Echoes of Scotland Street (On Dublin Street 5)

“I don’t need a lot.” I tried to peek into the flat. My reservations over moving in with this seemingly crazy woman were abated somewhat by the parquet flooring I could see beyond her.

Rae seemed to contemplate this for a moment and I suddenly found myself uncomfortable with the fact that I had very little in the way of possessions. It didn’t occur to me until now that that might invite questions as to why. Most people had loads of crap to their name.

“Okay.” Rae shrugged and bent down to pick up a box. “Let’s get this shit inside before my nipples freeze off.”

Charming.

I huffed out air between my lips and followed her inside.

My new colleague and now flatmate hadn’t been lying. The flat was nice. It had a decent-sized modern kitchen, a small but cozy sitting room with a balcony off it, and two good-sized double rooms. We shared a bathroom, but it was almost as big as the kitchen, so I wasn’t complaining. After dumping my boxes in my room, Rae left me to unpack.

Once I’d unpacked my measly amount of clothing into a wardrobe from IKEA, I began unpacking my sketch pads, pencils, and charcoals. Not wanting anyone, as in Rae, to see my work, I shoved it under the bed. I was standing there holding my current sketch pad when the door to my bedroom flew open. Heart in my throat, I dropped to my knees and slid the pad under the bed before Rae could see it.

I looked up to find Rae frozen in my doorway carrying a cup that had steam rising out of the top of it. She took in the sight of me on my knees and grinned. “No need to worry about hiding your vibrators, Shannon. You’ll probably hear mine through the wall. I have the Rabbit. It’s a classic for a reason you know.” She thrust the cup out at me. “Tea. I guessed milk and two sugars.”

Still flustered and a little stunned, I stood up and reached for the tea she’d made just how I liked it. “Thanks,” I mumbled, feeling like an idiot.

Rae smirked and left the room, closing the door behind her.

My shoulders slumped as I turned to stare at my hidden artwork. I felt my throat close with emotion, mostly frustration, that I’d been reduced to acting like a bumbling fool in order to hide my art from people. I never used to hide. I never used to act like this.

Not until . . .

“Why do you bother with that crap? It’s not like you’re any good at it.”

“And what do you know about art?”

“Enough to know you’ve not got any talent, babe.”

The memories flooded me, zapping my energy, and I stumbled to the bed. Staring at the blank wall in front of me, I tried to fight them back, the hand not holding the hot cup of tea curled so tight into a fist my fingernails bit into my skin.

*   *   *

Once I got my emotions under control, I finished packing and decided to get acquainted with my new flatmate. I didn’t want Rae to think I was antisocial, although perhaps she would prefer it if I was. I’d find out soon enough.

Instead of Rae, I found Cole in the sitting room. I almost tripped over my feet at the sight of him on the armchair near the balcony, his right ankle hooked over his left knee. My eyes drank in his long-limbed body before I could stop myself. When they eventually traveled upward, Cole was staring at me with this knowing, cocky little grin on his lips.

His very, very kissable lips.

Man, he was annoying.

“Thought you might want to join a few of us for a drink to celebrate the job and the flat.”

Processing how comfortable and at ease Cole seemed in Rae’s flat, I felt my eyes narrowing as they scanned the room. They stopped on a large black digital photo frame. Every few seconds the picture would change and in among pictures of Rae with people I had never met were lots of pictures of Rae, Cole, Simon, and some Italian-looking bloke I could only assume was Tony.

Bugger.

Rae and Cole weren’t just colleagues; they were friends. All of them were good friends. This meant I not only had to dodge Cole at work but I had to bloody well dodge him in my own home.

He was beyond annoying.

“I’m kind of tired,” I said, looking anywhere but at him.

“Rubbish!”

This came from Rae. I turned around as she strode into the sitting room now dressed in jeans, a Celine Dion T-shirt that seemed incongruous to her personality, and a black leather jacket. “Get your shoes on,” she said. “You’re bloody well coming with us.”

“I don’t think—”

“Bollocks to whatever you’re going to say.”

Assessing her authoritative tone and demeanor, I didn’t take long to surmise that I was not getting out of this. Instead of glaring at Rae, I shot a glower at Cole. “You knew exactly what I was getting into and didn’t do a thing to stop me.” I stomped out of the room, ignoring the delicious sound of Cole’s laughter.

*   *   *

I was introduced to identical twins Grant and Patrick and Grant’s girlfriend, Karen. They were Cole’s friends from art school and Rae had adopted them too. Grant and Karen owned a small gallery and a professional photography business. Patrick was working toward qualifying as an architect. They were all very friendly and welcoming, but the uneasiness I felt as we joined them in Rae’s local pub, the Walk, wouldn’t dissipate. I felt I had no one to blame but Cole.

As soon as we sat down, Cole somehow finagled it so he was sitting next to me in the booth that curved around the table. Almost immediately he pressed his thigh against mine. With Rae squashed in on my other side, there was nowhere to go and no way to remove myself from physical contact with Cole.