Chapter Eight
Iona
I unlock the front door and drag my feet across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind me. I've come home. That fact should make me feel better, but instead, it engenders a sense of disappointment. I love my little cottage on the outskirts of Loch Fairbairn. I love the few neighbors I have too. Why, then, do I feel dejected? It's rubbish.
And it cannot possibly have anything to do with Rafe Knight.
That man...He might be incredible in bed, but he's a flaming ersehole the rest of the time. The vitriol he spews at everyone, including me, does not endear him to me or anyone. Once I'd checked out of the hotel, I drove home while still fuming about that odious man.
No more. I will not allow Rafe to ruin my day.
I drop my purse on the table beside the door, then shuffle over to the sofa. Once I flop down on the cushions, I realize I haven't even removed my shoes. I'm sitting here fully clothed, still wearing my dress and my sandals. But I'm too exhausted to get up and change into something casual. So, I let my head fall back against the sofa and prop my sandaled feet on the coffee table.
Memories filter into my mind. Rafe naked. His thick dokey waving about. The erotically determined look on his face.
" Mhac na galla ," I curse at the ceiling. "Ye cannae even banish that bod ceann from your own thoughts. You're off your head, woman. Snap out of it."
I had planned to take a day off anyway, so at least I'm not shirking my work responsibilities. Despite the fact it's Wednesday, not Saturday, I might as well forget about my job for a while. Tomorrow, I'll get back to work on the raft of scintillating exposés I've accumulated for the next edition of the Loch Fairbairn Daily News . I believe cows are the top story. Raghnall MacCrum acquired some new stock. Aye, I couldn't think of a more exciting story to run. I only picked Raghnall because he lives next door.
When did my life become so mundane? I used to love my job. Lately, it feels like a ball and chain attached to my feet, dragging me down, down, down.
Rafe Knight certainly spiced up my life---in a negative way.
Despite my fervent wish to forget about him, memories of Rafe plague my thoughts. His naked body hovering above me. The way he licked his lips as he gazed at my breasts. I'd felt his cock grazing my belly, and the sensation was intensely arousing.
" Iasg is feòil ! I do not want to think about that man. No, never again. Do you hear me? No more thoughts of Rafe naked. I forbid it."
Arguing with myself might not be the best sign. Maybe I should have a wee chat with Jack MacTaggart. He's a therapist, after all. Aye, that sounds like a good idea.
Since I'm already dressed, I grab my purse and race out to my car. Raghnall waves at me as I drive away, and I wave back. Just knowing I'll have a chat with Jack makes me feel more relaxed and secure. I probably should have rung Jack first or sent him a text, so he'd know to expect me. But I couldn't wait. I'm sure Jack won't mind an impromptu session, especially since this is an emergency.
Aye, I urgently need to cleanse that despicable man from my mind.
I arrive at Jack and Autumn's house faster than usual, though it's possible I might have exceeded the speed limit a wee bit. I park along the side of the street, right in front of Jack's house. When I ring the bell, the door swings open within a matter of seconds.
Autumn smiles at me. "Iona, what are you doing here? It's always great to see you, but Jack's with a client right now."
"I'll wait, if that's all right with you. I have a rather urgent issue."
"Urgent? Oh, no, what's the matter?" Autumn slings an arm around my shoulders, leading me into the house. Just as she swings the door shut, she tightens her hold on me. "I'm sure whatever the problem is, Jack will know what to do."
"Aye, he's a wonderful therapist."
"Let's both sit on the sofa. I just put Michael down for a nap, so we've got plenty of time for girl talk." Autumn studies my clothing. "That's a pretty dress. I've never seen you wear it before."
"I bought it online last week. Only just received the package yesterday." I hunch my shoulders. "Just wanted to...I don't know. Spice up my wardrobe, I suppose."
"Nothing wrong with that." She clasps my hand. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but I want you to know you can if you'd like. I'm not a licensed therapist, but I have common sense on my side."
"You're a love, Autumn." I lay a hand over my belly which has begun to grumble. "Do you have any snacks? I didn't realize how hungry I was until just now."
"I'd love a snack too. You sit here and relax while I go rustle up something."
"Thank you, Autumn."
While she heads for the kitchen, I sink back on the sofa and close my eyes. Jack will sort me out for sure. It's only the negative excitement today that knocked me off kilter. The silence in the living room lulls me into a semi-sleeping state, though I can still hear all the little noises like Autumn bustling about in the kitchen. All of that background noise has a lulling effect on me.
"Here you go, Iona. This will ease your worries for sure."
My lids flutter open, and I see Autumn leaning over in front of me while holding a tray of treats and drinks. "Thane Black Label single malt? Everyone's drinking my brother's whisky these days."
"It is the yummiest." Autumn sits down beside me, setting the tray on her lap. "I brought some very decadent goodies to go along with the whisky. We still had some of the turtle cheesecake Jack's mom made for us a few days ago. There's a slice for each of us."
"Chocolate-covered strawberries? Cannae remember the last time I ate those.Salted caramels too? And cashew brittle? My blood sugar will hit the stratosphere. Good thing I'm not diabetic."
"I brought some not-sugary treats too." She points at eight little items. "Savory sandwiches made with honey, cream cheese, and Boursin cheese."
"Ooh, I'd love that. But I'll need to be carried out of the house in a trolley if I eat all of this."
