Off Kilter (21 page)

“I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. Look at us, we’re all wrapped around each other because we’re like two force fields or something. Maybe that makes it too combustible for you. I get that, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to help you anyway.”

“Why?” she asked, honestly stymied.

“Because, when you smiled that first time, during the photo shoot for the calendar, it transformed you. You’ve smiled a bit more since. While you were shooting the wedding, you were more relaxed than I’ve seen you yet. And maybe the longer you’re here, distracted from the world you left behind, you’ll find it a more natural thing to do. That can’t be a bad thing. For you. Specifically, for you.

“If you could see what’s in your eyes, Tessa. You’re angry, and you’re defensive—understandable on both counts—but your eyes … they’re … they’re haunted. Then you smile like that and the shadows disappear and I’m captivated by that woman who’s in there, behind the shadows, behind the fear.”

She didn’t know what to say to any of that. Much less how
to feel about it. “I’m the one with the trained eye. And yet you see things …” She trailed off. “I don’t get you. I don’t get this. People don’t do this. Not without an agenda.” “Some people do. Not everyone has an agenda.” “They do in my world.”

“Then maybe you should spend a little more time in mine.”

I
t wasn’t like the last time they’d stood in that exact spot.

Then he’d had no real sense of what—or who—he wanted. Well, he had, but he hadn’t fully admitted it to himself, much less made a decision on what to do about it or how to handle it.

After significant time spent thinking about it, he knew exactly who he wanted and what he intended to do about it. He was going to find a way to lower Tessa’s defenses. Shatter them if possible. Kissing her right off had seemed like the way to go. Or maybe it was just that, when she opened the door, kissing her was all he could think about.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she was doing her damnedest to shove him away, but she was going to have to shove a bit harder. If she wasn’t willing to accept his advances man to woman, so be it. For a while, anyway. He’d need a bit more convincing before he agreed that the spark between them wasn’t worth pursuing. Limitations be damned. But that didn’t mean he had to give up becoming her friend. From where he stood, she could use a few more of those.

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said. That had been part of his plan, too. Actually, that had
been
his plan. All of the rest … seemed to happen when they got within two feet of each other.

“Drive? The island isn’t that big. We could almost jog it.”

“I thought we could scout locations for the calendar photographs.”

“Is there snow somewhere on Kinloch that I’m not aware of?”

He smiled. “We’ll improvise. Come on, if nothing else, it gets us out and away from whatever is on our respective desks and—”

“I was hoping to get more of the wedding photos developed and put together to give to Katie and Graham when they get back tonight. I still have a ton to go through.”

“I dinnae think that will be the first thing they’ll be thinking about the moment they return. Surely the photos can wait one more day. You and I have a more critical deadline. We can get out, drive a bit, and brainstorm on how to meet the needs of the calendar people.”

“You’re awfully pushy for someone who’s basically bumming a favor off me in the first place.”

“That’s why I’m good at my job.”

“What, exactly, is your job, anyway?”

He backed slowly away from her and the door, snagging her hand at the last possible second, and tugged her forward. “Come with me and I’ll explain while we drive.”

“Better be a short conversation. We’ll have lapped the island twenty minutes from now.”

“See,” he said, “then it won’t take up much of your precious time.”

“You’re incorrigible.” But she let him pull her with him to his lorry.

“Yet another good attribute to have in my line of work.”

“I should go tell Kira I’m taking off.”

“She’s weaving, aye?”

Tessa nodded.

“She willnae even know you’re gone, most likely.”

The truth of that was clear on Tessa’s face. He grinned, and added, “Stop trying so bloody hard to come up with a reason to no’ spend time out of your cave, conversing with the little people.”

“You’re hardly the little people.”

His grin spread even wider as he opened the passenger door. “Glad you noticed.”

“I’m not keeping my own company because I think you or the other islanders are somehow beneath my notice and you know it.”

“I do know it, which is why I’m working so hard here to get you to come out and play. To remind you of that, too.”

