Chapter 12
TWELVE
CIARA
“I’ve got what should be the final guest list for the Dowling-Gilbert wedding in December,” Kyla announced. “We’ll need to coordinate with Charlotte to make absolutely certain we can accommodate everyone in the cottages.”
“I’ll do that.” I made a note on my tablet. Charlotte Vasquez was Raleigh’s second mum, who’d followed him to Scotland from Texas when he’d come to claim Lochmara. She’d ended up falling for the grumptastic estate manager, Malcolm Niall, and stayed. Now she managed the array of guest cottages that were a significant source of income for both Lochmara and Ardinmuir. I adored her, as did we all. If I played my cards right, maybe I could wrangle that meeting over a pitcher of her famous margaritas.
“Great. That leaves us with the preliminary menus. Where are we on that, Afton?”
“Working with the original list of food sensitivities and preferences, I’ve put together a half-dozen options at three different price points, all of which feature locally sourced, seasonal produce.”
As she went deeper into those menu options, I struggled to maintain my focus. I was exhausted, having spent the day braced for questions from my coworkers about Alex—either the kiss or the rumors about us dating. I didn’t know what I was going to tell them. The truth still carried with it the same problem it always had in terms of they or their men wanting to go handle Brodie. But I also didn’t know how they’d respond to the idea of me dating Alex. I mean, I had my suspicions about how my brother would react, but I wasn’t sure about the rest of them.
I had to figure out something. For this ruse to work, I was going to have to be seen in public with him. God, that was going to be hard. Not because it was a burden to spend time with him—because I still liked him, damn it. Even the handful of exchanges we’d had—the ones where I hadn’t been jumping down his throat—had been a reminder of how and why I’d been so drawn to him from the moment we’d met. The hard part would be remembering why we were doing this and not giving in to the undeniable attraction I still felt for him.
“Ciara, are you okay?”
At the concern in Sophie’s voice, I dragged my attention back to the meeting to find everyone staring at me. “What?”
“You just seem really distracted.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Need a bit more time to recharge. Havoc is a total bed hog.”
From where he lay on the rug across the room, the dog cracked one eye and looked at me with accusation. How dare I throw him under the bus?
“Maybe come in an hour or two later tomorrow,” Kyla suggested. “We’ve got the time. Get some extra sleep.”
“Thanks for that.”
As the meeting wrapped up, a quiet knock sounded on the door. “Oh good. I caught you all before you finished.” The tall, slim man with a shock of white hair and impish blue eyes who stepped into the room had us all smiling. Great uncle to Kyla and Connor, Angus MacKean, was another of my favorite people. He lived here at Ardinmuir with his husband, Munro, in a different section of the castle from Sophie and Connor. “I made a huge batch of stew and fresh baked rosemary bread if any of you want to stay.”
Afton began to pack up her notes. “That sounds incredible, but Hamish and Freya are waiting for me at the pub.”
“I’m in for sure. I’ll text Raleigh.” Kyla pulled out her phone to send the invite.
Angus’s attention turned to me. “Ciara?”
Of the entire household, Angus was the one most likely to have heard something. Even his cooking wasn’t enough to sway me into a potential interrogation under the guise of family dinner.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to head on home. Himself over here will want dinner, and I’m hoping to go to bed early.”
“Fair enough. But take some of these fresh Jaffa cakes home with you.” He produced a care package of one of my favorite treats from I had no idea where. Really, having a former semi-finalist from The Great British Bake Off in my world was tough to beat.
I pressed a smacking kiss to his wrinkled cheek. “You are a god among men. Thank you, Angus.”
I gathered up my care package and the dog and headed home. I had no idea what I had in my flat for dinner. If I ended up just having Jaffa cakes, well, I was an adult. That was my prerogative, and there was no one around to judge but the dog. He could be bribed.
“Let’s get some food, and then we’ll go for a walk, aye?” It wouldn’t be a long one, but he’d been such a good boy, hanging out with me at work all day. He needed to stretch his legs.
