To be turned, apparently, into a high-end self-catering escape for anyone with the funds.

Not to mention a strong stomach. Boat was the only way of reaching the cottage, and this was the Atlantic Ocean, after all. Rolling waves aside, it might look idyllic now—in fact, they could almost be pootling about the Mediterranean—but she was sure it looked incredibly different in less favourable weather conditions. There were no doubt times when the journey wasn’t even possible. It would be too dangerous.

Still, that wasn’t her concern. She was here, now, and the weather was glorious. The excitement started to win over the fear as their destination loomed larger, and further details became visible. The jutting cliffs behind the cottage, the shingle beach in front of it, the neat, drystone wall surrounding it. The building itself seemed to be in pretty good condition—despite the photographs and videos, she’d half-expected to arrive to find Joel had, in fact, bought a crumbling, roofless hovel—so the sturdy-looking, whitewashed building was a pleasant surprise. She heaved an internal sigh of relief for her friend and peered over again to see him looking happier still. Perhaps he’d been secretly worried, too.

They’d slowed, and were approaching the private jetty when, to her surprise, the front door of the cottage swung open and a hulking man appeared, dressed in jeans and a checked shirt. Not exactly estate agent attire. She gasped and looked at Joel, only to find he didn’t appear remotely concerned. He turned to her with a smile. “The welcome party.” When her only response was a frown, he elaborated, “Well, we needed to get in somehow, didn’t we? Rather than bothering the estate agency, the owners asked a local to come and let us in, lend us the spare set of keys. I think it might even be the same bloke who’s been looking in on the place from time to time, making sure everything’s okay.”

Brianna snickered. “Have big problems with burglaries around here, do they?”

“Of course not.” Joel tutted and rolled his eyes. “But they do have inclement weather. Left too long out here, a loose roof tile could cause untold damage, and since the owners can’t check for themselves…”

“Yeah, all right. I get it. How come they can’t check for themselves, anyway? Where are they?”

“Health issues. I don’t know all the details, didn’t want to ask, but it’s a couple, and the husband is ill, so they’ve been staying on the mainland to be near medical facilities. I think they’d hoped it would be temporary, but it seems things aren’t looking good for him, so they decided to sell up. It was probably getting to be too much for them anyway, looking after the place and living somewhere so remote, but this has forced their hand.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. But it’s good they got a quick sale, then. It must have been a weight off their minds.”

Drawing up alongside the jetty paused their conversation. Their skipper, a quiet, stoic man called Donal, skilfully manoeuvred the vessel into the required position, cut the engine, then leapt onto the wooden planks and secured the ropes. Then he waited as she and Joel got to their feet, wobbling like new-born lambs as they got used to the motion of the otherwise stationary boat, and held out a grizzled hand to help each of them in turn.

Once they were safely ashore, he jerked his head towards the cottage. “Go on. I’ll bring yer bags.”

Brianna glanced doubtfully at her bright pink suitcase, a vision of it ending up in the ocean flashing into her mind. But it’d be rude to refuse—and besides, she certainly didn’t want to attempt to get it herself. She clutched the strap of the much smaller bag slung across her body, which contained the usual essentials, and smiled at Donal. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.”

He shrugged. “Nae bother.” It seemed the conversation, such as it had been, was over, as he turned away, then hopped back onto the boat.

“Come on,” Joel said, flinging an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze, “let’s go and see my cottage. My. Fucking. Cottage. Or it will be soon, anyway. Can you believe it?” He turned his head and called “Thanks, Donal,” before they walked along the jetty, towards the building. The planks of the jetty ended, only to be replaced by a similar wooden walkway leading across the rocky beach.

They followed it right up to a rickety wooden gate which did a half-arsed job of filling a gap in the drystone wall. Though what the gate was keeping out—or in—was anyone’s guess. As she was looking around, Brianna noticed the lack of any kind of vehicular access. She’d known boat was the only way to get to the island, but what about travelling aroundonce you were here?

