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Belle rolled her head back as Hamish charted a path of kisses down her neck. Her eyes landed on the alarm clock beside the bed and she clenched them shut out of some silly fear that seeing the time might somehow jinx the whole thing.
His lips found her nipple, and she arched her back with a moan as he rolled his tongue around it. His hand wandered over her hip and between her legs and he paused to look up at her. She fluttered her eyes open, finding him hovering over her with a smile.
“What?” Belle asked.
Hamish wet his lips and shrugged. “You're beauti–”
He cut himself off at the sound of tires crunching on gravel outside, followed by the sound of a car door slamming shut.
They both let out heavy sighs.
“
Shite.”
Hamish muttered under his breath. He collapsed on top of her and the mattress springs squeaked under their weight. “Never a dull moment, eh?”
Belle cupped his face and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, looking at him with a rueful smile before pecking him on the lips.
She let out a grunt as he rolled gracelessly off of her and out of bed. Pulling himself up to his feet, he spun around and tucked his fingers through the slats of the blinds so he could peer out the window.
“Who could it be
this
time?” Belle asked, taking in the view of his bare bottom. After a beat, she shook her up and began to rifle through the messy pile of sheets for her underwear. They were lucky enough to have gotten
that
far, at least.
“...Good old Mr McCrae,”
Hamish answered sourly. He stepped away from the window and began hastily plucking the scattered pieces of his uniform off of the floor as their visitor began knocking on the door.
Belle finally hopped out of bed, giving up on her panties for the moment in favor grabbing her skirt off the dresser. She tugged it over her hips, then stood uselessly in the corner of the room as she searched for her bra, only to find it strewn precariously over the lamp shade. She swiped it down and pulled it over her shoulders, racing to fasten it while her eyes scanned the room for her blouse.
There, on the floor it was, and no sooner had she spotted it than was she buttoning it up.
She watched as Hamish tugged his pants past his hips, and a little whine escaped her as he fastened his belt. She couldn’t recall the last time they’d been able to enjoy each other’s company properly.
The pounding on the door continued, and Hamish stepped over to her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.
“I'll catch you later?” he said softly. He had his brows furrowed apologetically as he flashed her those brown puppy eyes, and Belle couldn't help smiling.
“I know,” she sighed. “I have to share you with the rest of Lochdubh.”
“Macbeth!”
McCrae hollered from outside, and the pair of them winced.
“Ye’ve gotta come down and see this!”
“So
sorry.” he said again, pressing a kiss to her cheek and putting his hat back on.
She sent him off with a finishing a pat on the chest and peck on the lips– then gathered her things, heading for the back door.
It was as though fate was working against them, Belle thought as she made her trek to the library. Every time she had her lips on his, her hands on his shoulders, and her body pressed to his, was when everything would go wrong.
He'd tuck a hand beneath her blouse, plant a kiss on her neck, and suddenly, there'd be crime afoot.
Burglary.
Murder.
Arson.
A missing person.
Someone herding more than three sheep abreast on the road.
Stolen
salt,
of all things.
For a town as tiny and remote as Lochdubh, there was certainly no shortage of trouble.
On one hand, Belle couldn't fault Hamish for how deeply he cared for this town and the people in it. Couldn't complain about how handsome he looked in his uniform.
But on the other? This was getting ridiculous.
It seemed no matter what day of the week, no matter what time of day, the only way to get some quality time alone with the police constable was to commit some sort of crime.
Yes,
she thought.
When duty called, Hamish MacBeth had to answer.
It seemed there was no such thing as a day off for Lochdubh's only police constable, but perhaps– just maybe– Belle could make
herself
the subject of official police business.
The real question was
how?
Her well-read mind conjured all sort of tales she could fabricate– but she dismissed them all quickly. Hamish would become hot-headed if he felt she was ever in any real danger.
No, no. It had to be something harmless. Enough to be worth
reporting,
but harmless.
*****
Hamish couldn't help the concerned lump in his throat when it was
Belle
who was dropping by the station to report some suspicious activity. To her credit she seemed perfectly calm when she arrived at the station. But while that was enough to keep him from storming into town and delivering a few colorful threats, it did little to ease his nerves.
He knew Belle wouldn’t want him to worry though, and so he was determined to treat the case– whatever it was– the same as he would any other. Resisting the urge to worry and fuss over her, he took Belle’s jacket and offered her the seat across from his desk so they could begin.
