6

Rose drove home gripping her steering wheel and cursing under her breath like a demented maniac. Trying to remove the feeling of his hands on her body, hating the way it still felt as though she could feel him touching her. Ignoring the rosy blush which had spread up her chest and cheeks and the warmth low down in her pelvis. The feelings she couldn’t explain happening inside of her, common sense batting the observations away.

Rose was still spitting nails at home an hour later. She had come home almost ripping her dress off, trying to remove the feeling of him on her skin and was systematically scrubbing every inch of her living room like a fevered crazy person on a mission. No one had ever ignited this kind of response in her and she was damned if she was going to dissect it in any way at all. Instead, she was trying to power shift it out of her very core with exertion.

She had hauled the covers and plastic from the old leather couch finally and pulled it into place by the fire. Had dragged the mismatched armchair to the other side and started ripping into random boxes in a mad rage, determined to put all the pent of energy into something productive.

Three hours later she was still slamming around, dragging tables around, moving footstools from the closet and dragging out an array of thick woolen throws, all heaped on the floor. She really had no method to her madness. Just a need to pull things, rip things and use a box cutter to stab at cardboard aggressively.

Muffin had sensed the psychotic rage and had been hiding under the bed since their return, he was happy with a huge bone the butcher had gifted him. He knew a crazy woman on a cleaning mission when he saw one and knew best to keep a distance.

It was the sharp knock at her door which brought her back to reality with a swift slap. It was pitch black outside, she had seen no headlights appear on the gravel road in front of the house and it was getting late. This sudden realisation of her own vulnerability was sobering, a lone woman in a remote and dark area with no one to call for help. Cooling her hot temper and making her simmer back down to an almost submissive state; she tried to peer out the window, pushing the curtains aside, but could only make out a dark figure.

Damn, she needed lights out there!

Going to the door, she called out bravely, aware that it could be anyone. Praying that wandering psychopaths were few and far between in the highlands, keeping her hand on the lock and asking who was there. She was relieved at Abby’s response and opened the door to the girl whose arms were laden with a brown bag filled to bursting. The most welcome sight she had ever seen, an instant surge of genuine happiness and joy.

‘Can I come in for a few minutes?’ Abby looked nervous and awkward, but Rose smiled and pulled her in from the dark and cool night air enthusiastically. Her smile wide and encouraging; she was actually so happy to see her again and the anger and pent up need to massacre boxes dispersed at the sight of her. Like a calming breeze. She had wondered how she would get in touch with the girl again after the way she had left things.

Abby looked around the hall as she came in, noticing the art and canvases on the wall, all painted by Olivia Grey. Her aunt had been an amazing fine artist in oil paints. That had been Roses first mission, her first week here. Her inspiration and joy; a gallery of her most treasured

L.T. Marshall

paintings to warm her heart when coming and going. A reminder of that amazing figure in her life and a way to keep her with her.

Motioning for Abby to follow and relieving her from the burden of the brown bag, they moved through to the living room, Rose apologising for the mess and clearing some cushions from the couch so they could sit. Abby complimented the efforts at getting it cosy and admired some of Roses new purchases, cushions, candles and trinkets. She had only ever been at this cottage as a small child many years ago, Olivia had given her some tuition in drawing at her father’s expense, but she still remembered it vaguely.

Abby dipped into the bag full of cakes and doughnuts from a nameless shop and explained she would have been around earlier, she had gone away with Rob for a bit, while he sorted some business in the next town and was only just back. He had dropped her at the opening of Rose’s road, knowing she was coming here. It seemed the whole town knew who Rose was now. Strangers didn’t stay that way for long in a town like this, everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew their business before long.

‘And he was okay with that?’ Rose was surprised.

‘Why not? I like you. Even if he doesn’t!’ Abby smiled, throwing a wink at her, the hint of cheekiness behind those sparkling eyes. Rose bashed her with a soft cushion and they both laughed, there was something so familiar about Abby, an old friend returned, and it had made for an instant ease between them. Rose tried to ignore the bitter knot in her stomach that Rob Munro didn’t like her. She tried to convince herself it was because the feeling was mutual, and he simply left a bad taste in her mouth.

‘I’m sorry about acting like such a crazy weirdo at the bakery Abby, he just seems to bring it out of me.’ Rose felt her cheeks redden, fidgeting with the glazed doughnut she was turning in her fingers.

‘Rob seems to do that to women. Don’t worry about it, you said he almost wiped your car out. I would have been pissed too.’ Abby gave her a reassuring smile and patted her knee in a very mature manner. ‘Rob’s my brother, so I know better than most that he can be an asshole! You don’t need to apologise at all Rose.’ Both girls regarded each other for a second and broke into wide smiles.

‘Coffee?’ Rose offered brightly, relieved that Abby was understanding, and Abby nodded.

‘If it’s not a bother, I mean if you’re busy I can head off.’ Abby smiled politely.

‘Don’t be daft, I really could use the company.’ Rose smiled and beckoned the girl after her as she made her way to the small kitchen. Abby, lifting the bag and following her, seemed relieved. There was an immediate sense of calm and companionship. No awkward silence or uneasiness.

‘You know though?’ Abby butted into Roses thoughts as she hauled out cups and coffee granules to fill them. ‘Rob isn’t really one to spark quite so quickly, you two certainly have a fire.’ Abby watched Rose carefully, every movement of the teaspoon as though waiting for a reaction. A strange look and a twinkle in Abby’s eye; Rose could almost swear it was a look of mischief.

‘I think what we have is mutual dislike. Instant disagree-ability. I’m very partial to my car and not being run off the road.’ Rose threw her an airy look and tried to steer the topic away from the man who was currently making her heart beat up a gear. ‘So, tell me, this ball... Are you attending? Do you want a date?’ Abby broke into a wide grin.