26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Hangover, Horses, and Him
Violet awoke to the warm sun bathing her face. When she opened her eyes, a dull ache immediately gripped them. “Ugh,” she groaned, not feeling her best. Rolling over she looked at her clock through the slits of her eyelids. Eight-thirty a.m. She was supposed to be at the sanctuary for nine. Shit.
She flew out of bed, past her friends who still lay sleeping in her living room, and into the bathroom to take the world's quickest shower. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She'd just gotten her long hair wet, and with her headache blaring, she realized she’d left her toiletries, yet to be unpacked, in the bedroom. Guess she wouldn’t be washing with soap today. She slurped water in the shower, hoping to ease her massive headache. Tearing back the cute highland cow shower curtain she'd bought, she stepped out, and tossed a towel around her, throwing her wet hair up in a messy bun. No time for full makeup. She put on concealer, mascara, blush, and a new shimmer lip gloss she'd bought, and ran out of the bathroom, towel still wrapped around her.
In her bedroom, she noted the lovely sunlight streaming through as she whipped on her work jeans and a t-shirt—that probably could use a wash—and zipped into the kitchen. 8:59. She grabbed a shiny red apple and bolted out the front door, grabbing her purse as she went.
“See you guys later,” she hollered back before slamming the robin’s-egg blue front door closed.
Violet hated being late. She got to the sanctuary at 9:11. Nobody else seemed to even notice, but Violet was reprimanding herself for her tardiness while her head hammered scolding her for her late night boozing.
“Hey Effie.” She smiled as she walked into the office. She went to her locker, slipped on her rubber boots, and grabbed her gloves.
“Good morning, lassie.” Effie smiled as if nothing pleased her more than to see Violet. But then upon further inspection, her features dropped, and her eyebrows knit with worry. "Are ye feelin' quite well?"
"Just a bit of a late night." Violet wasn't about to divulge the fact that she was hungover.
"Och, right," she said. "Yer eyes are all puffed, and yer hair looks like ye've been drug through a hedge backwards."
Effie was the admin at the Highland Haven and was around sixty years old. On the surface, she was like the quintessential grandma, bringing the staff baked goods most days, always watching out for everyone, but one of Violet's favourite traits was her no-nonsense honesty—the call it like you see it, non-filtered manner that is earned with age. Normally, she enjoyed Effie's blunt assessments, but today, she was more in the market for a warm Grandma hug. Effie must have noticed her wince under her appraisal.
"Och, it's all right, lassie. Yer still as bonnie as ever. Ye remind me of those models ye see on the telly. Ye ken the ones. They'd look lovely even wearing a bin bag."
Violet supposed that was meant as a compliment. "Thanks, Effie."
“I made rhubarb muffins if you’re peckish.”
Violet’s stomach seemed to growl on cue. “You are a godsend." She picked up an oversized muffin out of the Tupperware container Effie offered up to her.
“Did you meet Logan?” Effie chirped.
“Uh, no. Is he new?” Violet answered, biting into the muffin and sweeping crumbs from her t-shirt.
“Yes. Well, no, he’s not new, but it’s the first time we’ve all met him. He’s the owner of Highland Haven,” she said proudly as if he was her son. “Och, he’s just a lovely, lovely man."
Violet noted a flush creeping up Effie's soft, crinkled cheeks.
"I believe he said he’s coming by again today. He says he's keen to meet all the staff and volunteers. Apparently, he’s been away, so he hasn't had the chance to get in here sooner. Och, such a lovely man."
Violet almost laughed at how Effie was gushing. This Logan dude must be something.
"Ye'll like him, Violet. He's the kind of person ye can tell is good, right off the bat.” Effie’s pudgy face had gone as rosy as a spring tulip.
Violet was starting to wonder how this guy could possibly live up to the reputation he was getting. Well, the women seemed to like him, but was he as good a guy as they thought or just a good charmer? She supposed he must be a decent guy if Highland Haven was truly his. She was pretty sure dickheads wouldn't choose a horse sanctuary for kids as their big money-maker.
“Right, well, he sounds…lovely. These muffins are divine,” she said, shoving the last bite in her mouth.
“Oh, lassie, glad ye’re liking them. Bill cut the rhubarb fer me over the weekend. It's a wee bit tart, but I just added more sugar. Here, take another for later.”
Violet did, knowing it was the sugar hit that would likely get her through the day.
