Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
AUTUMN
Ipushed my hair off my cheek, cursing the fact that my clip had broken. I usually wore my hair up in the office to keep it off my face since when down like this, the curls did whatever they wanted—and that was usually to bother me.
I opened the drawer beside me, searching, hoping for an elastic, a large paper clip—anything to help. But it was empty. That was the problem with short-term offices. I really didn’t know where anything was, and since I was only temporary, I never would.
I ignored the curl that escaped, hanging over my eye, and concentrated on the screen in front of me. A throat clearing made me look up. One of my temporary coworkers stood in the doorway, smiling.
“Hey, Bonnie. Come in.”
She stepped in, sitting across from me. I had met her when she lived in Canada for a short time.
The company I worked for had acquired the one she was employed by in Scotland, and they’d brought her over to Canada for a short period to learn the ropes.
We had struck up a friendship, and when she went back to Scotland, I was sad to see her go.
She was born in Ireland but grew up in Scotland with her stepmother and dad.
We had gotten along so well in Canada and had stayed in touch.
When an opportunity opened up for someone from Canada to come to Scotland to help with a new HR handbook and guidelines, Bonnie had put my name up, and I was excited to accept.
It would give me the distance I needed. The chance to reclaim my life. At least, I hoped it did.
I had always wanted to see Scotland, and in the time I had been here, I had used any free hours to explore. Bonnie had been a great tour guide, showing me sights only the locals would know. I had added a few holiday days into my schedule so I had time to explore.
She held up a stack of papers. “So far, so good,” she said in her delightful Scottish accent.
“The higher-ups approve. Your suggestions are spot-on.” She beamed at me.
“It’s such a great idea to have the same outlines all across the company, no matter what continent we’re in.
” She winked at me. “You’ve earned your time off for your mini break. ”
I laughed at her drollness. “The manual was a bit chaotic.”
She snorted. “You think? It hadn’t been updated in years. Some of your ideas seemed almost unreal to them.”
I shook my head. The company I worked for had bought this one last year and was bringing it out of the dark ages—HR, onboarding manuals, and all. We’d use the same programs, software, everything, to make it seamless.
Bonnie tossed her dark hair, her blue eyes smiling. “What do you have planned for your free time?”
I frowned. “Oh. Well, I had an Airbnb booked in a small town, but they canceled on me this morning. I need to find a new place. I want a quiet little spot close to the water.”
“Oh.” She frowned, then her face cleared. “Oh. Wait!” She pulled out her phone, typing on it, waiting for a reply. I finished a paragraph on the screen as she hummed, tapping her foot. “No reply. That means he’s immersed in work, so I know the answer. I have the perfect place for you.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“My cousin owns a small cottage in Lachlan, about two hours from here. He goes there occasionally, and I rent it out for him from time to time. Only to people we know.”
“He’s not using it this weekend?”
“He didn’t reply to my message, so I’m sure not.
I saw him last week, and he was so deep into unraveling a complicated law case, he wasn’t sure when he’d come up for air next.
” She laughed a little. “He’s a solicitor.
Sullivan Black is his name. When he’s involved in a case and he doesn’t respond, I know he’s busy.
But that means the cottage is available. ”
“Really?” I paused. “Is it, ah, safe?”
She nodded knowingly. “I think so. Secluded, but it’s near a small village. Very pretty, right on the water. I go and stay alone. So does Sully. I sent Emily there after her breakup. She loved it. Wait, I have pictures.”
She scrolled through her phone and handed it to me. My breath caught at the image of the little stone cottage. The huge fireplace and the welcoming porch. The view of the water sold me.
“It’s a little cold for the beach, but in the sun with a blanket, the porch is great.
You could get the train in the morning and be there by lunch.
There’s a little store in town to get groceries, a great pub, and it’s a ten-minute walk from the village.
There are lots of staples in the cupboards, a washing machine, dishes, everything.
The bed is huge.” She laughed again. “Sully did some renos—he’s over six feet tall with shoulders like a footballer, so he needed a far roomier bed. Can you make a fire?”
I nodded. “Yes. We had a cabin growing up, and I know how to build a fire.”
“Then take it. Go and enjoy it. Sit on the porch. Relax by the fire and drink some wine.”
“And you don’t need it?”
“No. I’ve got a wedding this weekend, or I’d go with you.
And Sully is obviously tied up or he would have answered.
It’ll be empty. I have the key in my purse I’ll give you tonight before you go, and I’ll write down the directions,” she offered eagerly.
“A few days of Scottish peace and quiet. The Sunday roast is incredible at the pub. Have it before you get back on the train at three. Oh, and the flue sticks in the fireplace. Push hard to the right.”
I hesitated, then smiled. “Okay!”
“Great.” She stood. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Wednesday morning, I stepped off the train, looking around in wonder.
The village was small, quaint. Lovely. I had packed a knapsack, so I flung it over my shoulders and strolled around, taking it all in.
There was a small bakery and a butcher. A general store.
Even a post office. The pub was easy to spot, and I went in and sat in the corner after getting myself a drink and ordering a ploughman’s lunch.
I enjoyed the cheeses and bread with the various pickles and a thick slice of ham.
