3. Madison
MADISON
The moment I was alone, I resisted the urge to scream into one of the down-filled pillows on the bed.
I deposited Princess on top of the tartan comforter.
She had a brief burst of zoomies, then sat down and tipped her head to the side, her ears twitching as she watched me pace across the room, trying the other doors.
Finally, I discovered the en suite bathroom. I paused long enough to use the toilet and splash some water on my face, then emerged, just as angry.
“Can you believe him?” I exclaimed.
Princess barked as if to say I know.
“Hospitality is for guests.” My impression of his grumpy Scottish brogue was really bad. “What does a girl have to do around here to get a little sympathy for what might have been a life-and-death situation?”
I pressed my hands against the footboard, staring hard at Princess. She yipped, spinning around on the bed, chasing her fluffy tail.
“Don’t try to act cute with me,” I muttered. “Did you not see what I just had to deal with because you couldn’t stay put?”
She whined and flopped down on her side before squirming onto her back, looking for belly rubs.
I narrowed my eyes, but I could never stay mad at her for long—not when she chewed the fingers off my mittens or spilled my coffee with her overly enthusiastic demands for walks or even, apparently, when she put me in the crosshairs of Lord Crankypants.
My resolve crumbled, and I reached out, giving her a scratch. “You’re a menace, you know?”
She huffed in response, tail wagging. I’d found her abandoned by the side of the road early in my travels and quickly recognized a kindred spirit.
She was a lot of spunk in a tiny package, and her constant perky cheerfulness made it easier for me to stay positive.
I was honestly glad to have her, especially on nights like tonight.
I needed someone in my corner because Alistair probably still thought I was some trashy journalist or that I’d come to kidnap his child or something.
I pursed my lips, mulling over the look on his stupidly handsome face as he’d escorted me back to my room. Being lectured like a toddler who couldn’t follow directions had not improved my night. Princess gave my fingers a comforting lick.
The wind howled against the windows, and I abandoned my internal rant long enough to draw the heavy velvet curtains against them. I really didn’t want to see how high the snow was getting.
I whirled around, hands on my hips, trying to get a handle on my frustration.
My phone buzzed against my leg. I slipped it out of my jean pocket to find a text from Emily. I’d almost forgotten I’d promised to update her properly.
Still alive? she asked.
Got time for a call? I messaged back.
For you? Always.
I fired off a heart emoji.
Wait, one sec! I need to get a snack. I feel like this update’s going to be especially juicy.
I couldn’t help but smile. As much as I appreciated Princess’s furry support, Em had been my mainstay since we were six years old, traipsing into the same ballet class with our matching tutus and pink slippers.
I’d stumbled around like I had two left feet while Emily had flitted around like a woodland nymph.
The dance phase had obviously been temporary for me, but Emily had turned that lifelong passion into a career.
What hadn’t been temporary was our friendship.
Nineteen years later, no matter where life took us, we always made an effort to carve out time for each other.
Even with the time difference making things complicated since I’d been in Scotland, Emily was always ready to listen to my latest culinary review or give me a pep talk when I’d been rained on for the fourth consecutive day.
Snack secured! Emily wrote. A moment later, a call came through.
“Hey,” I said, answering immediately. Princess perked her head up from the comforter.
“Girrrrrl,” Emily said in greeting. “The first rule of Scottish van life road tripping is not to drive yourself into a ditch.”
I snorted. “I actually think I should be congratulated for avoiding it this long.” The narrow, twisty Scottish backroads were not my friends. Never mind having to figure out how to drive on the opposite side of the road.
“You got too cocky, didn’t you?” Emily teased.
I hummed in agreement. “That’s the last time I trust an app to know if the roads are clear. I should have gone with my gut—which was saying to spend another night in Glenby where the cute pub let me eat my weight in scones and Scotch broth.”
“But seriously, Mads, are you okay?” Emily asked, her tone turning serious. “Like, you’re safe? No broken bones or concussions to worry about?”
“Zero injuries to report,” I said. Thankfully.
The snow I’d gotten stuck in was quite powdery.
