“As I expected.” Dougal turned toward the door. “Don’t forget the Christmas napkins,” he said before leaving.
When Bernadette popped her head around the door a minute later, Agnes hadn’t moved.
“I’m about to finish for the day,” the receptionist said. “Do you need anything?”
“You don’t happen to have twenty-three Christmas jumpers I could borrow, do you? Dougal needs them for the morning.”
“Eh, no. I don’t even have one.”
“Never mind, I’ll think of something.” It was late on Thursday afternoon. She’d spent the day dealing with one stupid crisis after another, on barely any sleep. And now, an hour before the shops close, her boss tells her he wants Christmas jumpers for everyone to wear the following morning. It actually seemed kind of funny that her career would end because she couldn’t get Christmas jumpers in time.
“Well, if that’s all?” Bernadette said, backing up. “I’ll leave you to it.”
And then she closed the door behind her.
There was nothing Agnes could do but put her head back on the desk and groan.
Where was she going to find Christmas jumpers now?
Chapter 17
When Logan opened his door at eight o’clock on Thursday evening, he wasn’t expecting to find Agnes standing there.
“I know things are over between us,” she said, “but I need…help.”
That last word seemed to stick in her throat some. Logan folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. This, he had to hear, but, first, there was another little matter that needed clearing up. “Things aren’t over between us. I was trying to give you some space. You seemed to need it.”
If glares could kill, he’d have been dead on his doorstep. “I kicked you out. That implies things are over.”
“You freaked out because the sex was”—he formed air quotes around his next words—“too good.”
“I didn’t freak out. I told you clearly that this thing between us has no future and, therefore, can’t continue.”
“Say what you like, but we both know there was definite freaking out involved.” Logan folded his arms again.
She’d added teeth gritting to her glaring now. “Let’s leave that for now and deal with the reason I’m here.”
“That reason being that you need…?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Help.” Agnes forced the word through clenched teeth.
“Was that so hard to say? I’ve seen criminals have less trouble confessing their guilt.”
“Will you help me or not?”
Logan threw the door wide. “Aye, seeing as you asked so nicely, I’ll help. Come on in.”
“Wait.” She pointed behind her. “I need to get stuff out of the car.”
“Since when do you have a car?”
“Since I had to hire one to get to and from Fort William this evening.” She turned and stomped back to the car. Which, by the looks of it, was one of the Davidson brothers’ old bangers that they rented out for extra cash. He was surprised the wreck had made it to Fort William and back.
Curious, he followed her to the boot, which she opened by thumping it with her fists.
“Don’t say anything,” Agnes threatened.
“I wouldn’t dare.” But nothing could stop him grinning.