Built for Love (Scottish Single Dads #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

AINSLEY

“It smells like stinky socks in here!” Lily wrinkles her nose dramatically, her voice echoing off the bare walls of the empty salon.

“It just needs some fresh air,” I tell her, flipping through my planner while Malcolm Walker jots something in his notepad.

“And new everything.” Lily spins in a circle, her arms held out wide. “Can we paint it orange?”

“We’re painting it blush pink and soft white, remember? You said you liked that.”

“No. I like orange better now.”

Of course she does. Four-year-olds are more fickle than a Highland forecast. “Pink is more sophisticated,” I suggest.

“What’s ’fisticated mean?”

“Sophisticated,” I correct. “It means fancy.”

“Oh.” Another spin. “Can I be fancy?”

“You already are.”

Malcolm chuckles and looks up from his notes. “She’s a wee character, that one. My granddaughter, Isla, is the same. Seven going on seventeen, she is.”

Lily’s trainers squeak as she trots over to the front window, her brown pigtails bouncing. “Look! Someone painted the window so people can’t see us.” She smooshes her cheeks with both hands and blows a raspberry.

“Lily!”

“What? No one can see me, Mummy.”

Malcolm chuckles. “The whitewash—the paint—is just so we can get on with the refurb in peace, Lily. Once it’s done, I’ll scrub it off for the grand reveal.”

“Oh!” Lily turns around. “So we’re keeping the salon secret till it’s ready?”

“Exactly.” I smile. “Now, how about you play quietly for a few minutes? Malcolm and I need to talk over everything that has to be done before opening day, okay?”

“Okay, Mummy.” She strolls over to one of the old styling chairs and climbs up onto it. While she hums away to herself and spins around, Malcolm and I go over the plans again, confirming measurements and timelines.

As he talks, my gaze drifts around the room: the scuffed skirting boards, the cracked tiles by the back basin, the ghostly outlines where mirrors once hung. I picture it as it will be: fresh paint, new stations gleaming, sunlight spilling through clear glass instead of whitewash.

A bubble of nerves rises in my chest, mixed with something that feels suspiciously like excitement. This is my fresh start. No—I glance over at Lily, who’s now holding her fingers like scissors and pretending to give herself a trim—our fresh start.

“Right,” Malcolm says, pulling me back. He’s scanning his notepad, pencil tapping lightly against the paper. “This should all be straightforward enough. My son, Struan, will be handling most of the work. He’ll get started first thing Monday.”

“Oh, your son’s doing the renovation?” Hadn’t realised that. Please let him be competent. A reliable tradesman who’ll get the job done without drama.

“Aye, he’s brilliant. Been working with me at Walker Builds since he left school. Actually, you’re on Ardview Road, aren’t you? Number twelve?”

“That’s right. Well, I will be soon. I’m collecting the keys today.”

“Ach, you’ll be next door to him, then. He’s at number fourteen.”

“Handy,” I say with a small laugh. “At least I’ll know where to find him if anything goes wrong.”

“Shouldn’t be any problems,” Malcolm assures me. “But aye, between the refurb and living next door to him, you’ll be sick of the sight of him by the time this place opens.” He winks at me.

“Mummy!” Lily jumps down from the chair. “Can we go see the new house now? I want to see my room!”

I check my phone. Eleven. The estate agent won’t have the keys ready until noon at the earliest. “Soon, baby.”

“You said that ages ago.”

“Twenty minutes ago,” I point out.

“That is ages ago!” She crosses her arms and her lower lip trembles. Oh God. We’ve had so many meltdowns lately, and I really can’t handle one in front of Malcolm. “Tell you what, why don’t we go to the soft play after we’re done here? Would you like that?”

Her face transforms instantly. “Really? Can we?”

“If you let Mummy finish talking to Malcolm.”

“Okay!” She smiles sweetly, the brewing tantrum forgotten.

“We’re pretty much done here anyway.” Malcolm tucks his pencil behind his ear. “I’ve got everything I need. This place will look great when it’s done, and I’m sure it’ll do well here in Ardmara. What brought you to town, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The question catches me off-guard, and my chest constricts, just for a second.

I smooth down a page in my planner, buying myself a moment.

“Oh, I’ve always loved this part of the Highlands, and I’ve dreamed of having my own salon for years.

When this one became available, it was a no-brainer.

” I keep my tone light, breezy. It’s not a lie but it’s not the whole truth either.

Not even close. But I’m not about to tell him what I’m running from.

Malcolm nods, accepting the answer without question. “Right then, I think we’re all sorted. Struan will be here Monday morning, eight thirty sharp. Should have you up and running in two weeks.”

Two weeks. I glance around the tired salon again—water-stained ceiling tiles, walls that might have been white once, floors dulled by years of footsteps. Just two weeks until our fresh start officially begins.

Assuming nothing leaks, breaks, or bursts into flames before then.