She smoothed the short length of her skirt over her bottom as she sat down, and tossed her hair over her shoulder– revealing the pale, smooth expanse of her chest.
Those chestnut waves were so perfectly tousled, he couldn’t help noticing, and her cheeks so perfectly flushed by the winds outside. That expanse of chest was flushed too, just as it had been the other day before they were interrupted by Mr McCrae.
Hamish coughed and shook his head, turning his focus to the task at hand.
“So.” he said, putting on a tight-lipped smile and trying to loosen up his shoulders. “Suspicious activity, eh?”
Belle scoot in her seat and stared down at his nameplate for a moment. “Yes, um– at the library.” she said, swallowing and straightening her posture– shoulders back and chest forward.
He raised a brow, prompting her to continue.
Belle closed her eyes, and there was a little smile on her lips before she took a deep breath, which she released slowly.
She started from the beginning: How she'd arrived in the morning and unlocked the doors. Turned the lights on, booted up the computer and waited. Checked back in the returns that had been dropped off overnight, placed them in a cart, began reshelving. There was an unusual practicedness about it, a carefulness that Hamish had come to associate with not-quite-innocent parties who had chanced upon mischief while stirring up some of their own. People who were making an effort not to implicate themselves.
Which was to say it was the last thing he ever expected to see from Belle.
“...And
that's
when I noticed all the books had been reshelved.” she said. “Um…
upside-down.”
Relief washed over him then, and he stifled a laugh. Over the years, Hamish had learned to not be surprised by anything. He’d dealt with a lot of things as Lochdubh’s only police constable– Assault, blackmail, murder. Insurance fraud. Theft. Herding too many sheep abreast.
But upside-down books?
That was new.
And yet… hardly surprising.
Hamish poked his tongue out and scoffed, clapping his hands together. He lowered his head, letting it sink in, and leaned back in his chair. “And you… saw nothing? Heard nothing? Miss French?”
Belle glanced down at the little patch on his sweater, the one that read
POLICE,
and nibbled her lip. Scooting her chair closer, she locked her eyes with his.
“...No, constable.”
Hamish's grin widened and he wet his lips, feeling his heart begin to beat a little more strongly. Belle hadn't called him constable since the night they’d started this apparently star-crossed thing of theirs, and he hadn't expected to enjoy it so much.
He scoffed, scolding himself for it. For starting to fancy himself one of the heroes in his old westerns– coming to the rescue of some pretty lass who needed his help. Belle was no damsel in distress.
Not just because a shelf of upside-down books wasn’t exactly the sort of thing Hamish would consider distressing– but simply because Belle was a clever, resourceful thing who could easily find her way out of any trouble she was likely to find herself in. Sitting across from him the way she was though, eyeing him up and down– he couldn’t help likening her to some femme fatale out of his very own noir detective novel.
He could admit a certain desire to be her hero. It was just that in his fantasies, the threat was usually something a little more exciting than someone shelving books upside-down.
“What's so funny?” she finally asked, sitting up straight and crossing her arms over her chest– and she was no longer the femme fatale then, but just his Belle.
Hamish cleared his throat. “Nothing, Miss French.” he smiled and shook his head. “Nothing at all.”
“Well, I'd certainly hope not.” she said, squaring her shoulders and folding her hands over her lap with an indignant little huff.
“It just seems to me like… the sort of harmless thing bored child would do to pass the time while their mum did some browsing, ye know? You're certain they weren't already upside-down before you locked up the night before?”
Belle fidgeted in her seat slightly. “Well, no. Not that I noticed…”
“And no property was damaged or stolen?”
“No…” she mumbled, and her cheeks grew pink.
Something, somehow, was getting under her skin, then– and Hamish wasn’t sure what. It had been a long time since she’d been this flustered around him though, and he intended to milk it for all he could.
“It's a curious thing, is all.” he shrugged, fighting to keep his smile from growing any wider. “Turning all the books… upside-down.”
She sat up and leaned back in her seat, letting out a sigh. “Well,
perhaps
you might come down and take a look–”
It hit him then, and he snapped his fingers. “What if the upside-down books are just a diversion from the
real
crime?” he thought out loud. “Or a warning? Belle, are you certain nothing else–”
“Hamish,
no.”
she shut down right away.
He stared back and blinked.
Belle was always quick to dismiss worst-case scenarios in favor of looking on the bright side. But this time, the conviction in her voice wasn’t born of hopefulness– it was certainty.
