I really don't want to talk to Declan Breslin. The last time I officially spoke to him, after all, was approximately two minutes before I ran out of his flat clutching my friend's watch. After I'd oh-so-briefly let him believe he had succeeded in his seduction attempt. And, even though  I didn't actually even touch him that night, I still cringe at the very memory.

I knew there was a chance I'd have to interact with him tonight, but I didn't actually expect him to be on the charm offensive, given our recent history. However, I very quickly realise what's going on: I'm the one who got away! I'm therefore a challenge, and Declan has always loved the chase.

What he still doesn't seem to realise, though -  despite the fact I've already rejected him once -  is that I would never ever go there. I mean . . . Ew! He's my sister's ex, for a start. He led her on repeatedly and officially broke up with her two seconds after having sex with her . . . Then, he kept messing with her head and trying to stop her from moving on! He may be a good-looking charmer, but I know what he really is . . . A smarmy self-centred twat who only thinks about his own needs, and doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

"So what brings you to Oban, Declan?" I ask sharply, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. "Did you run out of girls to mess around with in Glasgow? Are they all finally on to your games?"

He smirks. "Oh, don't be like that, Lou! I thought we were friends." He takes a sip of his beer, lazing back in his chair. "I'm just travelling around a bit at the moment and performing where I can; moving on to Fort William in a couple of days. Trying to get myself out there more as a musician, you know?"

"Yeah, heading to the Highlands is a good idea," I muse, pushing a hand through my hair. "Lots of wide open space where your massive ego might finally fit."

The insult barely registers as he laughs and fixes me with what I recognise as his "come to bed" eyes. "I always did enjoy our little chats," he says. "That sharp tongue of yours is one of your many attractive qualities."

I suspect he thinks this conversation is some form of foreplay and that realisation is horrifying. I need to wind this up before he starts suggesting what else I could do with my tongue!

I stand. (I realise this might sound ridiculous, but I feel I need to be taller if I want him to take me seriously.) "Declan, let me make it perfectly clear: I'm not going to have sex with you. Not now, not ever. "

"You don't mean that," he says confidently. His arrogance is quite something, really. I shake my head firmly.

"I do. Put it this way . . . Even you were the absolute last man on earth, I'd just have to let human existence die out."

He frowns as my words finally start to sink in. "So why did you come back to my flat that night?"

I'm getting a distinct feeling of deja vu by this point, and no bloody wonder . . . This reminds me a lot of the conversation I had with Mitch not so long ago. Apparently, I just can't escape toxic men, no matter how far I run!

"So I could get my friend's watch for her, of course! Did you think I just got cold feet? I had no intention of sleeping with you."

He looks even more irritated now; that ego is clearly more-than-a-little dented by my brutal honesty. And so he changes tack. "That was my watch," he says.

The liar!

"First of all, it was clearly a girl's watch!" Frustration wells up within me for the second time in less than ten minutes. "And you have never worn a watch in the entire time I've known you anyway. You're late for everything and apparently operate on Declan Standard Time!"

"I want back what's mine," he says stubbornly. Since he's finally realised he can't have me, he clearly still needs to find a win somehow. He's now on his feet, too, but I'm not scared; he may be a twat, but I know he doesn't have a violent bone in his body.

"I have nothing of yours," I remind him. "The watch is back with Lucie where it belongs. Don't worry, though: you still have all your other ill-gotten girl jewelery to console yourself with!"

Declan's mouth opens again, obviously determined to argue further, but a calm voice from behind us cuts in before he can.

"Is there a problem here?"

We both whirl around to see Brody standing there. It's nice to see him without Rowan stuck to his side; gives me a chance to really appreciate his tanned forearms, shown off to their full advantage in his pale blue shirt with the sleeves pushed up. Drool. He folds aforementioned arms across his chest now, glaring at Declan confrontationally.

"There's no problem at all." I say, although I'm secretly happy for some back-up. "Declan was just leaving," I add pointedly.

"I don't think so; I left my guitar in there," he argues, moving towards the door. Brody steps in front of him. They're probably about the same height, but Brody has muscles while Declan has noodles, so the latter almost immediately backs off. I barely stifle a nervous giggle.

"You're staying at the Bay Inn, right?" Brody asks, and I can hear the faint threat in his voice clear as day. "I'll drop the guitar off to you there tomorrow morning. So there's absolutely no reason for you not to leave immediately."

Despite the definite metaphorical chill in the air, I can feel my body heating up considerably: I haven't witnessed Protective Brody before, and I like it way more than I want to. Especially since I'm the one he's playing guard dog to. And, just like the slightest glimmer of sunshine on a bleak autumn day, the tiniest sliver of hope starts to unfurl within me. Maybe all is not lost, after all?

Declan huffs out an angry sign. "Fine," he concedes. "I'd watch out for her, though," he tells Brody before he walks away, shooting me one final glare. "She steals."

Oh, for goodness sake! Thanks for making me look even worse, Declan!

Brody's eyes narrow at that parting line, and eternal autumn returns. "So, did Coral actually get any references for you before she hired you?" His tone is mild. "Or was she just going on vibes?"

Is he being a dickhead, or is there the slightest bit of humour behind his words? It's almost impossible to tell, but I'm in no mood for banter anyway. At this point, I think I'm pretty much completely done with the male of the species. They're exhausting!

"I'm not a thief," I say defeatedly. "I'm sure you won't believe that, though."

He turns to look at Declan's retreating figure, rubbing thoughtfully at his stubble as he considers his response. "The jury's still out," he finally replies. "But I already know I don't like that guy, so I'm also not instantly going to take his word on anything."

Phew.

"Well, um . . . Thanks for stepping in there," I say tentatively. Our gazes lock together, an emotion I can't quite define flashing in those aquamarine irises. And, just for a second, I'm taken back to our first meeting. . . to the spark that danced so temptingly between us. To the possibility of something.

Then he shrugs, face hardening back into an impassive mask, and the moment has passed once again. "Coral was the one who asked me to come out and check on the situation, but you're welcome." Handing me Declan's empty glass, he opens the door, and gestures me forward. "Are you coming back inside now?"

Ah . . . So he only did it because he was told to do it. Disappointment cools me right back down, slapping me directly in the face like ice cold water."I could have handled him myself, you know," I can't resist adding as I duck under his arm.

"Oh yeah? What were you going to do?" His voice, gruff with sarcasm, is warm on the back of my neck. "Point your binoculars at him?"

Argh!

"Well, it scared you off, didn't it?" I throw at him before I storm towards the bar.

And I could be entirely mistaken, but I'm also almost certain that when I glance quickly over my shoulder, there's a reluctant glimmer of a grin pulling at his mouth.

Hmm . . . So what are we thinking?🤔