The biggest blow had been to my ego when I’d realized I’d driven straight off the road.
I usually considered myself to be an excellent driver, but tonight’s conditions were hellish.
“But if by safe, do you mean am I surrounded by swaths of tartan and a fireplace that could hold a car? Then yes.”
“Tartan is sexy,” Emily quipped. “Where were you headed anyway before you ended up in the ditch?”
“I hoped to make it to Aberdeen before Christmas. It’s a bigger city, and I figured there might be more to do over the holidays.
But looks like I’m stuck in Braeburn until someone is able to dig the van out.
” Even if Lord Crankypants could get me into town tomorrow, it’s not like I could go anywhere without a vehicle.
But hey, I’d much rather be staying in some tiny inn or B&B in the meantime.
His kid might be adorable, but the thought of dealing with Alistair for another day was miserable.
“Maybe this was your sign to slow down a bit,” Emily said. “You know, instead of chasing something, let it come to you. That whole law of attraction thing.”
I hummed, half in agreement, half with mild uncertainty.
I’d been driving around Scotland for the better part of three months, searching for a connection—to the land, to my bio mom, to the country where I’d been born.
I’d yet to find that connection, and I definitely hadn’t figured out my life’s purpose.
I couldn’t seem to find that, no matter where I looked.
“Hey, don’t sound so bummed,” Emily said, cutting into my thoughts. “You’re on a grand adventure, remember? And you’ll find your thing. I promise. You just have to give it time.”
“I just thought coming here, connecting to my roots…” I huffed in frustration.
“After finding out about the adoption, I thought I’d finally figured out my missing piece, you know?
That I’d come here and immediately feel at home.
” But it hadn’t happened that way. I felt like as much of a stranger here as I had back in Connecticut, and I had to stuff down the uncomfortable twinge in my chest. The one that made my voice hitch.
“These things rarely happen overnight,” Emily said. “I didn’t know dancing was going to be my forever thing until I’d done a decade of lessons. Then it finally clicked, you know?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. And now she knew she belonged on a stage. I wanted that. Not the stage or the crowds, but a place to belong. I clung to her belief that it would happen for me. “Thanks, Em.”
“Of course,” she said. “What are friends for if not to encourage you to climb through doggy doors? Speaking of…are you gonna tell your parents about that?”
“God, no!” I cried. I could imagine the looks of horror on their faces.
They’d never thought driving around Scotland to “find myself” was a sound or logical plan.
As law professors, there was nothing they valued more than logic.
In fact, they’d called my trip a childish temper tantrum.
But what the hell did they expect after waiting until I was twenty-five to tell me I was adopted?
“This situation would just confirm to them that me coming to Scotland was a bad call.”
“They’ll probably just be glad to know you’re okay,” Emily said.
“No, what they’ll do is ask me when I’m going back to work.” They were very concerned about the time I was taking away from my paralegal job. “But I will probably touch base with them tomorrow to wish them a Merry Christmas. The doggy door stays between us.”
“Cross my heart,” Emily said, and I knew she was making a little X across her chest just like we’d done as girls. “So are you going to tell me about this ‘major ass’ who’s letting you stay the night? Or are you going to leave me in suspense?”
I got to my feet, running my hand over my face as I started pacing the room. “Ass is an understatement, trust me.”
“He can’t be that bad if he let you stay.”
“It was like pulling teeth.” I recounted the tale of Alistair walking in on me shimmying through the doggy door and how irate he’d been. Emily, bless her, immediately got indignant on my behalf over how Alistair had behaved.
“Okay, I get that maybe he genuinely thought you were trying to break in at first. But it must have become very obvious very quickly that you needed help. Why on earth would he be so pissed?”
“From what he said, I guess he thought I was a journalist or something.”
Emily barked a laugh. “Why would a journalist be crawling through his doggy door on Christmas Eve?”
“Exactly! Thank you. If I’m squeezing my ass through a doggy door, the situation is clearly dire.”
Emily started laughing more.
“It’s not funny.”
“Sorry, I’m actually just imagining it for the first time.” She snorted. “The way you were probably wriggling.”
