At the store in the hangar’s operations room, I stomped about, checking inventory. Outside in the main building, crew shouted to each other and metal clanked, accompanying me as I worked. I’d ordered new kit and binned some old. Then there were boxes that had been stuck on a high shelf, presumably for a reason.
The boxes bothered me—I didn’t like an untidy store. Or loose ends left untied, like the lass I needed to talk to but hadn’t found the chance.
A figure stopped in the doorway. “Mr Ross. Ye wanted to see me.”
My glance revealed Max, who I now knew to be Cait’s brother as well as the not-so helpful one of the twins.
In the past weeks, he’d been present on a couple of missions but had given me less of the backchat as when he’d been with his twin. His surliness hadn’t shifted, though.
There was more going on than I understood, and I intended to work it out. For his sake, and nothing to do with how I liked his sister.
I gave the lad the once-over. “Thanks for coming in. Here, help me with this.”
He followed my indication to the first of the boxes then planted his boot on the bench to grab it from the shelf. “Where do ye want it?”
“On the table. I need to work out what to keep and what to bin.”
Max carried the box to the wide table where we often sorted kit then ripped open the tape. We peered at old, holed jumpsuits and cracked helmets.
“Ye ken how sentimental your Uncle Gordain is?” I asked.
“Aye.”
I grunted, an internal debate playing out. At over halfway through my term here, I had taken ownership of the role of head of service and fucking loved it. The volunteers listened to me, I’d updated the ways of working with success, and our last few call-outs had been textbook.
My secondary role of overseeing the hangar’s operations was easy as pie, the place practically running itself.
I’d even gone up in the Sea King with one of the pilots, the buzz unbeatable.
Almost.
Staying wasn’t on my agenda—there was no role for me here beyond Gordain’s return, and that end date would come quickly enough.
“What are ye going to do with it?” Max asked.
“Chuck it all, perhaps.”
He raised a shoulder. “Your call.”
It was, but this wasn’t my change to make. I was only a small part of the history of this place.
“Stick it back on the shelf,” I ordered. “I’ll mark it up for Gordain to decide on when he returns.”
Max obliged then followed me out to the ops room. “Is that why ye called me here? To not clear out boxes?”
I huffed at his cheek. I had two ways to play this youngster. Either call him out on his attitude problem or try to help him change it.
I folded my arms and eyed him. “I want to designate ye as a runner. Ye live locally, and you’re usually the first here.”
Runners answered the call instantly and attended the scene ahead of the main crew. They’d stabilise an injured or cold person until they could be brought off the hill.
Max was a biker, I’d discovered. Speed appealed to him.
The brawny young man blinked then pushed back his auburn hair. Doubt filled his expression. “I’m Max. Did ye mean to ask for Maddock?”
“Naw.”
He considered this. Apparently, I’d stumped him.
“I’ll pair ye up with Cameron for the next few times we need this kind of role. You’re both fast, sharp-eyed, first-aid trained, and ye know the ground.”
“Will ye ask my brother, too?”
“I didnae plan to.” Needing a coffee, I passed Max and slapped the lad on the shoulder. “Ye can answer now, or later, if ye want to think on it.”
His frown deepened. “Aye, no need to think. I’ll do it.”
Inside, I warmed, but I kept my expression stern. “Good. I’ll talk to Cameron.”
“I’ll see him after work in a couple of days. Family dinner at the castle,” he explained.
A family dinner. There were so many McRaes around, I could only imagine the scene of them all sharing a meal. The good feeling. The loud conversation.
A powerful pang hit me of how I missed out. Of how my daughter did.
Yesterday, I’d driven south to check my messages.
Nothing had come in from my sister. She wasn’t the greatest at communications, but this wasn’t like her. I could only assume she’d been deployed somewhere with limited opportunities to send an email.
I stared at my black coffee. Christmas would be upon us soon enough. Snow had claimed its place on the higher grounds. Isla’s birthday was in a week, and I had no idea how to make it special for her. With no note from her aunt, she’d feel it hard.
Dimly, I was aware of Max saying something, but I’d lost myself in my thoughts.
Cait’s voice joining his pulled me back in a rush.
Cait was here.
“Maximus. Shouldn’t ye be at work?” she asked her brother.