Autumn leans closer and speaks in a softer voice. "Go on, have a little fun. I made the sandwiches myself."
"Just now? You're a kitchen whiz for sure. And I certainly wouldn't want to insult my hostess." I gently pick up a wee sandwich square and eat it slowly so I can appreciate its nuances. "Mm, this is absolutely delicious. Jack is a lucky man to have you for his wife."
"I'm lucky to have Jack too. He's a great cook, a great therapist, and so sweet."
"Aye, you two are very lucky."
I hadn't meant to sound disappointed, but I couldn't help it. I'm happy for my friends, Autumn and Jack and all the others. My brother Thane found his perfect match in Rebecca Taylor, but my brother Ramsay hasn't found the right lass yet. Most everyone I know is married, engaged, or soon will be. I've never had a serious relationship. My job and my children came before everything else.
Sometimes I wish I had made more time for dating. Then I might've found my perfect mate, if such a thing even exists. Of course, I know it has happened for so many people, just not for me.
A door opens down the hall, and I hear muffled voices.
"I should leave," I tell Autumn. "Dinnae want Jack's client to be embarrassed that I saw them."
"Don't worry about that. Jack introduced me to his new client."
"Oh. In that case, I'll have another wee sandwich and a few salted caramels."
Autumn grins. "Me too. I adore sweets. They're my greatest weakness."
"I think even the people who claim they never eat sugar sometimes grab a box of chocolates and gobble up the whole thing in one go."
Autumn sits up straighter, her focus on the hall behind us. And she grins. "Honey, your session is over. Come and kiss me, please." She swerves her attention to me. "Iona, have you met Rafe Knight?"
I jerk upright, twisting around to stare in stark horror at the evil man. "Did you and Jack trick me into this horrid reunion?"
"Of course not. Do you know him? Nobody told me it was a secret."
Jack touches Autumn's cheek and gives her a quick kiss. "It's no secret. But I didn't know Iona was here, otherwise I would have warned her and Rafe. They had a rather unfortunate encounter this morning."
And this afternoon. But I will never tell anyone what happened in my hotel room with that bod ceann .
Rafe seems uncomfortable. Good. He deserves to feel that way.
I shove two caramels into my mouth, chewing slowly while I glare at the horrid man.
Jack leans in and sets a hand on my shoulder. "I think a joint session might clarify your issues with each other."
I gawp at him. "You expect me to bare my soul to the man who tried to knock my door down? You're off your head, Jack."
"Would you be more comfortable with the idea if Autumn joined us?"
"No. I cannae be in the same village with him, never mind the same house."
I grab two more sandwiches, then march out the door. I do call out "goodbye" as I'm leaving. My honor demands it.
Rafe Knight has no honor.
As I jump into my car and scramble to get in my seat, I glimpse a figure emerging from the house. A tall, muscular, British figure. All right, I can't tell he's British just by looking at him. I do recognize his face, obviously, so I'm inferring that the figure is Rafe. I resist a powerful impulse that urges me to glance his way.
Instead of going home, I drive to my office. Writing the story about Raghnall's cows takes ten minutes. The rest of the newspaper is filled up with adverts and community news, which is supplied by members of the community. All I do is clean up the grammar and create the headlines. The newspaper is printed in Loch Fairbairn, thanks to generous donations from the community, mostly my friends and family.
Even after I've completed my work, I stay in my office.
Playing solitaire on my computer gets boring very quickly. There must be a story somewhere, just waiting for me to find it. It's time to scout the web for a good, juicy exposé. Not much online that I can mine. I sigh. That means it's time for on-the-ground research.
I head for the café and order a large cinnamon latte. Then I sip it while pretending to read a book, just waiting for someone to say something of interest to the community. It's what any good journalist would do. I'm not simply spying on everyone.
"Could I get you a refill, Iona?"
I glance up at the waiter, a sweet young laddie called Alan. His parents run a wilderness retreat business that brings in quite a few tourists, and I did a human-interest story on them a few months ago. "Thank you, Alan, I'd love another cup."
That's true, but I will probably be wide awake at two o'clock in the morning after consuming this much caffeine.
A man sits down at the table behind and to the left of me. My ears prick up the moment he brings out his mobile phone and dials a number. I can faintly hear the call ringing on the other end.
"I'm here, just where you wanted me," he says. "Now will you give me my first assignment?"
The gent is definitely British, and he's in his mid-thirties, I'd wager. Over the years, I've developed a good nose for sniffing out approximate ages without even looking at the person.
My mystery man laughs, though he keeps his tone sotto voce. "Don't you worry about that, mate. I'm perfectly positioned to catch all the good gossip. You wanted me to visit the café first, then fan out to the other locations. Yes, I know that. Stop treating me like I'm a child. Relax and let me do my thing. Of course. Cheers." The stranger disconnects his call. "What a knob."
Whoever the Brit is, he doesn't like the caller. To label someone a knob is not an affectionate term.
Does this Englishman have any connection to Rafe? Maybe the man on the other end of the call was my despicable Brit.
No, he's not mine. I don't want him. Shoo, Rafe, go home .
My reporter instincts are telling me Rafe has nothing to do with the mystery man whose conversation I overheard.
After ten more minutes of listening for anything of interest, I give up and go home.