A smile tugged at my lips, but I tried to bite it back. “I’ve really been traumatized here,” I reminded her.
“Princess is probably traumatized,” Emily said. “She’s the real victim in all of this.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the little furball pawing at the covers until her puffy, tartan nest was just right. “She’s having the time of her life.” I pursed my lips. “But the journalist thing is weird, right? Like, why is the guy so hung up on the media?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. “You think he’s famous?”
I snorted. “No one I recognize. Plus, don’t all the famous people around here live in London?”
“Maybe it’s his country house, and he’s only there for the holidays.”
I bit my lip, considering it. “Well, he does have very Harry Styles hair. So maybe.”
“That’s hot,” Emily said.
I groaned. “That’s my biggest issue. He’s simultaneously the grumpiest and the hottest man I’ve ever met in my life.”
Emily made a hum of appreciation. “How hot are we talking?”
“Like, unreasonably attractive. Sculpted jaw. That perfect five-o’clock shadow. Chin dimple.”
“Are you sure he’s not Henry Cavill?”
I huffed a laugh. “Pretty sure.”
“Stop. I’m so jealous right now,” Emily said. “You know I have a thing for him.”
“You have a thing for blue eyes and brown hair. That’s a lot of the population.”
“Is it my fault I have a type?”
“It’s your fault I’m probably going to be having heated dreams about my assholey but very attractive host.”
“How is that my fault?”
“Because you keep reminding me how hot he is.”
“There are worse problems to have.”
“Name one,” I said. Emily’s answer was lost to me as I glanced over to what should be a closed door.
There, in the hallway, stood Alistair, looking right at me.
First, I was shocked. Then, embarrassed—just how much of that had he heard?
But it wasn’t long before I was irate. I stalked toward him and wrenched the door open further.
“What the hell are you doing just standing there?”
One dark eyebrow slowly inched up his forehead. “I think you forget it’s my house, and I can stand wherever I please.”
“Okay,” I snapped. “That’s a weird way of saying you were eavesdropping.” If I’d known he was out there, I definitely would not have been talking about his damn chin dimple. Gah! This was worse than having him watch me writhe around on his kitchen floor.
“I was not eavesdropping on your riveting gossip,” he snarked. “I was bringing you towels for the bathroom and an extra blanket because it gets chilly up here.”
I bristled, a red-hot flush creeping up my neck. “You should have knocked!”
“On an open door?” he scoffed.
“Yes!” My voice leaped an octave. “Or announced yourself or something.”
“What would that have mattered? You were speaking loudly enough for all of Braeburn to hear. If you wanted privacy, you should have closed the door. It’s a relatively simple concept.”
I did! Or, at least, I thought I had. I couldn’t get my words out between my gritted teeth, but I could feel that flush turning my cheeks three different shades of red. “Knocking is also a simple concept,” I finally managed.
“Yes, well, I’ll keep that in mind for when I have invited guests,” he said, passing me the towels and blanket.
I clutched them to my chest, digging my fingernails into the plush material.
I could tell by his little smirk that he felt like he’d somehow won this conversation, and I barely held back my frustrated growl as he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.
“Is he gone?”
Emily’s voice crackled through the speaker, and I realized she was still on the line. I jammed the phone against my ear. “Did you hear how aggravating he is? I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was banished out here to the middle of nowhere to spare the rest of humanity!”
“I don’t know how you managed to keep your words straight with that chin dimple you liked so much staring you in the face,” Emily said, and I could tell she was grinning like an idiot. “Plus that accent. God! I think I drooled a little on my phone.”
I grumbled.
“Seriously though, Mads. All jokes aside. He’s an attractive man, and you’re probably going to be stuck together for a while. Don’t go falling for him the way you did with Ryan.”
“Trust me, no chance of that here,” I muttered. My bad track record with boyfriends had taught me that I needed to be careful about letting anyone in. Thankfully, there was no danger of that with Alistair, who, despite his adonis good looks, had the personality of a cactus.
He didn’t want to be close to me, and I didn’t want to be close to him. End of story.