I headed to the grocery, the bell tinkling overhead when I stepped inside.
A small woman with white hair looked up from behind the counter. “Hello, lassie.”
I smiled. “Hello.”
“You must be the lodger Bonnie told me about,” she said, bustling out from behind the long wooden desk. Her brogue was strong and thick. “You’re needing some items for yer stay?”
I swallowed and nodded. I had packed some clothing, my laptop, my Kindle, warm socks since Bonnie told me the floors were chilly in the mornings, and a couple bottles of wine.
At the station while I waited for the train, I’d added a few treats from Marks and Sparks.
I loved their cheese and onion sandwiches, so I purchased those, some crisps, and a few Galaxy chocolate bars I had become addicted to.
“Just a few things.”
“Off with ye, then. Anything you can’t find, ask. I might have it in the back. Now, if you’re wanting good bread or sweets, I suggest a stop at the bakery.”
I took a basket and browsed, surprised how well stocked the shelves were.
I wasn’t planning on cooking a lot, but I got some cold meat, eggs, and their bacon—which I loved here—some canned soup, and I chose several kinds of cheese from the refrigerated section.
I added some crackers and more crisps, plus a small container of cream and a package of coffee.
Bonnie assured me there was a French press I could use.
Mrs. Harris, as she informed me was her name, rang me up and placed the items in two canvas bags.
She made sure I knew how to get to the cottage, following me outside and pointing the way.
“To the right by the weather vane. There’s a path. It takes you to the sea. The cottage has another path off it to the left, ye ken? Ye canna miss it.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem, lassie. If you need anything else, we’re here every day.”
I smiled and headed first to the bakery, then down the road.
Everyone that I encountered was friendly, smiling and saying hello.
The bakery was bursting with delicious smells, and I ended up not only with two loaves of fresh bread, but some buns, tarts, and a few delectable-looking pastries I couldn’t resist. They even had some prepared meals, and I grabbed a couple that tempted me.
Loaded down, I headed to the cottage, laughing to myself.
I doubted I would eat all this food. But I wanted it, and for the first time in a long while, I was allowing myself to have it.
I had been denied long enough. Told hundreds of times to stop eating and try to be thinner. Have “more pride” in my appearance.
I had finally gotten to the point where I liked how I looked, and if I wanted a sticky bun, I would have one and not feel guilty. It had taken me a long time, but I loved it.
I admired the scenery, finding the path to the water easily.
I went over a hill and stopped in astonishment.
Before me was endless sea and sky. The lake was blue, gray, and green, waves rolling along the top constantly.
The sky was blue today, although I had heard a forecast of possible snow tomorrow.
I turned and looked to the left when I came to the next path.
Ahead of me in a little secluded spot was the cottage.
It was set against the trees, and the stones were whitewashed and old.
I hurried toward it, suddenly anxious to be inside.
Set down the bags I carried and sit on that porch.
Explore the beach, breathe in the salty air. Listen to the waves.
The stairs were thick and soundless as I went up. The key slid in easily, and the door opened with a low squeak. Inside, I looked around, enchanted.
The pictures hadn’t done it justice. I carried the bags to the counter in the kitchen and set them down.
I shrugged off my knapsack. I hurriedly unpacked the groceries, putting everything away in the small fridge and the cupboards.
Then I headed outside and took in the views.
Listened to the waves and the wind—the only sounds I could hear.
I had to blink away the sudden moisture in my eyes.
I needed this. I had no idea how badly I’d needed it until this moment.
I walked to the beach and along the pebbly shore.
The wind was chilly this time of year, but my coat was warm and I drew up my hood, not wanting to go inside just yet.
I looked back at the cottage, hugging myself at the thought of staying here. It was everything I imagined and more.
I was going to love it. I already knew that.
The next night, I curled up in the big chair by the fireplace, the flames crackling in the hearth, the warmth welcome, looking around in wonder.
The mantel was substantial, the timber thick, and it shone from years of oil and elbow grease.
The floors were smooth under my feet. The kitchen had been updated but still suited the style of the cottage.
I had slept better last night than I had in months.
I spent the day exploring the beach, walking along the shore, and returning to the village to get more sticky buns and a few other tempting pastries.
I added some large potatoes, the idea of baking them in the fire tempting.
I got more cream, finding myself drinking more coffee than usual as I sat by the fire.
The weather had turned colder in the afternoon, and snow had started falling in the early evening.
A huge storm now raged outside, but in here, I was snug and cozy.
On the table beside me was a glass of wine and an open bar of chocolate.
I had my Kindle and a warm woolen blanket over my knees.
I felt at peace. Content.
I dozed, startling awake when the front door blew open and a man walked in, shutting the door behind him.
He dropped the bags he was carrying, leaning his head back on the wood.
His coat was covered in snow and ice and his clothing wet.
His shoulders were as wide as the doorway, and he was as tall as the entrance, his hair soaking wet and dark.
The man was massive and frightening. My Kindle fell to the floor, and I stood.
His head snapped up, and his startled gaze met mine.
Deep brown, intense eyes scanned me, and I realized my fears might have just come true.
I had been found.
The room spun around me and went dark.
The last thing I felt was cold, damp. The last thing I heard was a deep voice.
“Feck!”