A curious thing, his Belle.
He eased his shoulders. Whatever had happened, she didn’t seem to think it was any cause for concern.
“Look–” Belle said. “Clearly,
whoever it is,
is just trying to get some sort of rise out of me.” she reasoned, lifting her chin. The little pendant resting on her chest glinted in the light, and drew his eye.
He swallowed and rest his elbows on his desk, hunching forward. “So you're saying you've got enemies, Belle?”
She rolled her eyes, and he smiled.
“No.” she sighed. “No one who would go through the trouble of shelving my books upside-down overnight.”
“Well, ye never know.” Hamish shrugged. “Could be a… jealous party? Some… hopelessly infatuated fool, unrequited feelings… lookin’ to get the ah…” he paused and made a point of giving her a once-over. “...pretty librarian’s attention?”
She dismissed the idea with a defeated look.
Hamish sucked his teeth and shrugged. “...Can’t say I’d blame ‘em, is all.” he winked.
Belle hesitated, as if planning her next move, then slowly leaned across the desk again. She brought her hand to her throat and his eyes followed her finger as she dragged it along her neck, hooking it on the neckline of her blouse.
“...Is that right, constable?”
she asked.
His gaze lingered on her cleavage for a moment, and Hamish swallowed hard before tearing it away. Belle was staring him in the eyes and biting her lip, but there was no missing the humored smile she was miserably failing to suppress.
“So remind me–” he coughed and looked down at the notes in front of him. “Other than yourself, who's got keys to the library?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her fold her arms over her chest before heaving a frustrated sigh. “Nobody.” she answered. “Just me–
as you know.”
After a beat, she added, “Well,
and
Esme.”
Hamish have her a sympathetic look. “M’sorry, Belle. Just… formalities, a’right?”
She slouched her shoulders. “Hamish, I could
show you–”
“The thing is, whoever this person is, they may not have stolen or damaged anything, but it's still troubling that they got in. You're certain there wasn't a windae left open or–”
Belle threw a hand over her face and started to giggle, shaking her head.
He dropped his pen and sat up. “...What?” He refused to meet her eyes until she settled down, but he was smiling despite himself– the corners of his mouth pinched in some vain attempt to hide it.
The giggling stopped, and he shot her an impatient look.
Belle leaned across the desk again, wetting her lips, and began to trace her finger along his arm. “You know,
constable…”
she smiled, “perhaps you should come back to the library with
me,
and uh… have a look for yourself? I'm sure there may be some details that I... missed in all the excitement.”
He tilted his head.
“Details we could um… uncover? Together?” she added, wiggling her brows.
He scoffed and shook his head while a smirk tugged at his lips.
She looked up at him with lidded eyes, continuing to stroke his arm. “Perhaps we might find that the upside-down books are... just a diversion after all?”
His cheeks grew warm as he finally caught on, and the crease in his brow was slowly replaced by an amused grin.
Belle nodded, as if reading his mind. “So what do you say? Constable?”
“I… agree wholeheartedly, Miss French.” he said, plucking his pen off the desk and dropping it into its cup. “I think we're wasting our time here.”
Belle smiled and began rising from her seat, smoothing out her skirt.
Hamish cleared his throat pointedly. “Though I
do
have one last question.” he said.
“...If
you'll humor me.”
Belle froze and looked at him with furrowed brows.
“It's just– speaking of forgettin’ things amidst the excitement…” he trailed off and opened the drawer of his desk, reaching inside and bunching a wad of delicate blue lace in his hand. He slowly laid it on the desk, delighting in the indignant look on Belle's face as she recognized her panties.
Settling his elbows in the desk, he clasped his hands together and nodded toward them. “These wouldn't happen to look familiar to you, would they?” he asked. “Miss French?”
Belle pouted, but an playful smile ultimately won out. “...I could ask you the same thing, constable MacBeth.”
His eyes swept over her again slowly, and he grabbed his hat. “...I'll start the truck.”
*****
“I've closed the library to the public today?” Belle said, watching as Hamish swaggered around the library. “Due to the… unforeseen circumstances.”
Hands folded behind his back, he completed his lap around the room, ensuring that all the windows had their shades drawn, and that all the doors were locked– ensuring that for the foreseeable future, they would be blissfully alone.
“Aye.” he coughed. “I see you've uh... already secured the perimeter.” he observed, turning on his heels to face her. “...Wouldn't want anyone to chance by and make a mess of our crime scene, would we?” he winked.