“What’s the matter?” Joel asked, clocking her hesitation.

“Er… aren’t there any roads?”

He shook his head. “Not really. There are… farm tracks, I suppose you’d call them, but everyone here gets around either by quad bike, push bike, or on foot. Maybe the odd horse.”

Brianna stared at her friend, waiting for him to burst out laughing and give her a playful shove. It didn’t happen.

Instead, he stared back, his eyebrows lifting. “What? What didn’t you understand about remote island? Only accessible by boat?”

She frowned. “But… how do people live here? Get to the shops? The post office?”

“They dinnae,” a gruff voice interrupted from the direction of the cottage. They turned to see the man who’d come out of the front door approaching them. He looked around their age and seemed totally at home in his surroundings. He opened the gate and held it for them, then for Donal, who’d come up behind them without them noticing—apparently having carried their cases, rather than wheeling them. Perhaps the pink suitcase had been enough of an insult to his masculinity, without adding the use of wheels, too.

Joel pulled Brianna to one side to let Donal pass and take their stuff inside. She watched as he was swallowed into the shadows of the building, then shifted her attention back to checked-shirt guy, who closed the gate—which seemed a pointless gesture, maybe just habit—and came over to them, hand stretched out towards Joel. “Hello. I’m Niall. Pleased tae meet ye.”

Her friend took the proffered hand and shook it. “Hi, Niall. I’m Joel—the buyer. And this is my friend, Brianna. She’s keeping me company.”

Niall released Joel’s hand and scooped up Brianna’s. She wasn’t a small woman, in any sense of the word, but her hand seemed tiny against his. Fortunately he didn’t crush it in his mighty grip. “Hi, Niall,” she squeaked out, trying not to notice how good-looking he was and failing dismally, “it’s lovely to meet you. And, er, what did you mean when you said they don’t?”

He let go of her, then leaned back against the wall of the cottage—which, now they were up close, she could see desperately needed a lick of paint—and folded his arms. His very muscular arms. She gulped. Just then, her brain supplied the useful information her hair probably resembled a bird’s nest, thanks to the boat ride. She began scraping surreptitiously at the strands, both mortified and relieved she couldn’t see her reflection.

Donal reappeared and stood beside Niall. She gratefully averted her eyes towards the older man for a moment, then back to Niall as he continued, “They dinnae go tae shops or the post office, because there arenae any tae go tae. Everything is done by boat here—that’s why the properties have their own jetties, direct access tae the sea.”

She turned and looked at the wooden walkway they’d just used with new eyes. It wasn’t there for convenience, so city-dwellers such as themselves didn’t have to pick their way across the rocky beach and risk turning an ankle. It was for necessity. If everything came in via boat, and on a regular basis, then it needed to be easy, efficient. As she swung her head back around and took in the cottage, a thought occurred to her. It wouldn’t just be about getting correspondence, food, and other essentials here. It would be buildingmaterials, too! Decorating stuff. Furniture. Anything that was needed to make Joel’s “fixer-upper” into the uber-luxury retreat he had planned would have to come via that jetty and wooden walkway. From packs of screws to tins of paint, to bricks, timber, plasterboard, carpets, beds, mattresses, wardrobes…

She blinked. “Oh.” Shook her head. “Of course.” Frowned. The boat they’d arrived in was the only one moored up at the jetty. “So… how did you get here, then?”

Niall jerked his head vaguely off to his right. “Walked, didn’t I.” It wasn’t a question.

“Y-you livehere?”

“Of course he does,” Joel interjected, giving her a warning glance that said calm your tits, woman. “I said he was a local, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but…” She grinned sheepishly at all three men, before shrugging. “It’s all relative, isn’t it?”