"I hope our Logan will like them too. I'm going to save the rest fer him. He's a big man, ye ken." Her eyes widened as if she were spreading some kind of gossip about him.
“Mmhm." Violet didn't want to comment on his size. "I’m sure he will.” Violet gave Effie a reassuring smile and turned to head toward the stables. "See you later. Thanks for the muffins!”
Our Logan , Violet thought to herself with a chuckle as she entered the small door on the stables and headed straight for Beethoven’s stall. She had to admit, all this talk about their new boss left her intrigued. Neighs and grunts greeted her. Hangover or not, this place was still heaven on earth. Beethoven snorted his approval upon eyeing Violet. She’d grown fond of all the horses, but Beethoven held an extra special place in her heart.
“Hey, boy,” she said, patting his shiny, ebony neck. “Shall we have a nice brush down before our ride? I’ll be right back, handsome.” She had the best side hustle in the world. She was responsible for grooming and exercising the horses. There were around fifty horses at the stable, but she was responsible for the care of half of them at the moment. She always started and ended her shift with Beethoven, though.
She walked down to the tack room. Opening the door, she caught sight of someone else in there, and her heart jumped into her throat. She recognized him immediately, even though the view was from behind. Broad shoulders, modern pompadour hair, and a damn fine ass in his dark denim. She was about to sneak back out when he looked her way. Those cerulean blue eyes she’d tried to forget locked on hers. And she instantly remembered how those eyes had been her lifeline only two months ago.
“Violet?” He appeared as surprised as she was.
God, he looked good, painfully good. Brown, perfectly worn leather boots under his dark denim, navy button-up shirt. Even at a stable, the man looked like he stepped right out of a men's magazine, and here she was again, looking casual AF—and not the cute kind of casual—damn it. She was pretty sure there was a stain on her gray t-shirt, and as Effie pointed out, she basically looked like shit. God. Why, why couldn't she have run into him at a coffee shop when she's working on her styling business or preparing to meet a client, and at least wearing clean clothes? She stared at him, still shocked to see him.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
That sexy crooked smile spread across his face, and her traitorous heart almost burst. God, how could she have forgotten the effect of that smile? She unconsciously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“At the moment, I’m looking at the tack gear.”
“Yes, I can see that. I mean, why are you here at Highland Haven? I hope you’re not thinking of purchasing one of our horses.” It was the first explanation she could think of.
“Would it be a problem if I was?” he challenged her, pulling down one of the leather bridles from the wall as if he owned the place. Who did he think he was?
“They are not for sale,” she said, wondering where the heck this Logan dude was now.
"Hmm, I see. And ye ken this for a fact?" He took a step toward her, closing some distance between them.
It ticked her off that a little, excited tingle rippled down her spine.
"I'm quite certain these horses were chosen specifically for this sanctuary. I highly doubt the owner would have any interest in selling them," she said, trying to sound convincing. Lachlan's gaze unnerved her.
“Ye dinnae sound too happy to see me.” His voice lowered.
Her stomach did a little flip-flop. “What? I-I,” she stuttered. Why should she be happy to see him? “I suppose I’m surprised to see you,” she said honestly.
Although, it was more than that. She was pissed at him. Ticked that he’d literally ghosted her. He knew she had no friends here. Even if he didn't want to date her, a friendly text to say hi or see how she was would have been nice. She'd be wise not to get carried away by the man's charm, but frick, it was easier said than done as he towered before her all manly and good-looking.
The silence stretched between them, and she shifted her weight, crossing her arms over her chest. She noticed his thumb run over the leather strap of the bridle in his hands. Big, slightly tanned hands with veins corded over the backs and strong knuckles. What would it feel like to have those hands on her, feeling down her waist or holding her face before he kissed her with that dang crooked smile on his lips? She swallowed hard, horrified at her own treasonous thoughts.
“They said I still had to meet Violet." His voice was husky and deep, and he continued to rub that leather gently with his thumb, driving her to distraction. "Violet, the wonderful lass who’s helped everyone here, the lass who cares about this place as though it was her very own.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Violet. I wondered if it would be ye.”
And that was when the penny dropped. “ You ’ re the boss." Plot twist . Not Logan, but Lachlan. Ugh . So many thoughts ran through her mind all at once, including that he was her boss.
He laughed humbly. “Aye, I suppose.”
Violet had no words. Would he still want her to work here? Did she still want to work here?
“Thank ye for ensuring that no one dare try to buy my horses. Our horses,” he corrected.