Belle sank her teeth into her bottom lip and shook her head. “No, constable.”
He slowly walked towards her, to where she stood at one of her many bookshelves, and pressed her against it.
Belle swallowed, suddenly feeling pleasantly short of breath.
“...Good.” he said at last, settling his hand on her waist and lowering his head to meet her for a kiss.
Belle slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, parting her lips to his.
Past experience told her to go quickly. She started tugging hungrily at his lips, slipping her tongue past them, trying to get as much of him as she could, as fast as she could.
He made a discouraging sound and pulled away slightly though, urging her to slow down. They took a deep breath together, but before Belle could draw him back in, he paused and let out a scoff.
“What?” Belle asked.
A crooked smirk tugged his lips and he darted a pointed glance behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as he slid a book halfway off the shelf.
“You
actually
took the time to shelve the books upside-down?” he asked, raising a brow.
Belle pursed her lips, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You know... taking shortcuts doesn't come so naturally to all of us,” she said in her defense.
Hamish slid the book back into place and gave a half shrug. “It's cute.” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Belle gave him a sidelong look. “It's cute?”
“Aye.” His grin widened and he nodded. “It's cute.” He cupped her chin, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, and Belle couldn’t help sucking in a breath as his brown eyes met hers. “But I just might have a bit of a thing for fastidious bookworms.” he confessed, pulling her in for another kiss.
“You know–” she stopped him before their lips could meet,
“you’re
cute too.”
“Aye?” He chuckled. “How’s that?”
Belle grinned. “To start?
This.”
she said, tapping a finger on the visor of his hat.
He blinked and raised his brows. “My
hat?”
Belle nodded. “Mhm.”
He shook his head and huffed out a laugh. “It’s part of the uniform, darlin’.” He gave the visor a tug, fitting it snuggly on his head. “Regulation an’ all that.”
“Yes. Because you’ve always been such a stickler for those,” Belle giggled, swiping it off completely. “Rules and regulations, policy, doing things by the book...”
Hamish turned away, and Belle could tell from the rounded apples of his cheeks that he was hiding a smile.
“That’s right,” she teased. “As far as Constable MacBeth is concerned, rules are made to be bent, twisted, and broken. And yet–” she tossed it sits and slid her hands over his shoulders, “His uniform is
always
up to code.”
“Well, it
is
quite a draw for the ladies,” he deflected.
“No, no…” Belle smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s quite it.”
“What’s it then?”
She cupped his face and gently rolled her thumbs over his temples. “I think… somebody likes to fancy themselves one of those wild west sheriffs they read about in their books,” she said. “Puts their uniform on and feels like some tough lawman, catching the bad guys…” she trailed off.
“I don’t know what you’re on about.” he shrugged– but he wasn’t meeting her eyes now, was he?
“It’s cute,” she said, beginning to comb her fingers over the nape of his neck. “Just like the bit of disappointment in your eyes when you realized there was no mysterious library vandal for you to crack down on.”
Hamish licked his bottom lip and scoffed. “See now,
that’s
where you’d be wrong.” he said. He slid his arm around her waist and tugged her against him, and it took the air from her lungs. “I wouldn’t trade you, me, and wee bit of privacy for the world.” he said.
Belle smiled. For all his smooth talking when they'd first met, there was something in his eyes that told her that now, he meant it.
He pressed his lips to hers, taking one quick little sip of her after another.
“Admit it, though–” she hushed between plucks of his lips. “...You were a
little
disappointed.”
His kisses strayed from her mouth as he began to laugh. “Alright,” he sighed. “I might’ve been a
wee
bit disappointed.”
Belle cupped his face in her hands again and smiled, this time brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. Reaching up on her toes, she pecked him on the lips. “I love you.”
His hand wandered down her side, past her hip, and tucked itself beneath the hem of her skirt.
“And I–” he slowly began caressing her thigh, a little smirk playing at his lips. “...love
you.”
Belle pressed her lips together as his hand slid further up her skirt. It brushed between her legs and she pressed her thighs together reflexively.
With the reminder of just what they were doing sequestered in the closed library, Belle kicked her heels off. Adjusting her weight slightly, she supported herself against the bookshelf so she could open up her legs up to him.
“What?” Hamish asked. “That’s it? Not gonnae take a few more jabs at the uniform first?”