Donal snorted. “Ye mean, ye thought ‘local’ meant Scotland in general? Like it’s the size of a wee postage stamp? Not the case, lassie. Anyway, I’ve got a home tae get tae, and it certainly isnae within walking distance, so I’ll be off now.” He looked at Joel. “Dinnae forget tae send yer list of supplies as soon as ye ken what ye need, will ye? Remember, ye’ve absolutely got tae plan ahead. There’s no popping tae a Tesco Metro, or whatever ye have on every corner down in London, whenever ye need or want something. When it comes tae supplies, there’s no such thing as spontaneity in a place like this. And if ye run out of something, it’s not as simple as going next door tae borrow from yer neighbour. Not when ‘next door’ is a mile and a half away. Right, Niall?”

“Absolutely.” Niall lifted and dropped his shoulders. “That’s not tae say yer neighbour wouldnae lend ye something, because we look out fer each other in these parts—just that ye’d have tae put a fair bit of effort in tae go and get what ye need. Much better, like Donal says, tae plan ahead. Though dinnae panic, I have left ye wi’ a few bits and pieces tae tide ye over until yer delivery arrives. Ye willnae starve or die o’ thirst.”

Joel nodded. “Great, thank you. Information received and understood. As soon as we’re unpacked and settled in, I’ll ensure my next job is to make a list and get it over to you, Donal.” He paused, paled, then scrabbled for his phone. Holding it in front of him and stabbing at the screen, he said, “I-I will have some kind of phone signal, right?”

The other two men exchanged a look, then Niall turned his attention back to Joel and smiled. “Dinnae fash, man. This place might be a wee bit… rustic, shall we say, but it’s watertight, warm, has all the basic facilities, plus a decent WiFi connection. Ye’ll be just fine.” He shifted his gaze to Brianna and quirked an eyebrow. “Fer a wee while, anyway.”

Before Brianna had chance to protest, or ask exactly what he’d meant by that, Donal said, “Right then, now that’s sorted, I’ll be off. Enjoy yerselves, and I’ll see ye tomorrow. Bye, Niall.”

“See ye, pal.”

“Thank you, Donal,” Joel said. “Much appreciated.”

“Yes,” Brianna added, “thank you.”

The older man gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, then spun on his heel, left the garden, closed the rickety gate behind him, then clomped across the boards in the direction of the jetty and his boat.

Niall cleared his throat, bringing their gazes back to him. “Okay, well, shall we get ye situated so I can be heading home, too?”

“Of course,” Joel replied, then indicated Niall should go on ahead of them, “please, lead the way.”

As Niall headed into the cottage, Joel’s expression displayed a mixture of excitement and terror. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Time to see what the fuck I’m about to take on.”

She squeezed back and gave him an encouraging smile—though secretly she was just as nervous as he was. “Whatever it is, you can handle it. I haven’t been best friends with an idiot all these years, have I?” She chuckled. “Not in the intelligence sense, anyway. I mean, you’re a total twat at times, but you’re not thick.”

Joel flashed her a pointed look. “Pot. Kettle. Now shut up and get your smart-arsed self inside that cottage. It’s not fair to keep Niall hanging around any longer than necessary. He’s already doing me a huge favour.”

It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be sorry to see him go. But, as the saying went, she’d certainly enjoy watching him leave.

Chapter Three

Brianna and Joel stepped through the front door—also in need of painting, if not complete replacement—and into a large but somewhat gloomy hallway, each of them wiping their feet on the doormat on their way. Brianna’s heart sank. If it was gloomy in here when the sun was shining outside, what was it like on a cloudy day?

She hurriedly pushed the negative thought aside and focussed on her surroundings. The place was actually beautiful—all beams, traditional wood doors and doorframes, a lovely old-fashioned staircase with chunky treads and handrails, and slate-tiled floor. Five doors led off the space. The nearest one to them was so close to the next that it had to be a cloakroom. She glanced questioningly over at Joel, who snapped himself out of staring around and nodded at her. “Go on—have a look.”

Niall cleared his throat before Brianna could reach for the door handle. “If it’s all right wi’ the pair o’ ye, I’ll just give ye a quick rundown, then I’ll head off and leave ye tae explore fer yerselves.”

