Four.
Colt watched the paint brush edge in carefully, as she coated the seam where the window frame met the window, with wood stain. She had been in the property for several months now and thankfully, she had finally got the new triple glazed windows installed, and framed out. A bit late for the winter just passed, but hopefully she should be draft free next year.
So, she was now just working away, staining the wood, she had chosen a bright antique pine colour, which stood out well against the ivory coloured walls. Colt had found her little traditional crofters cottage could be quite dark, especially with the surprisingly restrictive daylight hours in winter. So, she had opted to decorate the walls and fixings with as many bright and airy colours as she could, and she loved the result.
All in all, the house had come along nicely, in the months she had been there, and Colt found she had genuinely enjoyed being able to be hands on with the renovations. She had been sending progress pictures of her work back home, though she always made sure they were close ups. Having told her parents she was moving to France, to renovate an old chateau.
It was a lie whe had never expected to tell. But, she found with how close her parents were with her Aunt Alana again, Colt had been petrified of the news of her location trickling down and through to Elijah, via Marcus, her cousin and it would seem, Elijah's one remaining close friend. Plus, her Mom had never really spoken too much of her parents, and Colt had even had to sneak their address from her Mom's files. She had a strange gut feeling her Mom wouldn't be happy about her being in Scotland, so she had lied.
But now, when her home was coming together, and as it was almost finished, she found herself toying with the idea of telling her parents the truth. She wanted to share her achievements with them. The jobs she had put her own hard labour into. From, pulling up old rotten floorboards, and knocking through walls, to plastering the superficial cracks in the remaining walls. It had been hard work, and she was proud of it.
Colt had converted the upstairs three bedrooms, into two larger ones and upgraded the heating and plumbing system, under the supervision of a local contractor, named Alfonso. He was originally from Spain, and before Elijah, Colt would have found the Spaniard very attractive. But, unfortunately this was post Elijah, and Colt hadn't met one man who had sparked any interest from her whatsoever. Though, she was starting to suspect her grandparents had the misplaced, yet presumably well meant, intentions of setting her up with a friend of their family. Angus.
Angus Bruce, was a wildcat with an excellent pedigree, or so he told Colt when she first met him. Recently single, and looking to settle down and get serious, the man was like a corney old school dating video. Colt had laughed with her cousin Iona, about the fact that the man should keep looking as far as she was concerned.
But, unfortunately for her, Angus just kept showing up, dinner with her grandparents, a trip to the garden centre with Maureen, the local grocery store, a girl's night out with Iona. He just kept making his unwanted presence known, she felt like she was being stalked. Hell, he had even turned up at Colt's door, when she returned from a run, pervertedly acting like he fully expected her to shift naked in front of him and invite him in for coffee. Thankfully, all it took was a snarl from her wolf form and he backed right off, feigning the excuse of his phone vibrating in his pocket. Wolves have excellent hearing, there was no buzzing noise from the device whatsoever. It seemed her would be suitor was a tad afraid of her big bad wolf form.
Now, it wasn't that Angus was bad looking. On the contrary, he was rather well put together. Thick, burnt red hair sat on top of a fine chiselled face. Not quite as strong boned as Elijah's though, or as tall, or as strong, and where Elijah had those ice blue eyes, and boy next door charm about his appearance, Angus, just didn't. He had dull grey eyes and was about as charismatic as a blob sculpin fish. But, he was persistent, and forward, and Colt was running out of polite ways to tell him to go away. She was also running out on patience with her grandmother's incessant cooing, over how good a couple they would look together, and her not so subtle hints, about great grandchildren. Since she did miss out on Colt and her brother's births, after all. None of it mattered, Colt's heart belonged to her mate still, even if he had treated it appallingly, and she was still piecing it back together.
She did find solace in her painting though, especially as she watched the window frames absorbing the stain as she worked hard to finish in time. It was Saturday, and tonight she was attending her first ceilidh. Apparently, it was a tradition where they hosted one in Spring, at the beginning of lambing, or before lambing started even, for everyone to get together before such a busy time where they wouldn't be able to see one another properly.
Iona told her a ceilidh was a traditional Scottish dance, with fast paced fiddle music and accordians, as well as copious amounts of alcohol. Her Uncle Robert would be there, as well as her grandparents which unfortunately meant Angus would likely be there too. But, still she found the prospect quite exciting, and it wouldn't be long till Iona herself turned up to get ready. Colt was hoping to be showered at least by that point, but she just loved her painting work, and ended up doing more window frames than she originally had planned on.
Sighing as she finished staining the last section, she paused and glanced out of the window. It looked out into the sea loch past the the small sandy cove, and there, she noted with a smile, was the little yellow and dark blue creel fishing boat she liked, back out at work again. She smiled watching it. The vessel was about twenty-six foot long, which she only discovered when she spotted it on a trip to the local harbour. It wasn't often used, according to the locals, since the owner spent a lot of his time in Ireland, she had simply assumed he must fish the waters on a rotation before aquiring that knowledge. But, when she spotted it, tied up on the end of the pontoon with its creel pots stacked neatly at the side, she realised it was true, the boat wasn't used a lot. It sat quietly, in the protected waters, its stainless steel railings and cat catcher glistening in the sun. There was something about it that she was drawn to, though she had no idea why.
So, now she smiled watching it from the window, as the blurry figure on board connected the rope he scooped out the water onto his hauler and lifted a creel pot out of the water. She guessed, more than saw that he was emptying out the crabs and lobsters, before watching him stack the creel on the cat catcher at the back of the boat. He must be heading back to Ireland then she thought idly, feeling strangely disappointed.
Colt continued to watch the little boat till it was completely out of sight, she was completely transfixed on it. When she finally looked away and down to her hand, she realised her paint brush had completely dried out, as she had watched the fisherman. Cursing she went through to the kitchen to try and soak it in the sink. Hoping she could somehow bring it back to life. She liked that brush, the edge was tapered nicely, and it made edging in so much easier and neater.
After she cleaned everything up, she quickly grabbed a load of laundry from her washing machine and took them outside to dry. They would likely not dry completely in the current damp spring weather, meaning the sheets would have to be placed in the dryer later, but she did enjoy how they captured the outdoor smell by being hung out. Colt adored the way, that when she climbed into her fresh bed sheets at the end of the day, the scent of the sea and the beach engulfed her. Briefly she noted the little boat heading back to the harbour, as she pegged up her duvet cover, and deliberately forced herself not to watch. Otherwise, she really would be late, though she did make a mental note to drive down there, the next time she saw the boat out, to hopefully buy some of his catch for her dinner.
*Author's Note: Thank you for your patience. I have put a picture of the boat on facebook, @Bethanyriverwrites. It is based on one Mr River, rebuilt a few years ago.