“I like it in my cave.”

“And you can go straight back to it when we’re done. A friend would get you out of your darkroom isolation at least part of the time, show you what you’re missing, remind you that being in the land of the living, with other living things, is no’ so bad after all.”

She climbed into the lorry, a bit of a scowl on her face. “Why couldn’t you have decided to do this with Kira? Latch on to her. She could use a friend. One just like you, for that matter.”

“She can come along next time.”

She shot him a quelling look. “You’re missing the point.”

He grinned. “I know.” He closed the door and he scooted around to the other side before she could get out and stalk back inside the croft. He even understood her consternation. If Graham, or Shay, or anyone else had tried such heavy-handed tactics with him when he wanted to be left alone, he’d be doing a lot more than scowling and grumbling. But the fact was, he had a Shay and a Graham in his life. And a Katie—even a Blaine. Not to mention a couple hundred other people, who reminded him, daily, why it was he lived there and loved being there, even on those days—especially, maybe, on those days—when he questioned everything.

In the end, he could grumble and scowl all he wanted. It wouldn’t stop Graham, or Shay, or even Katie, from doing what they thought was best for him. That’s what friends did. And he always got that—at some point.

He climbed in the driver’s side and closed the door, glancing over at Tessa as he settled himself and turned the key in the ignition. Arms folded, gaze set straight ahead, she was quite obviously
intent on merely putting up with his shenanigans only as long as it took to get right back again.

He put the truck into gear. “Oh, you’ll want your camera.” He shifted back to park, but she was already hopping out. “Wait, I can—”

“It’s just in the back of Kira’s car. I was out yesterday … using it.” She reached in the driver’s side and popped the boot on the small Fiat, grabbed a padded black canvas gear bag, then shut it and climbed back in the truck.

He wanted to ask her what she’d been shooting, anything to strike up a conversation, thinking maybe getting her talking about her passion would be a good idea. But she was already settled once again, gaze straight ahead, arms folded, her shield up. He supposed he should be happy when she’d gotten out to grab her camera that she hadn’t raced back into the croft and locked the door. No, she’d come along. Grudgingly. But she’d come along.

He smiled to himself as he backed out of the courtyard and onto the track road.
Fine,
he thought, that was fine. For a start. He’d just do his damnedest to make sure by the time they got back, she’d have had a bit of a break, seen some lovely sights, and perhaps had a chance to chat a bit. Blow off steam, ask questions, or just get outside her own head for a few minutes. He was bold enough and arrogant enough to think it would do her good.

Guess they were going to find out.

He took the northern track, away from the village and into the higher elevations at the other end of the island, where the fortress was nestled between the biggest peaks, and the flax crops grew in the protected valley below.

“So,” she said, a few minutes into the drive, “tell me about your job.”

A quick glance proved she was still sitting, arms folded, staring out the front, certainly not looking at him. But she was instigating the conversation. He appreciated the effort.

Maybe it was the journalist in her, maybe she was truly curious
about him, or maybe she was simply killing time. It didn’t matter.

“The kind of weaving we do here is a traditional, but unique, form of basketry that uses a spun linen thread, made from the flaxseed plant, then waxed in order to give it a binding texture. The threads come in various ply widths and are dyed in a number of colors, all natural dyes from organic material here on the island. The various ply widths, the range of colors, along with other organic material like handmade beads, willow branches, pine needles, can all be woven into the intricate patterns.

“There are baskets, bowls, trays. Initially they were strictly for functional use, and were just one of many kinds of weaving done on Kinloch. Many people might still use waxed linen woven trays and baskets that way, but they are small, and retain a certain flexibility because they’re made of thread rather than reed or willow. It is very much an artisan craft now, popular mainly as collectible works of folk art. Many are considered gallery quality, even museum quality. Our baskets now are far from the cruder weaving done by our forebears centuries ago. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that if you buy a Kinloch basket, much like if you buy Harris tweed, you are guaranteed a product that is one hundred percent handmade, including the thread from which it’s woven, created on this island, in the home of the weaver, using only organic material found and processed on Kinloch.”