“Of course,” Joel replied. “We don’t want to keep you any longer. Go for it.”

Pointing to each door as he spoke, he reeled off, “Cloakroom, kitchen, mudroom, living room. The boiler is on and working, so ye’ve got hot water and heating. Heating controls are on the upstairs landing, and each radiator has its own thermostat, too. There are a few bits and bobs tae get ye started in the kitchen. Everything ye need tae light a fire in the living room. Extra logs in the store outside. Upstairs, ye’ve got the bathroom, two large bedrooms, a smaller bedroom, and a storage closet. Far as I know, everything’s in working order, but ye’ll find spare light bulbs in the utility room off the kitchen, should ye need them. Torches in the cloakroom and storage closet, fresh batteries in the same place as the bulbs, just in case. Er…” He paused, squinted, as if casting around for a thought, then snapped his fingers. “Oh aye—that was it. They asked me tae tell ye the hot water tae the bathroom can be a bit slow tae get going, since the boiler’s a long way away, but just be patient and it’ll be wi’ ye as soon as it can. I think that’s it. Do ye have any questions?”

“Only: have you got the keys, please?” Joel said with a smile.

“O’ course.” He delved into the pocket of his well-worn jeans, the movement pulling them down a little to reveal a tantalising slice of his abdomen. Brianna dragged her gaze back up to his bearded face before she got caught staring. Hopefully the heat in her cheeks wasn’t apparent to the two men—though it blazed so hot there was a chance it was burning them as well as her.

He slapped the bundle of keys jovially into Joel’s outstretched hand. “Keys fer every mortal thing on there. Front door, back door, mudroom door, all the windows, the sheds… ye get the drift. All labelled, so ye ken what’s what. I’ve left my number wi’ the stuff in the kitchen in case ye need anything. Landline, because mobile reception can be spotty. But the landline here is still connected, so ye can use that, nae bother. The WiFi password is on the back o’ the router, which is in the living room. As I’m sure ye ken already, there’s the bare minimum o’ furniture, so ye’ll be comfortable enough, but there’s no’ much else. Clean sheets on the two double beds, fresh towels in the bathroom. Spares in the closet upstairs. Now, I really think that’s it.”

Joel chuckled. “Thanks so much, Niall. I really appreciate you putting yourself out like this.”

The men shook hands, then Niall shrugged. “Like I said before, we look after each other out here. The MacLeods are good friends of my family, have been fer decades, so it’s the least I can do. And, if yer going tae be my new neighbour, then the same courtesy will extend tae ye, too. It’s just the way things are here. Ye’ll soon get used tae it.”

Brianna frowned. New neighbour? Didn’t Niall know what the intention was for the property? If everything went to plan, Niall wouldn’t be getting one new neighbour, he’d be getting a succession of them. She decided to keep her mouth firmly shut, and quickly arranged her face into a polite expression as Niall turned to her and shook her hand, too. “Thanks, Niall.” She beamed, even as tingles of awareness spread from her hand along her arm. At this rate, spontaneous combustion could be in her near future.

“Remember,” he said, releasing her and striding out of the front door, throwing over his shoulder, “ye’ve got my number if ye need anything. And, fer Christ’s sake, dinnae forget tae send Donal that list!”

Shaking his head bemusedly, Joel closed the door behind Niall, then turned to Brianna. “God, I feel like half that information went in one ear and out the other. What with the excitement, his accent, and how fucking gorgeous he is, I couldn’t concentrate properly.”

“Oh, you noticed, did you?” she said dryly.

Joel cocked an eyebrow, one side of his mouth twitched up in a smirk. “You certainly did. You blushed like a bloody schoolgirl when he first spoke to you. And when he flashed his abs, I thought you were going to faint.”

“Oh, fuck off, you.” She swatted his arm. “There’s no harm in looking, is there?”

