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The Highland Bad Boy

Page 46

by Amy McGavin

“That’s not the point.” Lewis crosses his arms and gives me a stern big-brother stare. “You can’t just help yourself every time you fancy something.”

Ouch. The sting of truth isn’t lost on me. I wonder if this is how all my brothers see me—the sibling who takes rather than contributing.

Bruce gives my hand a slobbery lick of consolation then trots off down the corridor in pursuit of peace and quiet. Wise dog.

“Fine, fine. I hear you loud and clear,” I mutter, trying for my most repentant expression.

“Aye, I’ve heard that before, though, haven’t I?” Lewis doesn’t budge. “Like all those times you’d ring Ally for a wee ‘loan’ after overspending. You promised him every single time it’d be the last.” He shakes his head. “Honestly, I used to think he was daft for caving as often as he did. And now I hear you’ve hired MacDonald to work on your flat without having the cash to pay him?”

Jesus, word really does travel fast in this town.

“Aye, all right, I get it!” I throw my hands up, my embarrassment morphing into defensiveness. “Maybe I didn’t think things through with the money, but⁠—”

“No, you didn’t,” Lewis interrupts. “Do you ever think maybe it’s past time you were a bit more responsible and grew up, Cat?”

He’s the second brother today to tell me to grow up, and something inside me snaps. “Enjoying life up there on Mount Judgement, are you? You’ve seen my flat, yet here you are in this lovely place, which belonged to our parents and is just as much mine as yours. So I think you can excuse me for nabbing a few mini bottles of shampoo. You’ve done pretty well out of this arrangement, Lewis.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. They hang in the air between us, sharp and ugly.

Lewis stares back at me, stunned. A flicker of hurt crosses his face before he composes himself.

“If you’d wanted to stay in your old room,” he says quietly, “you’d have been very welcome to. You’re the one who didn’t want to. No one asked you to buy an old rundown flat without warning anyone what you were up to.”

His measured response only makes me feel worse.

“Aye,” I admit, heat creeping up my cheeks, “but let’s be honest, I’d have ended up leaving eventually. The hotel . . . it’s your and Iona’s home now. Not mine.”

Lewis scrubs a hand over his face. “Shit, Cat. I . . . don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

Guilt gnaws at my insides. Lewis pours his heart and soul into this place, giving it everything he’s got. His hard graft turned the business around, kept our parents’ legacy alive, and here I am accusing him of hoarding it all for himself, when that’s not exactly how things happened.

“I’m sorry, Lewis.” My throat is tight. “That was bang out of order. I didn’t mean it. You, Ally, and Jamie have always been there for me, and I just—” I choke on a sob. “Oh Lewis, I’ve messed up. I . . . I wanted the flat to feel like mine—a proper home—but I’ve gone about everything all wrong.” A hot tear slides down my cheek, and then another. “Now I don’t know how to fix this. I feel like such an idiot.”

Lewis’s face softens and he steps forwards and folds me into a big bear hug. “Hey now, it’s all right,” he soothes, holding me tight.

I hug him back, grateful for his steady, familiar comfort. Honestly, what a roller coaster of a day—blubbering this morning, shrieking with glee on the back of Robbie’s motorbike, getting all introspective at the clootie well, and now crying again. Talk about emotional whiplash.

“You know what?” Lewis says. “You’re right about the hotel.”

I pull back from him and swipe at my tears. “What?”

He gives a half-smile. “I’d never want you, or Jamie or Ally for that matter, to feel like I’ve pinched something that belongs to all of us. But . . . it’s complicated, you know? The hotel isn’t something we can easily divide up between us. Unless we sold it, of course, but⁠—”

“God no! I don’t want you to sell this place. The Bannock Hotel belongs in McIntyre hands. Your hands. Lewis, this is your home, your dream. You’re the one who’s kept everything that Maw and Da built going, and that’s amazing. You and Iona will raise your own family here, I bet, just like our parents did with us. And that’s exactly how it should be.” I squeeze his arm so he knows I mean it.

Lewis visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening. “Thanks, but still . . .” He looks thoughtful for a moment, as if piecing something together in his mind. “I think we do need to sort something out financially between the four of us, especially now you’ve got your own place, Ally’s got his, and Jamie’s practically living with Maisie.” He nods, growing more certain of the idea. “Aye, it’s what Maw and Da would want. They’d also want their youngest living in a clean and pleasant home, so . . . let me have a look at my finances and see if I can’t work out something that’ll allow you to finish your flat renovations.”

I blink at him, not quite believing my ears. “Are you sure? Don’t you want to wait until we figure everything out properly with Ally and Jamie?”

He laughs softly. “To be clear, Cat, anything I send over now will come out of your share once the four of us finalise an agreement. Think of this as an advance.”

I fling my arms around him and hug him again, fiercely this time. “Thank you, Lewis!”

“You’re welcome. But in the future, maybe think a bit more carefully before making any big financial commitments. I’m always happy to talk things over and give you advice, but it’s generally better to do that beforehand.”

I release him and nod solemnly. “Right. No more impulse spending or casual pilfering from the supply cupboard. That’s a Cat McIntyre promise. Operation Responsible Adult starts now.”

I dig into my tote and return the shampoo and conditioner bottles to him, a little sheepishly. “Sorry again.”