Tessa nodded. “Kira has told me a lot about the history. It’s fascinating that the craft has sustained itself all these years. Amazing, really. How did you get involved in marketing the baskets? How was it done before you came along?”

“Historically, being so remote, we relied on word of mouth, mostly. With a reputation spanning hundreds of years, a large part of my job has long been done. Word has spread pretty far and wide. Our baskets are very well known all over the U.K. Word has trickled on throughout Europe, but not in any substantial, established, ongoing way. I was the one who thought to use new technology to establish ourselves as a global presence.
Some of the work done here, most notably by your best mate, are true works of art. Kira, in particular, uses ancient Gaelic and Celtic patterns, along with meaningful clan symbolism, but with newer shapes, and she incorporates unusual and nontraditional organic material into the mix. It’s really pushing the craft in a new direction, and she’s already attracted a distinct, relatively new group of buyers.”

Tessa nodded and appeared to think about that for a moment or two, then asked, “So … are you responsible for marketing, creating the catalog, getting the word out?”

“I do all those things, yes, but I also manage our accounts, finding the best shipping routes and rates, growing the client base directly. I don’t do the packaging and actual movement of the baskets from the weavers to the ferry and onward, but I oversee it, as well as the traffic the work brings to Kinloch.”

“You mean tourism?”

“Aye. Kinloch is a lovely enough island, but too isolated to be a direct vacation spot of any kind. But the weaving and the history behind it bring artists, crafters, and collectors from all over, who are interested in seeing the process from start to finish.”

“So you’re the tour guide as well.”

“Something like that. I keep myself busy, at any rate.” He glanced over at her and flashed a smile when she finally looked his way. “No’ too bad for a man who lives off his charm and good looks.”

She had the grace to look a wee bit abashed. “I’ve apologized for that, you know. Who had the job before you?”

“No one in particular. We’ve always operated as a co-op of sorts, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t until recently that we’ve laid out a more regulated system and spelled out the terms of how it all works legally. Shay was largely responsible for that part, along with Graham. Prior to that, the weavers more or less worked on it together. It wasn’t really a cohesively managed unit, and as a result, we suffered.”

“What changed that? Was it Graham’s direction? I understand
he’s only recently become the chief, with the wedding being the formal crowning, of sorts.”

“Formally, yes, but, with Ualraig’s declining health, he’s been functionally leading us for a very long time. It was actually the blight that attacked the crops earlier on during Ualraig’s reign as chief, and put us on the brink of complete ruin that eventually forced us to evolve entirely.

“Graham went off to university with the idea of learning new farming technologies in order to make our crop more resilient and consistent. I went off as well, to Edinburgh, with the idea that there had to be a better way to manage the business end. I’d always had a certain affinity and avid curiosity for computers and global connectivity. It seemed a good fit. And it was. Is.”

“So you both left to get an education for the sole purpose of coming back and helping the island prosper.”

“Is that so hard to comprehend?”

“Not at all. I had always thought my life would be something similar. Kira and I had markedly different paths mapped out from the ones we ended up taking. In fact, I suppose we’re both at a crossroads of sorts again, with a future that’s perhaps not what we might have had in mind.”

A glance in her direction showed she was looking at him. The studied disinterest was gone, and she seemed truly caught up in the conversation.

Brilliant,
he thought, quite happily.
Very good.

“While you were away at school, were you tempted by the bigger world out there?” she asked, before he could follow up on some of the things she’d alluded to. “Did you consider not coming back?”

“No. I knew where my future was.”

“Nothing tempted you about the big city?”

He grinned. “If you mean was I caught up in the allure of big city women, I certainly enjoyed my time there. But it was always with the knowledge that I’d come back. I’d have happily brought someone home with me, but that wasn’t to be.”