I pushed open the door to my flat and switched on the light.
The white rectangle on the floor had me immediately on alert.
Not again.
I let Havoc off-leash. If anyone were actually here, he’d be losing his mind. It was fine.
But I picked up the envelope as if it contained a bomb. I recognized my name scrawled in Brodie’s familiar hand on the front. This wasn’t the first letter he’d left, begging me to take him back. But after our encounter over the weekend, what had felt pitiable before now held a creepy overtone. Sliding the single page out, I skimmed the contents. More of the same he’d been spouting for months. He loved me. He missed me. Please reconsider.
Annoyed, I balled the letter up and took it to the bin just as a knock sounded on my door. Startled, the paper fell from my hand onto the floor.
Christ, had he been waiting to see when I got home to try to talk to me about all this again? That wasn’t happening, but neither would I hide in my own place.
“Havoc.”
At the sharp tone, he immediately crossed to my side. At this point, I absolutely wasn’t above using the dog as a scare tactic.
Braced for confrontation, I opened the door a crack, leaving the security chain on. When I spotted Alex at the top of the stairs, I almost wilted in relief.
“Hold on.”
I shut the door and unlatched the chain before opening it wide.
He took one look at my face and his own hardened. “What’s wrong?” There was an unmistakable air of protectiveness in his tone that I liked far too much.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. You look uncomfortable in your own space. Do I need to have a look around?”
He’d do it. I knew if I said the word, he’d sweep my entire place looking for threats. Why did that feel so comforting?
“No, that’s not necessary. I have a four-legged guard at the moment, but come on in. We should probably discuss the specifics around us.”
“I thought so, too. I brought dinner, in case you haven’t eaten yet.” He lifted a bag from Village Chippy.
Surprised by his thoughtfulness, I stepped back to let him in. “Not gonna lie. You’re saving me from eating nothing but dessert.”
“I’ll share mine, if you’ll share yours.”
I had to fight not to smile. “Deal.”
While I grabbed plates and silverware, he pulled out portions of crispy golden fish and chips. The smell instantly had me salivating.
“Beer?”
He took a seat, looking far too large at my little round dining table. “Sure.”
I popped the tops and came back to the table.
Alex took his bottle and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, this is your show. You set the parameters.”
I appreciated his ceding control. I had a feeling that wasn’t his default state. Whether by training or inclination, I couldn’t say.
“Right. So, obviously, if this is to work, we have to go out, be seen. But it’s public-facing only. I’m fine with you touching me.” My brain instantly flashed to a memory of his hands exploring my most intimate places, and my face flamed. “Um, necessary PDA only.”
My inner hussy wailed in protest because all I’d been able to think about since he’d kissed me was kissing him again. I desperately needed to put some walls back up between us or he’d manage to undo all of my anger and frustration, and I’d turn back into that na?ve, hopeful young thing again, dreaming dreams that couldn’t be a reality.
“Understood. I want you to be comfortable, so I’ll do this however you want.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. And I appreciate you doing this at all. I haven’t exactly been nice to you since you moved to Glenlaig.”
His big shoulders twitched. “You had good reasons. I handled everything like the world’s biggest bawbag. I’m happy to do whatever I can to get you out of a shite situation.”
I didn’t quite know what to do with that, so I forked up a bite of fish.
Alex did the same, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s good, but not as good as Maury’s.”
I stared at him. “I can’t believe you remember him.” Maury was the Moroccan man who ran my neighborhood chippy back in Edinburgh. I’d taken Alex there as part of the tour of my city.
His deep brown eyes stayed level on mine. “I remember every moment of our time together.”
There it was again. That weighted pull I remembered from the very first moment we’d met. As if some gravitational force existed just between us. But alongside it was the burden of all the things he wouldn’t tell me. That was the reason all those dreams were impossible. Because until I had the truth, how could I decide whether he truly deserved forgiveness?
At the thought, the walls around my heart slammed back into place. That was how this had to be.