“Oh, I've got a jab for the uniform alright,” she laughed.
He raised his brows expectantly.
Belle reached for his belt and nibbled her lip.
“...take it off.”
He dropped his jaw in feigned shock, and she giggled again.
“Oh, don't you act coy
now,”
she teased.
Belle slipped her fingers under the waist of his pants and untucked his sweater. She slid her hands up his torso and he lifted his arms so she could pull it over his shoulders. The heavy fabric dropped to the floor, and Belle moved onto the crisp white shirt underneath. His undershirt came next, and Belle slid her hands over his chest, brushing her thumbs over his nipples.
He shuddered from the touch, and Belle watched with parted lips as his abdomen twitched in response.
His hand slid over hers and he pulled it away, setting it at her side.
“No?” she asked, tilting her head.
Hamish smiled. “No, no…” he whispered, leaning into her ear and burying his face in her hair. He tugged her blouse out from where it was tucked into her skirt began working at the buttons. “Just making sure you're playing fair.” he said, and pushed it off of her shoulders.
His breath ghosted over her neck, and Belle's hair stood on its ends. She shook out her arms, letting her blouse drop to the floor, and rolled her head to the side.
Kisses landed on her temple, on her cheek, and on her throat. They started to meander to her chest, down her sternum– but Belle knew where she wanted them next. She reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and pulling her arms out from the straps until it dropped to the floor between them.
A whimper escaped her when his lips made contact and began to suck her gently. His hand tugged the hem of her skirt up, and then the waist of her panties down, down, down.
Belle writhed against him, wiggling her hips in some vain attempt to get them off faster. At long last, they fell to her ankles, and the touch of Hamish's hand as it slid over her vulva reduced her to heavy pants.
She was wet, and his fingers moved effortlessly against her. He released her nipple from his lips, dragging them up her throat and over her ear.
“Is this what you want, Belle?” he whispered, continuing to stroke her.
Her leg lifted up seemingly on its own in response, and Belle drew a sharp gasp at how much more intense the simple adjustment made it all feel.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes,”
she answered breathlessly, drawing her leg up higher. She turned her head to face him, and pulled him in for a kiss, biting and tugging at his lips with all the fervor that was building between her legs.
They pulled apart out of necessity. With their foreheads pressed together, they paused to catch their breath. His brown eyes bore into hers, and Belle slowly swept her gaze down his chest, down to the tenting in his trousers. Wetting her lips, she let her hand drop down from his shoulder and grasped his belt buckle.
Hamish let out a scoff and did the work of unfastening it. The buckle clinked against itself as they hastily pulled the strap of leather from its loops. It, too, dropped to the floor, and Belle wasted no time unzipping him and pushing his trousers and boxers past his hips– finding him hot and pink and hard.
She looked him in the eyes, smiling, and gave a slight nod.
He grasped his cock, slowly lined himself up at her entrance, and carefully pushed inside, closing his eyes and letting out a moan.
She pressed her lips together, adjusting to the way he felt inside her. Draping her arm over his shoulder, she scraped her fingertips through the tight crop of his hair and pulled him in for another kiss.
Hamish didn't try to slow her down this time– instead opening up wide to her, letting her tongue slip over his own and stroke his palate. He exhaled heavily, and his hips began to move against hers.
“Yes,”
Belle whispered, pressing herself against him and slinging her leg around his hip. A book fell from the shelf and they paused for a moment, snorting and sharing a laugh– but after a beat, he started to move again. His thrusts were slow, but deep, and the tension inside her grew at a pace that was maddening.
His hand cupped her bottom and slid along her thigh before hooking under her leg and tugging it higher, pulling her closer. Something ignited in her then, and Belle tightened around him. She threw her head back and gasped, falling out of rhythm with him as he continued to roll his hips into her, quickening his pace.
“That's it,” he whispered. “Come on…”
The tension coiled further and Belle arched into him. Her thoughts vanished, her nerves tingled, and it seemed that all her body was capable of in that moment was pulling him closer, gripping him tighter, grinding against him faster.
He buried his face in her neck, and his own thrusts grew into sporadic, jerking movements. There was another thud as a second book fell from the shelf, but they were too breathless, too far into their pleasure for disruptions.
Belle was getting so terribly close to the edge, and deep moan sounded from her throat. They'd become rough and messy, and there was sweat, and panting breaths, and suddenly– finally– that great burst of light she'd been so desperate for. She clutched at his shoulders, holding on tight until his own burst of light followed and her name fell from his lips.