“None at all.” With some difficulty, he stuffed the bunch of keys Niall had given him into the pocket of his tight jeans. Then he pulled off his hat, hung it on the newel post, and ruffled his hair. Somehow it ended up looking artfully tousled, rather than the horrendous mess she suspected hers was. Jammy bastard. “Right, let’s have a look around. Where shall we start?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m dying for the loo. So my first stop is the bathroom.”

Joel stepped aside to let her pass. “Yeah, I could do with a visit to the porcelain god, too. You go first—I’ll wait for you outside.”

She slipped the strap of her bag over her head and hung it with Joel’s hat, then they kicked off their shoes and traipsed upstairs to a landing area which was basically an echo of the space below it, except that the two pitches of the ceiling sloped down towards the front and rear of the property, making it feel much smaller. No natural light entered the space, but Niall must have flipped a switch downstairs as bulbs glowed from light fittings on the side walls, illuminating their suitcases which had been brought up by Donal.

As she was closing the bathroom door, she glimpsed a nervous-looking Joel loitering beyond it. He’d acted so confident, so sure of his purchase, but the fact he was waiting out there for her, rather than darting straight into the various bedrooms to look around, spoke volumes. Again, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. For once, teasing him didn’t seem appropriate. This was too big a deal.

A few minutes later, she exited the old-fashioned but perfectly serviceable bathroom. Joel flashed her a smile and headed in. “Won’t be a mo.”

Having no qualms herself, she made a beeline for the door opposite, opened it, and went inside. Immediately, she was hit with a musty smell from the lack of use—nothing a bit of fresh air wouldn’t solve. A small window on the side wall let in limited light, giving a similar gloomy effect as the downstairs hallway. She guessed it was all to do with the age of the building—a combination of the cost of glass at the time and the need to keep in every scrap of heat would likely have influenced whoever designed and originally built the place. While it no doubt ensured the property was cosy when the weather was cold, it certainly had a depressing side effect.

In spite of the low light, the large room with its sloped ceiling had its charms. The cream-painted walls and matching carpet were boring but inoffensive, and there was a double bed, but the space could easily accommodate a king sized, or even a super king, which might be something Joel would consider for his high-end holiday rental. Aside from the bed, the room had only a single bedside table and a metal clothes rail. She pressed her lips together. Perhaps the lack of other furniture was falsely inflating the square footage in her mind, and a larger bed, plus the usual accoutrements would actually make the room too cramped.

She shook her head. None of this was anything to do with her, anyway. She was just along for the ride, to keep her best friend company on this first leg of his nutty project. It certainly wasn’t her place to start dreaming up ideas and plans for the renovation.

The trouble was, knowing as she did that a sizable budget was available for those renovations, her imagination was running away with her. It was like being on one of those property programmes on the TV. The possibilities were almost endless.

Not that she could envision swarms of tradespeople descending on the place like they did in those programmes. Who’d want to come and work here? It would, once the job was done, be an idyllic spot for certain holidaymakers, but getting that job done would be a monumental undertaking. She’d already considered the logistics of acquiring building materials and furniture—but what about workers? Not only was it a trek and a half to get here, it wasn’t like there was a convenient Travelodge or Premier Inn they could head to each night for food, showers and sleep. As far as she knew, there wasn’t so much as a bed and breakfast on the island. Given the lack of a shop or a post office, it was highly unlikely. She supposed there was enough room in the cottage for a few people to stay, but who on Earth wanted to live on a building site? Surely there’d be times when the electric, water and gas supplies would be switched off in order to undertake the work safely, being an inconvenience at best, unliveable and unsafe at worst.

Joel arrived then, halting her racing thoughts. She faced him with a smile. “You okay?”

He nodded, returning her smile. “Fine. It’s all right in there, isn’t it?” He flicked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. “Not a bad size, really, despite the pitched roof.”

“And this room’s a great size,” she said, waving a hand around.

He took it all in thoughtfully, then gave another nod. “It is. Shall we go and check out the others?”

“Lead on, good sir.”