‘Loch pancakes,’ Dylan said with a smile. ‘That’s what Heather called them when she was a kid.’ His brow furrowed a little at the mention of his sister’s name. I imagined her crying in her room, just as I did at her age when I missed my parents, knees to my chest, pillow bunched against my stomach.

I crouched down on the ground and reached out, my fingers glancing over one of the ice discs. It bobbed against the one next to it, creating a domino effect, all of them bobbing against one another at once. Combined with the effect of the moonlight on their surface, it was beautiful, as though the icy circles were dancing. Dylan crouched next to me, close enough for me to smell the coffee and whisky on his breath. He reached out, bobbing the discs too, his smile deepening. Then he turned to me, face growing serious as his dark eyes searched my face. I felt my heartbeat quicken and imagined pressing my lips against his.

‘I needed an excuse to get out of there,’ he whispered. ‘It’s too much. All the—’

A shout punctured the silence.

‘Dylan!’ We both looked up with a start to see a shadow standing in the darkness. It was Mairi, her arms crossed, a look so fierce on her face I thought it might burn us.

‘The fire,’ she hissed at him.

‘Shit,’ I said, jumping up and instinctively trying to blow the dull orange embers to relight the fire.

‘Shit indeed,’ Mairi said. Then she turned on her heel and stormed inside.

Dylan sighed heavily. ‘Don’t bother. It’s just a fire.’

‘It’s tradition. And your mum looks pretty upset.’

Dylan slowly stood up, brushing the snow from his jeans. ‘She’s forgiven me for a lot worse.’

‘Like what?’

‘I was a nightmare as a teenager, proper wild child,’ he added with a wink. ‘Caused her hell. Come on, let’s get inside.’

I tossed and turned in bed that night. It wasn’t the room, the room was lovely. The wood walls created a sense of homeliness, the red robin curtains, red patterned duvet and Nordic-style decor making it feel even more Christmassy. No, it was the memory of the way Dylan had looked at me. I clutched my fist to my tummy, frustration burning inside. I really did wish it was a shoot. We’d have ended up in bed together by now.