Sated, Belle slumped against him. Hamish caught her in his arms, but she couldn't help noticing how rigid he felt. She looked up at him, finding his eyes focused ahead, and turned around.
There was the thudding of more books as they fell off the shelves and onto the ground, and before her eyes could process what she was seeing, her ears heard the banging of the shelf as it tipped over, knocking into the next.
She winced, and Hamish tugged her closer, as if to protect her from the destruction.
“...Oh no.” she gasped.
One by one, like dominos, each bookshelf banged into the next culminating in one giant crash as the last shelf hit the floor.
Books littered the room, the shelves rising it of the rubble like ancient ruins. They began coughing on the dust that had moments ago been settled between the hundreds of thousands of pages, and was now floating in the air.
“Well–” he cleared his throat. “At least we weren't interrupted.”
Belle looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I’m going to have to reshelve
everything!”
He shrugged. “As I recall, you were the dafty who shelved them all upside-down. Wis gonnae have to do that anyway.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t reshelve the
entire library,”
she grumbled, glaring at him as she tugged her skirt back down. “It was just one bookcase!”
There was a sound then, and they froze.
Slowly, they turned their heads, following the sound to the front of the library. To the front door.
Someone was unlocking it.
“Oh, you’ve
got
to be taking the piss.” Hamish said under his breath.
The door swung open, letting in a beam of sunlight– and Esme.
She had her back turned as she pulled the key from the lock and put down the door stop, but there were no shelves to hide behind, no place to take cover– and so they just stood still as the schoolteacher spun around.
“Oh!”
she gasped, bringing her hand to her throat.
“Miss Murray.” Hamish greeted her with a smile, as if nothing was wrong.
Esme nodded slowly, taking in their state of undress. “...Hamish.” she said.
“...Belle.”
“Good afternoon.” Belle managed politely, clearing her throat.
“Esme.”
A shadow stretched from outside the front door, and Belle’s eyes bulged in mortification.
Esme gasped and looked over her shoulder. “Rory, why don’t you wait out–”
But it was too late.
The shopkeeper stepped inside carrying a box, which he promptly dropped.
“Oh.”
Hamish coughed and put his hand on Belle's shoulder. “Miss French here brought something to my attention earlier that ah… warranted some investigation.” he said by way of explanation. “And there... may have been a wee accident.”
“Hardly what I'd call
wee...”
Esme said quietly, her eyes lingering a little too high for her to be referring to the fallen shelves.
Rory flushed and rolled his eyes.
Hamish put a hand over himself, then quickly bent down and plucked his hat off the ground to use instead.
“Belle.” Esme continued, “I was just coming by to pick up those textbooks. For the... new year.”
“Oh.” Belle said. “You… didn’t call.”
“Aye,” she said. “I’ll be sure to do that. Next time.”
“Oh– No, no!” Belle laughed and shook her head, covering her breasts as the shock wore off and her modesty sank in. “See, it’s not like– this isn’t a regular–”
“No need to explain, dear.” Esme cut her off. “We’ll just… come back later.” she smiled. “How’s… five o’clock sound?”
“Great.” Hamish nodded. “Belle? Five o’clock?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Esme.” Rory chuckled. “Leave the kids to their fun. We can come back tomorrow.” he said. A grin slowly spread across his face and he winked.
“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” Hamish agreed, gesturing at him. “Eh, Belle?” Tomorrow?”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the embarrassment wash over her. “Yes, that… Tomorrow would be great.”
“Well, Rory...” Esme said, nodding toward the box he’d dropped. He bent down to pick it up and slipped out the door without another word. She slowly paced backwards after him, taking a moment to kick the door stop back up. “Well, good luck with the ah...
investigation.”
she smiled, and disappeared out the door.
“Oh my God...” Belle groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Wisnae so bad, I think,” Hamish shrugged. “Still could’ve been worse.”
Belle scoffed.
“How?”
“Could’ve been interrupted.” he said again.
She began plucking her clothes off the floor, muttering under her breath. Something just
had
to go wrong. Every time.
“Hey hey hey hey–” Hamish stammered. “What are ye doing?”
Belle shot him a exasperated look, gesturing around the mess they’d made.
“They said they’ll not be back until tomorrow.” He looked at the clock on the wall for a moment and shrugged.
“Plenty of time for another round.”