June, Reimagined (10)
June forced her teeth to stop chattering and gently touched Hamish’s arm. “Let’s go.” She extended the handle on her roller bag and hiked the backpack up on her shoulder. Then she met Lennox’s eye with as much fire as she could muster. He may have been bigger and loads stronger, and June may have been about to crumble, but she’d be damned if she let him see that. “Thanks for saving my life. I’m sorry it was so taxing for you.” She turned away with a straight back and shaking hands, noting the panic weaseling its way into her system.
Lennox grunted. “Fine. She can stay in room eight.”
June stopped, her back still to the door.
“Grand! I knew you’d come ’round!” Hamish threw his hands up in celebration.
June turned enthusiastically and started back toward the house, but Lennox stopped her with his arm. “On one condition.”
“What?” June and Hamish asked simultaneously.
Lennox pointed a long, strong finger at June, distrust written all over his face. “No more life-threatening emergencies. I deal with enough of those as it is. Do you think you can handle that, Peanut?”
June wanted to grab his annoying finger and twist it.
“Sure, she can!” Hamish announced. “Right, well, I better be gettin’ home to Soph and the kids. She’ll be at her wits’ end, wondering where the hell I am.” He told June to take the next day to settle into her new accommodations and acquaint herself with the town. Then he pulled her into a hug and whispered, “Let’s not tell Lennox about our little exchange. If he asks about money for the room, tell him Amelia specifically said not to bother him with that. And do yourself a favor, buy a proper raincoat and some wellies.” He released June and winked. “Work at the café starts on Monday, nine o’clock sharp.”
And before June knew it, she was standing alone with Lennox, the lights of Hamish’s car dwindling down the driveway.
Lennox turned and walked into the house. “This way, Peanut.”
“My name is June.”
“I’m aware, Peanut.”
“Are you always this infuriating?” She rolled her heavy bag behind her, its wheels echoing off the stone floor of the foyer.
“Are you always this combative?” Lennox asked.
June wanted to strangle him, but she took a breath and ignored the question altogether.
A large fire burned in the living room’s sizable stone fireplace. A deer head with huge antlers hung above the mantel. The ceiling was lined with thick wooden beams. The furniture was dated—worn-out red-and-blue tartan couch, faded leather chairs, paintings of the Scottish countryside dotted with deer. Peeling green paper covered the walls, which were hung with smaller taxidermy deer and sheep heads.
“And you think I’m the murderer,” June stated. “Kill all these yourself?”
“I don’t hunt,” Lennox groaned.
“Well, between you and that couch, it’s so vintage nineties in here.” June gestured to Lennox’s well-worn brown-and-dark-blue flannel shirt. “Is flannel the official tartan for the Clan of the Bawbags?”
Lennox narrowed his eyes. “Yanks aren’t usually funny.”
“My first compliment.” June put her hand over her heart, mockingly feigning gratitude.
“I was making an observation, Peanut. You’re consistent with the trend.” He headed toward the large staircase, with faded green carpet, that split the lower level of the house into two sections. Opposite the living room was a large dining room, wallpapered in navy-blue-and-green tartan and covered in more animal heads, and what June assumed was the door to the kitchen.
She would have to wait to find out as Lennox was already climbing the stairs. June lifted her suitcase and heaved it up the first few steps. She paused. Her day had exhausted her—that morning she had boarded a bus from Inverness toward Ullapool and then Knockmoral, was then taken in an emergency vehicle to a hospital in Bonar Bridge (wherever that was), and was now back in Knockmoral. June had no idea what time it was, but it felt late. She leaned back on the ornate wooden banister, letting her fatigue wash over her.
At the top of the stairs, Lennox turned and groaned again.
June pressed a hand to her clammy forehead. “You sound like a caveman when you do that.” She imitated Lennox’s guttural moan. “Me not like you. Ugh.”
Lennox stomped down the stairs to retrieve her bag. Too easily, he picked it up and carried it to the top. June followed, proclaiming that she was perfectly capable of carrying her own bag.
“Aye, you’re in great shape,” Lennox jested, pointing to the sheen of sweat on June’s brow.
“I’ve had a rough day.” A rough month, June thought. Or year . . . If she was honest, June could barely remember a recent time when her life wasn’t choppy. “Can you just take me to my room so I can sleep?”
Lennox gestured to his right. “Eva’s, David’s, and Angus’s rooms are down that hallway. Amelia stays on the main floor. Your room is this way.” He started to his left, dragging June’s bag.
“Where is everyone?” June asked.
“The pub.”
“Why aren’t you there?”
“Not your concern.”
“Did they go without you? Shocking, considering how social you are.”