Ullapool, Scottish Highlands

Dimples are just fucking adorable, aren't they? I once read somewhere that they are actually a flaw; their existence is due to the irregular growth of one of the face muscles . . . Dimples, therefore, truly must be one of the happiest anomalies in existence.

At least, that's all I can think later today, as the five of us sit outside the pub, and I watch Owen laughing with Nessa about . . . Something. Christ, I really do need to start paying better attention. But that dimpled grin is ridiculously distracting.

We've made it to Ullapool, a picturesque village on the west of the North Coast 500 route. Despite its small size, it's probably the largest place we've visited since leaving Inverness on Monday morning. I'm almost not used to having this many people around me anymore.

The table we're seated at is at the edge of a pretty sea loch by the name of Loch Broom, and it's really quite relaxing to watch the ferries dock and reload, slowly leading passengers away to some of Scotland's most remote islands. For the first time, I wonder what it would be like to be one of those passengers. I bet the Outer Hebrides are beautiful. Briefly, I find myself entertaining a new Owen-related fantasy . . . But this one involves us hopping on a boat together to visit these places rather than writhing about naked in bed.

What is wrong with me?

"So where would you like to go tomorrow, folks?" Owen asks us now. As we're staying here for two nights, it gives us more of an opportunity to explore the area directly surrounding Ullapool. "If you want more beach time, there are a few good ones nearby."

"Are they as pretty as Balnakeil was?" Debbie challenges. "Because I can't imagine that."

His smile widens cheekily. "I know it seems impossible, but the beach down at Mellon Udrigle is something pretty special too."

So are you, Owen Sullivan, I think. So are you.

He catches me watching him, and the grin slides right off his face, dimples retreating and eyes briefly darkening to a dark burning bronze shade. Our gazes hold for the shortest of moments,  but it feels like all of my internal organs compact together at the intense expression on his face. Then he snaps out of it as if realising he's zoned out on his own conversation.

Seems I'm not the only person who's having trouble concentrating.

"Red Point Beach, too," he adds hurriedly, rubbing awkwardly at his face. I do love when he blushes. "It's probably a little far to go tomorrow, but we can take a detour there en route to Torridon on Friday."

"That other beach you said sounds good; I'd be up for that anyway," I say quickly. I've already forgotten the name of it - Melanie Uglier? Nah, that can't be right.

"Can we also make a pitstop at Corrieshalloch Gorge?" Nessa asks. "I'd like to see the waterfall there." That girl loves a good waterfall.

He nods. "Sure. It's not far from here, so we can easily visit there on the way."

"Yay." She checks her watch. "Oops, it's nearly time for dinner! We'd better get a move on."

"Sure you're all gonna be able to eat?" I can't resist a dig at my friends. "Your stomachs all settled after last night's mystery illness?"

Michelle barely hides her smile as she rubs her tummy gingerly. "It was touch and go for a while, but I think we're all back to normal now."

"How convenient." Owen shoots the ghost of a wink in my direction, one side of his mouth curling in a smirk. Why does he have to be so damn cute?

We head inside for dinner. This time, I end up next to Owen rather than opposite him. Once again, I'm pretty sure this is the way the girls have plotted it.

I remember Nessa complaining on the train journey up to Fort William about forgetting her Kindle - she'd been halfway through a romance novel and was desperate to see how it turned out. I can't help but feel like she's decided to recreate her own love story for entertainment by using me and Owen as her main characters. I guess the tropes in question would be forced proximity and sort-of second chance romance, in our case. Oh, and let's not forget grumpy x sunshine - with me being the grump, obviously.

And, I'd like to say that she has no control over her main characters, but I'm pretty sure we're about to play right into her puppeteer hands anyway.

I vow to remind her again that she can download the Kindle app on her phone and keep reading her book that way. Maybe then she wouldn't be so invested in my non-existent love life.

It's time to think about food, I tell myself, flipping the menu open and trying to ignore the heat of Owen's thigh mere millimetres from mine. It feel like I'm way overdue some dairy, so I decide to double-fromage it tonight with a goat's cheese starter and a macaroni cheese main. They are both everything I could have asked for in a meal. The mac & cheese is by far the nicest I've ever tasted.

"That looks incredible," Owen whispers in my ear. "I think I'm experiencing meal orderer's remorse now." He looks mournfully at his seabass main, and then back at my half empty plate with longing. 

"You want a bit?" I scoop some up on my fork and hand it to him, almost without thinking. After we did this the previous night on our "date", it is practically second nature for me to offer.

His mouth closes over the pasta, and he groans lightly, long eyelashes fluttering. "Fuck me, that's amazing," he mutters, passing the fork back. "I'll need to remember that for next time I'm here."

"You want more?" I ask with a laugh. He shakes his head, albeit reluctantly.

"I'm one step away from just stealing your plate as it is," he jokes and I nudge him teasingly. "Don't you dare." But my smile fades as I meet Nessa's eyes.

