Where Have All the Boys Gone?(57)

It took a second for Katie to realise that by “the big town” he meant Ullapool.

“Wouldn’t you like lots of new folk in here?” she asked. “It’d be good for business.”

“I’d shoot them with my gun,” said Lachlan, in the same jolly tone he used for everything else. “Unless they were lassies of course.” And he gave her a winning smile.

Once they’d settled themselves in the corner furthest away from Dougie Magnusson’s accordion playing, it became suddenly awkward between them. After all, Katie was rationalising to herself, it was kind of their third date, and he’d seen her crying in a right state and didn’t seem too repulsed, and she still found him more than a bit dreamy. Quite a lot dreamy, in fact. She gulped her vodka and tonic.

Iain wasn’t doing much better. He was trying to stop himself sweating by thought power alone, a hard trick to pull off at the best of times, and worse when you’re sitting between a roaring fire, an accordionist, and forty men, who’ve known you since you were a child, watching your every move. He wished he’d chosen another pub—there were plenty in Ullapool, although you wouldn’t necessarily walk out with all your teeth. He looked at Katie, who was grinning at him, and slurping her drink. Oh God. He hated to think of all those swish city types she’d been with, who’d have wined and dined her and, well, the rest. He was conscious that his hands were clammy. He took another slug of his drink.

Ohmigod, he was knocking it back. That meant he must be thinking what she was thinking, thought Katie. If it was just a casual pint, he wouldn’t wipe his hands on his shirt like that, would he? She hoped he wasn’t really really nervous. She understood that blokes get nervous, of course, but they were meant not to show it, otherwise it was a bit of a turn-off. Women needed to feel they were completely relaxed and being looked after, which couldn’t really happen when somebody was fumbling and knocking their head into your teeth and constantly asking you if everything was all right. What you really needed was to be swept off your feet and not to have to think at all . . . she took a large swallow.

“Another drink?” Iain asked.

“Yes,” said Katie.

He got them large ones.

TWO VODKA AND tonics later, and they were ready. They were relaxed enough not to worry about the consequences, and were chatting away quite normally about childhood pets, if laughing a bit too loudly and deliberately not eating any breath-destroying crisps, even though they were both starving. Iain didn’t feel nervous any more, just excited, and very horny. He’d watched a lot of TV through the long winter nights. He wondered if she was one of those girls he’d learned about who’d gone back to pretending they were born-again virgins and you had to buy them jewellery and stuff in exchange for sex, which struck him as incredibly distasteful. On the other hand, girls like that didn’t tend to settle for a few drinks in the Mermaid, or at least he wouldn’t have thought so, if he’d ever met any like that, which he hadn’t.

Katie was thinking that this would be a very good time to get this show on the road, to hit her window of opportunity. It was difficult to judge, so she wanted to get a move on, prompted by finding herself applauding Dougie’s rendition of the Banks and Braes of Bonny Doon.

As if reading her mind, the conversation suddenly stuttered to a halt.

“Uh, um . . .” started Iain. “Would you like to take a walk?”

“Why not!” said Katie, in what she hoped was a careless and breezy fashion. She hoped “a walk” meant “back to my flat” and not “let’s get down in the dunes.” It was nippy out there.

ACTUALLY, AT FIRST it was nice and cool outside after the warmth of the pub. They both felt somewhat relieved. As if it was a natural thing to do, Katie slipped her hand through Iain’s arm. It felt good there; right. The feel of his warm body this close reminded her of how long it had been since she’d just felt close to someone, unless you counted Louise, which she most certainly didn’t.

“Do you think you’ll stay here for ever?” she asked softly as they strolled down to the waterfront.

Iain looked around. “Um, I don’t know. I think so . . . I mean, look how beautiful it is. I don’t know how I’d cope in Glasgow or Edinburgh . . . I may seem like a pretty relaxed guy . . .”

In fact, he was doing an impression of being anything but relaxed at the moment, but Katie knew what he meant,

“But I get . . . intimidated quite easily.”

He said this staring at the ground, and Katie understood suddenly how hard it must have been for him to stand up to his dad. He was a shy thing really.

“Sorry, that wasn’t very rugged, was it? I should say, I’m a crazy sex god scared of nothing and nobody.”

“Well, it’s patently obvious you’re that too,” said Katie. He smiled. Despite its warmth, Katie was starting to feel the cold.

“Where do you live?” she asked suddenly. It was a reasonable question, wasn’t it? And even if it wasn’t, didn’t men appreciate a bit of directness?

“Well, funny you should ask,” said Iain. “We’re, um, kind of standing in front of it.”

“Oh.”

“Cof . . . ?”

“Yes please.”





Chapter Thirteen