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“I feel like a footballer who’s just scored a hat-trick,” I confess. Her approval causes some primal part of me to surge with pride—an instinctual, almost caveman-like satisfaction in knowing that she’s impressed by my size. “Now you strip.”

“What? No way! My clothes aren’t coming off until you strut your stuff.”

Shit, I forgot about that.

“All right, but . . .” Maybe it’s too late to redefine the terms of our deal, but I decide to try. “I don’t just want to see you naked,” I confess. “If I do this, I want to touch you too.” In the safety of darkness, it’s a lot easier to admit this desire than if I were looking my best friend in the eye.

“You won’t be seeing or doing anything unless you start dancing,” she points out. “And I’m growing impatient.”

“Fine,” I mutter, steeling my nerves. “But you better brace yourself because this performance is going to blow your mind.”

And so, squaring my shoulders, I begin my courtship display.

CHAPTER TEN

IONA

Now

It’s late—long past time I should have left the surgery and headed home—but I’m still here. I’ve been analysing blood samples from a few ewes who were displaying signs of lethargy and poor appetite. The results from the haematology analyser indicate an infection, so I ring the farmer to let him know and to discuss next steps.

I’m just finishing up the call when Donald, the senior vet, peeks his head around the door. “We’re not working you too hard, are we?” he asks after I hang up. “That’s me off now, and I hope you’re not staying much longer. A good work-life balance is important, Iona.”

I smile. “I’ll only be a few more minutes. And don’t worry—I love this job.”

“All right, well, I’ll leave you to lock up. Have a good night.”

After he leaves, my smile fades slightly. I do love the job—it’s the “life” part where I’m having some issues. I’m not exactly in a rush to head back to Maw’s.

What I’d really like to do is to vent about a few things—get them off my chest—but I can’t chat with Maw or Richard about them because . . . they’re at the heart of the problem. Donald is nice, but I’m not about to off-load my personal problems on a colleague, so . . . who can I talk to?

For my last few years in Glasgow, I shared a flat with Cat McIntyre. We told each other everything—well, except for what happened between me and her brother Lewis. I kept that to myself. Otherwise, though, if something was bothering me, talking it over with her always helped. I decide to give her a ring.

“Hello, stranger!” Her voice is lively and cheerful, as usual.

“Hey, you. How are things going in Wick?”

Like me, Cat has returned to the Highlands, in her case to do her probationary year as a high school English teacher. She was hoping to be posted in Bannock or at least somewhere nearby, but instead ended up a two-and-a-half-hour drive north of here, almost at the very tip of the British mainland.

“It’s a nice enough place, and the kids are all right, but man, I used to think Bannock was remote. I was so naive! You can get from Bannock to Inverness in forty minutes, but up here there’s nothing but quiet hamlets, tiny villages, and very occasionally a small town. Mostly, though, it’s just miles and miles and miles of rugged landscape.”

I can see the problem there. I know Cat, and that doesn’t sound like her scene at all. She liked to hit the clubs when she was in Glasgow.

“Next year you’ll have a bit more control over where you work,” I offer. “Hopefully, you can come back to Bannock. I miss having you around.”

“I miss you too—and my stupid brothers. Anyway, how are you getting on?”

“Well . . .” I hesitate, unsure how to begin.

“Shit, that doesn’t sound good. Tell me everything—I need some news to help me feel connected to the world.”

“The job is going well,” I say, “but . . . living at Maw’s isn’t easy.”

“Oh? Is she making you too much food? I love Elspeth, but if I moved in with her, my waistline would never forgive me.”

“That is a bit of an issue, but . . . it’s not Maw who’s the main problem.”

“Oh crap, it’s Richard? What’s up?”