I can practically read the words "and they all lived happily ever after!" projected across her beautiful face, and my mule-like stubbornness kicks in once again. I turn my attention back to my meal, the lightness in my heart gone.

If anything is going to happen here, my friends can't find out. Not yet anyway.

"You okay?" Owen murmurs. He seems to sense my change in mood. It's pretty amazing how in-tune he is with me. I nod.

"I'm fine," I say tightly. I just need my mates to back the fuck off now and let me figure this out on my own.

After we've finished eating, we wander into the main bar for one more drink. It's pretty heaving in here to be honest - the pub in question seems to be pretty popular - but we  manage to snag a table in the corner, while Owen and Debbie go up to buy drinks, and Michelle nips to the loo.

This gives me the perfect opportunity to speak to my best friend. "Vanessa, we need to talk."

"Oh god, I've been 'Vanessa'-d for the second time in one day - I must be in trouble," she jokes dramatically, looking around her as if she's addressing the room.

"You are," I say emphatically. "Seriously, can you and the others stop trying to manipulate this situation with me and Owen? It's getting awkward and embarrassing, and, to be honest, I don't think it's good form for you to be constantly putting Owen in these situations when he's got a job to do."

"Wow," she says quietly when I stop for breath. "You've got it worse than I thought. Look at you worrying about Owen more than yourself."

I hadn't even thought about it that way.

"That's not the point." I shake my head. "You all need to stop involving yourselves in . . . Whatever this is."

Her face softens as she studies me. "Okay," she agrees. "We'll take a step back . . . Several thousand steps back," she amends hastily, spotting my warning glare. "But . . . Mirren, you've got to understand, none of us have ever seen you like this with a guy. And the way he looks at you? It's like you're something precious, something he wants to protect at all costs." She sighs. "All we want is for you to be happy."

"Then you need to let me make my own decisions, not force me into these set-ups," I say simply. Although her words are warming my stiff little heart. He really looks at me like that?

Debbie appears then, holding a tray of drinks as she dodges her way through the crowds. "Owen met an old friend at the bar and abandoned me for her," she grumbles, thudding the tray down on the table. "What a gent." I can't help but notice she only has four drinks - so Owen has kept his? He isn't planning on coming back?

Who is he with?

My mind immediately goes to the worst-case scenario as I find myself downing half of my G&T in one fell swoop. An old female friend, Debbie said. Maybe a beautiful one? An old flame, perhaps? I crane my neck to try and spot the bar. I can just make out Owen, face lit up with laughter as he speaks to the mysterious friend who is hidden behind a rowdy group of people.

The green-eyed monster inside me rears its ugly head in a way I'm really not used to. I need to investigate further.

"I'm going for a pee," I announce abruptly, getting to my feet and heading in the complete opposite direction of the toilets like a woman on a mission. I push roughly through the crowds until I'm closer to Owen. At this point, I don't even know what I'm going to do or say when I reach him, I just want to stop anything from happening with this so-called "old friend".

Owen spots me coming, and his smile grows brighter, unaware that anything is amiss. "Mirren," he shouts out. "Come and meet a good pal of mine. This is Sheena."

He gestures towards his companion as I draw level with him . . . and I realise I'm facing an adorable octogenarian with a light purple rinse - I guess we have the hair colour in common even if we are at least fifty years apart in age.

So this is what Debbie meant by "old" friend. I will kill her later.

"Nice to meet you, lass," Sheena says, shaking my hand with a grasp as strong as her accent. "Owen has just been telling me all about you."

He has?

"Remember I told you I worked in a hotel up this way for a while?" Owen asks me, eyes sparkling. "Sheena used to come in all the time."

"That hotel did the best afternoon tea," she laments, shaking her head. "I was so sad when it closed. It's no the same putting on ma Sunday best and eating ma own scones in the kitchen."

"You do make the best scones, though," Owen smiles at her.

"I just made a big batch today. You should swing by and pick some up tomorrow," she tells him happily. I can see how charmed she is by him, and I can't really blame her.

That being said, I'm a bit mortified that I've practically flown into an envious rage over what turned out to be an OAP.  And that the jealousy has forced me towards the bar for no apparent reason. I'm just standing here like an absolute idiot now. Which Owen has apparently just realised.

"Did you need something?" He asks me curiously. "Don't tell me you've already finished your drink," he adds teasingly.

"Um, no, I just - I got lost on the way to the bathroom," I mutter, knowing my face must be the colour of a strawberry by now. "Oh, there it is! It was lovely to meet you, Sheena. Um . . . Congratulations on the scones and all that!"

I walk away as gracefully as I can, bypassing the toilet and heading outside. I cross over the road to the stony beach and sink down on the ground, my burning hot face falling into my hands. I can't help but wonder how many cool points I've just lost. That behaviour was so not like me. I don't get like this over guys . . . Ever!

So what the fuck was that?

We may not have encountered the Loch Ness Monster on our travels but we've certainly just met Mirren's green-eyed monster!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. 💜