Somewhere New (Isle of Doughnut #1)

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ASTER

I watched Callum plough through the snow until he disappeared into the darkness. A feeble bleat coaxed me away from the cabin door.

I knelt beside the two goats snuggled in front of the fire and ran my fingers across the baby’s super-soft head. He was a uniform grey, unlike Albert’s mottled whites, browns, and blacks.

‘How you doing, little one?’

My heart—which hadn’t recovered from Callum appearing covered in blood—had almost leapt from my chest when he’d loosened his strong arms and the cutest goat-face poked out.

It was totally messed up and wrong since Callum was clearly having the worst day, but seeing such a huge man cradling a helpless diddy creature did things to me. I wanted to be the thing Callum wrapped his ridiculously muscled arms around.

I shook my head. Several times a day, I cocooned myself in Callum’s arms. In a friendly way. Which was all I wanted. All I needed. I had a plan when I came to Doughnut, and I wasn’t going to let the hottest and kindest man in the world screw it up.

I bit my lip, using both hands to pet the goats to stop Albert getting jealous.

‘You’re such a tiny thing,’ I mused, then grinned. ‘I’m going to call you Tim.’

It would be a delightful surprise if Callum got the reference. Most likely, he’d think Tim’s name was a nudge towards Dickens, not the glorious Muppets film. I was alright with Callum believing I was cultured, and not strangely fascinated by singing puppets.

Callum hadn’t told me how often to feed the goat-baby but if Albert’s eating habits were anything to go by, I figured another bottle wouldn’t hurt. Following Callum’s instructions, I measured out powder and added warm water.

The bottle was gratefully—if violently—received. Afterwards, I slumped onto the sofa. Which was very much where I should lie down and sleep.

But my shoulders and hips already ached from where I’d rested on it earlier, and it wasn’t like Callum would be back any time soon. Since I’d never let him sleep out here now I knew how painful it was, I could allow myself one more night of comfort.

‘You two look after each other,’ I murmured to the sleeping goats as I stole through to the bedroom.

I sighed as I lay down and pulled Callum’s blankets close, sure that unconsciousness would wash over me within minutes. But sleep was hard to come by. I turned on one side, then the other. I counted sheep, then goats. I practised breathing deep and tried to clear my mind.

It refused to clear. Again and again, my thoughts centred on the man battling through snow right now to save goats. If I hadn’t been here to force him, Callum wouldn’t have stopped to clean and feed himself before he rushed back outside.

Duty was a powerful thing. I felt it, sometimes. The drive to conquer what puny magic I had in memory of Mum. The need to do well at university to justify Dad paying for my housing. The desire to look after Lucas when his dad upped and left. Duty affected my actions, but my life was generally free.

Callum’s wasn’t. He was driven every day by the need to protect the goats on this island. He held in all the sadnesses of his past because his sister didn’t want to talk about them. He just about looked after himself, but only so he would be in peak condition to run around and do all the things he felt compelled to do.

I shivered and tugged the blankets under my chin. For the rest of my time here—just over two months—I wanted to help Callum loosen up and have fun. To do things because he wanted to, not because he had to. The TV watching and hugs were a good start, but somehow I needed to wheedle out of Callum what his frivolous desires were. Or maybe help him think of some.

I must have dozed off to idle thoughts of teaching Callum to rollerblade because I was jostled from sleep by the bed dipping behind me. Freezing hands touched my back, and I snapped to full awareness.

‘Callum?’ I whispered.

The bedding rippled to the rhythm of his full-body shivers. ‘Aster, is this okay?’

Was it okay? Good question. I couldn’t deny that I’d allowed myself split-second fantasies of Callum joining me in bed, but I’d imagined him warm and pressing into me with insatiable need, not apologetic and shivering. But there was no way I would reject him.

I wriggled until he was forced to wrap his arms around me, then pulled his frozen hands close to my chest. ‘Of course it’s okay.’

He relaxed, snuggling closer. His chest was flush with my back, his nose cold on the nape of my neck. His knees bent into the space behind mine.

Slowly, his breathing deepened. For a second time, I struggled to sleep.

My ulterior motive in coming to this remote Scottish island had been to cure myself of my need for romantic entanglements. I was supposed to return to London self-sufficient, needing closeness from no one.

As he slept, Callum rubbed his forehead into my hair. I threaded my fingers through his and closed my eyes.

My plan rested in tatters around my feet. One word from this guy, one sliver of interest, and I wouldn’t be able to resist.