His correction took her aback. Our horses . She knew he meant the sanctuary’s horses, but all the same, the word our had a strange warming effect on her.
His skin tingled just being in her presence, like she wielded some kind of magic over him. The wary expression she wore and the way her arms were crossed over her chest bothered him. She was apprehensive with him. Who could blame her? After the day he'd dropped her at her Airbnb and the night he'd last spoken to Anna, when he'd discovered Violet’s note was gone, he realized that perhaps it was for the best. After ending things with Anna, it felt like he needed time.
And he’d also felt that flame in him again, inspiring him to finally bring Highland Haven to fruition. He didn't want to ponder what it was he'd experienced with Violet. That raw guttural desire that damn-near overwhelmed him, especially not on the heels of breaking up with Anna. He wanted to turn the page on the past and focus on the future. But seeing her now, that fated thrum for her in his veins. He’d be willing to bet money that she was his future.
Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she looked ready to bolt. Shite. “How’ve ye been?” he said, hoping she’d stay and talk with him.
“Great, I’ve been great.” Her words came out in a rush, and then she added, “I just moved into a nearby cottage, and I have a bit of traction with my styling business. And this place…” her voice trailed off.
He knew she loved it here. He could have predicted that after that first night together when she insisted they go down and meet his horses.
“That’s really great to hear. I'm happy for ye. Did ye get the little white cottage on the hill just down the lane? It’s been up for let for a while now.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I was so happy to find it. It’s like a hidden gem.” She unconsciously tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
His eyes followed the movement, landing on her exposed creamy neck.
He cleared his throat. “I’m really glad ye're doing well, though I'm no' surprised. I could tell when we met that ye would make things happen.”
She tucked her hands in her denim pockets under the edge of her t-shirt and rocked back on the heels of her rubber boots. The first hint of a smile touched her cupid bow lips. The effect was like the sun heating your skin after a cold dip in the sea.
“How’s yer head?” he asked after a pause.
“Good, all healed up, thank goodness. It's still crazy to me that that's how I started my time here in Scotland.”
“I think a lot of people would've let that defeat them. It's good ye stayed and didn't let it deter ye.”
She shrugged as if she didn't think it was anything significant. It was, though. Lachlan knew many who would not have persevered after a setback like that. He wondered what he'd been thinking, letting her slip out of his life as fast as she'd come in.
“I’m sorry that I dinnae get in touch.” He didn't want to bring up the fact that he never actually got to read her note, but he knew he could have connected with her again, even without her phone number.
“Don’t worry about it, Lachlan.” She moved past him, looping a halter in her hand and picking a saddle off the wall rack. “I better get to work,” she said bluntly as she carried on down the corridor behind him.
He watched as she used her back end to shove open the side door to the stables, without a glance back at him.
Lachlan blew out a breath and leaned an elbow against the wall, scraping a hand through his hair. He supposed that could have gone worse. At least she spoke to him.
Violet. His Violet. No, not yer Violet , he argued against the possessive thought. No' yet, anyway . He had no idea that he was the ripped jeans and t-shirt type guy until now. God, she looked good. Loose fit jeans over her slim legs, with a few fashionable frays where creamy tempting skin peeped through, taunting him, tucked into tall olive-coloured Wellington boots. Wisps of blond hair fell out, slipping out from her topknot and whispering against the skin on her slender neck. He had to tear his mind from imagining her skin goose-fleshing as he ran his tongue along the slim cords of her neck.
He blew out a breath, putting the bridle back on its peg. A few staff members had mentioned the name Violet to him. They had nothing but good things to say about the lass who'd started working there in only the last week. He was tempted to ask more about her. Was she a Canadian lass by chance? But he didn't. He waited with veiled anticipation, bathing the tasks and duties of his day in a lightness.
And now, he knew. It was indeed the lass he hoped it would be. When the mere mention of her name sent a jolt through him, he should have known he'd be done for seeing her again. The prospect of seeing her here at the stables on a regular basis had the same effect as telling a ten-year-old they could attend Hogwarts School of Wizardry. He felt positively giddy.
However, currently, he could foresee two issues—scratch that, three issues. One, she didn't seem to share his enthusiasm for their reunion—not that he could blame her. He'd been an arse to not reach out to her. Two, seeing her at work from time to time was not enough. Not by a long shot. Three, for all intents and purposes, he was her boss. Oh, and fucking number four, he was Saint fucking Lachlan.