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“See you back down here in five?” Alasdair suggests. “Oh, and bring a change of clothes, a towel, and a pair of trainers you don’t mind getting wet.”

I make it up three steps before turning around and reluctantly coming back down. “Er, sorry, but . . . what am I supposed to wear under this?”

He grins, softening an expression that’s normally so stern, so serious. It’s a nice smile, even if it is due to my obvious embarrassment. He should smile more often.

“That’s all down to personal preference. Me, I don’t wear anything underneath. Swimming shorts bunch up under a wetsuit, and, well . . . I don’t like that. It’s not comfortable. They’re also just another thing I have to dry off afterwards. You can wear a swimsuit if you want, though. It’s up to you.”

“Thanks. Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

I make my way upstairs, now with the thought of him naked stuck in my head. Was this a bad idea? I mean, how many people stumble into someone with whom they had a childhood holiday romance? It didn’t help that Alasdair’s mate, Aidan, seemed determined to make things as awkward as possible between us.

I meant what I said, though: my head is a mess, and this could be good for me. Besides, Dad was always into his outdoor activities. I was too, when I was young, and before teenage me decided I was too cool for it. It’s been years since I’ve done anything like this, but it’d be nice to explore that side of me again, to experience something Dad and I used to do together.

Up in my room, I put on a white bikini then pull on the wetsuit. It’s not easy to get on—it involves a lot of tugging and yanking—but after a lengthy struggle, I get into it, and the fit seems okay. The zip, though, goes up the back, and it’s a bloody nightmare to pull up. I have to reach behind me, which isn’t easy. I manage to get it up a little way, but that’s the best I can do.

I don’t want to head out of my room with my back exposed, but I don’t have much choice. I put on trainers, shove a towel and change of clothes in a tote bag, along with the pies and snowball I bought at the bakery, then head back down to reception.

Alasdair is waiting for me, in his wetsuit, and . . . wow. Just . . . wow.

It clings to him in a flattering manner, showing off his arm and leg muscles. Before I can stop myself, I glance down and see it also causes a rather satisfying bulge in the crotch area.

Oh God, Emily. Eyes up!

My heart rate quickens, and I’m terrified Alasdair may have noticed my drifting gaze, but he shows no signs of having done so. In fact, he’s busy checking me out, studying the entire length of me—just like earlier—only this time I too am in a tight-fitting wetsuit that highlights every contour, and I mean every contour.

“Oi, my face is up here!” I feel hypocritical saying it, given moments ago I was ogling him, but I can hardly not comment on his very obvious scrutiny of me.

“Right you are! Sorry, I was just making sure it was a good fit, but it is. It fits you perfectly.”

It may be my imagination, but I swear there’s a fiery warmth in his hazel eyes. It forces me to avert my gaze.

Oh God. If I’m going to go rafting with this man, I need to get a grip.

“Er, I had a bit of trouble with the zip,” I say. “Could you help me with it?”

“Och, they can be a pain, can’t they? Turn around.”

I do, sensing his towering presence as he positions himself close behind me.

“Oh, you opted for a bikini, I see. Good idea.” He tugs the zip, his fingers lightly brushing my skin.

Goosebumps tingle up my spine. “Just yank it up!” I snap.

“Sorry.” His low voice carries a hint of mischief. “There you go, all set.”

I move away from Alasdair and rummage through my tote bag. I’m not actually looking for anything—I just needed to put a bit of distance between us. I’m also not ready to meet his eye. My pulse is racing, and I’m experiencing a jumble of feelings and emotions: awkwardness, excitement, guilt.

That exchange felt like a betrayal somehow, like if Harry had been here and had seen the way we were checking each other out, had seen Alasdair tugging up the zip of my wetsuit, he’d have been furious. I have to remind myself Harry is no longer a part of my life and that the reason I’m going rafting is to get away from these kinds of thoughts.

“Give me a minute to find Lewis, and then we’ll get going,” Alasdair says. “I’ll be right back.” He heads upstairs but meets the two older women I saw at breakfast. He stands aside to let them pass. “Hello, Agnes. Hello, Nina. Is that you heading out? What are you up to today?”

Both women smile and chatter away to Alasdair. I swear I also catch them sneaking peeks at his bod. No way. Aren’t they too old to be checking someone out? I wonder if Alasdair even realises just how revealing his wetsuit is. I suspect not because he’s perfectly at ease.

Once the conversation ends, the women make their way down the rest of the stairs and turn their attention to me.

“Oh, look at you,” one of them says, a playful hint to her voice. “Are you going out on the water with Ally? I tell you, if I were a few decades younger, I’d be coming too.”

“And me!” the other cackles. “The three of us would be fighting over him!”