“Lunchbreak, Caitriona.” He pulled a face at her. “Why are ye here?”
Kah-tree-nah. Such a pretty fucking name.
Under the bright operation centre lights, Cait’s eyes sparkled. “None of your business. Are ye going to Uncle Callum’s dinner?”
“Aye. He’ll only moan if someone doesn’t show.” He switched his gaze to me. “Did ye need me for anything else, boss?”
“Naw the now. Thanks for stopping by.”
Max left. I stared at Cait in no small amount of wonder. In my months here, she’d never graced the hangar, yet here she was.
Her gaze took in my jumpsuit. The oil on my hands from where I’d poked around one of the helis. She lingered on my lips.
We’d never kissed, despite everything else we’d done.
I wanted her to launch at me. Wind those long legs around my waist and take my mouth with hers. Do everything I’d been dreaming about since our tryst last week.
Except that wasn’t Cait’s style.
It had taken everything in her to instigate sex with me. Bravery that I admired and imagined didn’t come easily considering the background she’d explained.
Every inch of me screamed fuck it, take her in your arms. But I couldn’t.
Anything more with this lass and I’d be in trouble.
A kiss, and I’d be over the edge.
She was so warm. If I fell for her, I’d be fucked. Already, a small kernel of something had taken root. A deep and tender…what? Longing. If I focused too hard on it, it caught my breath. I couldn’t afford to give up that air. For a long time, I’d run on pure energy, the inner part of me cold and untouched. Cait’s heat would melt that, leave me weak.
The conclusion hurt, but it only intensified my resolve. I liked her. Too much. So I had to end this now.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hello, Cait.”
She tilted her head. “If ye want, ye can call me Caitriona.”
“Is that what your family call ye?”
“Aye. Only them.”
Ah God, she twisted a knife without even knowing.
“What do your family call ye?” Curiosity decorated her sweet tone. She pulled her fleece-lined denim jacket tighter around her.
“Lochie. Well, Blair does. My sister. She’s the only one left.”
“I’m sorry. Where is she?”
“Deployed.”
In a heartbeat, I’d told her more about me than anyone else knew. Information that was dangerous in the wrong hands. Not in hers, though. Without asking, I knew she wouldn’t share a word.
Since last week, I’d been more and more tempted to confide in Cait. I needed advice on my daughter, and with Cait’s situation, her specific family circumstances, she’d know far more than me.
Maybe I could do that on a friend basis.
If only I could get over the longing first.
A laugh came from outside in the hangar, and we straightened, though none of the passion had turned into action.
Cait blew out a breath. “I came here to do two things. First, to check on ye and ask a question.”
“Check on me? Why?”
“Last week, I left ye…” Her cheeks reddened. “Unfulfilled. I regretted that.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I didnae mind.”
She gazed at the floor. “It won’t happen next time.”
Heat flooded me. I spoke through a tight throat. “Next time?”
“I want to offer ye a deal.”
“Cait, stop.”
Cait gave a laugh. “Ye don’t even know the terms.”
Her amusement flickered as if she sensed my mood change. Still, she pushed on.
“I want to try what we did again. Test out a couple of different scenarios I’ve been thinking about. If ye agree.”
Hiding my instant lust, I forced a calm face. “I’m sorry, I cannae.”
“Why?”
“I’m leaving soon. It isnae a good idea.”
For a long moment, we just gazed at each other. I resisted the urge to drag her to the operation room’s floor and have her here, and she simply took me in.
Her shoulder sagged. “Then no deal. Right. Um, the second thing is to extend an invitation. Callum, Da’s oldest brother and the chief of our clan, is hosting a meal at Castle McRae tomorrow. Ye and Isla are included in the invitation. It’s last-minute, so ye might have plans…”
“No plans. We can be there.”
Cait linked her gaze to mine once more, and neither of us moved or spoke. Cruel tension ached where I held myself firm.
“Good,” she finally said. “It’s at five-thirty because of the bairns. Callum and Mathilda’s daughter, Skye, is visiting with her family. She has two children not far off Isla’s age, so there will be someone for her to play with.”
Another pause. Another long stare.
“Caitriona,” I asked, using her longer form name without conscious thought.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about your deal.”
“So am I.” She pressed up on her toes, kissed my cheek, and left.
