Knot a Highland Romance (Highland Heat Omegaverse #1)

1. Maisie

maisie

This trip is going to be the death of me.

“What do you mean, we can’t bring our scent blockers on the plane?” I argue with the sour-pussed TSA agent while my sister digs around in her bag, searching for her passport.

This trip was our mother’s dying wish. She wanted her daughters to experience the magic of the Scottish Highlands together, specifically the town she grew up in, Gleann Dùil.

She thought it would rekindle our fractured relationship.

But as Birdie dumps the contents of her entire bag on the floor of the airport, scrounging around to find her passport, I’m not even sure we’re going to get on the plane.

“Ma’am, like I’ve explained, it’s not approved in countries outside of the US. You’ll either need to dispose of the medication or you’re not getting on an international flight,” the agent says, looking like she wants to throttle me and the feeling is mutual.

The medication lasts a week and prevents us from being able to scent other people. It’s the only thing that’s going to get me through this flight—through this whole trip.

“Ah ha! I found it. Told you I packed it,” my sister says, shoving all her shit back into her bag.

The TSA agent stares at me and I let out an indignant huff. Shaking out two pills, I give my sister one and pop the other in my mouth, swallowing it dry.

I wasn’t due for another dose for another few days, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I toss the rest of the medication in the trash bin and she waves us past, through security.

“What are you going to do on the way back?” Birdie asks and I just shrug, because I have no clue.

“I’ll figure something out,” I stick with. Maybe there’s something over the counter we can get in Scotland.

My phone is buzzing in my pocket with messages from work.

There are a trillion people in this airport and I feel on edge.

I’ve been feeling like this a lot lately, overwhelmed to the point I think I might crack.

I mean, I never do. I always keep my shit together under pressure.

Yet, it feels like a dark cloud is following me in warning, like the smallest thing is going to be what sends me over the edge.

“Maisie, your bag,” Birdie says, bumping my hip as I grab it out of the bin and shake away the negative thoughts.

Now is not the time to break down—not while we’re traveling internationally, not when we’re spreading our mom’s ashes, and not when we're working on our relationship.

I can handle this. I can do my work and spend time with Birdie. I’ll figure it out. I’m used to working long hours, it will be fine.

At least with the deodorizers we’re wearing and the scent blockers we’re taking, it’s almost like traveling as a Beta, but not completely. Alphas can still discern our designation, even if they can’t scent us.

Luckily, I’ve gotten great at ignoring Alphas. I work with a decent amount of them, which has nearly turned me off the designation completely. If not for my heats, and a debilitating need for a knot, I’d probably ignore them entirely. The scent blockers were a huge help on that front.

The anxiety over not being able to take them is lingering in the back of my mind, but I just have to ignore it. I’ll deal with it as it comes, just like everything else.

As we wait for our plane to board, I’m putting out fires at work. They weren’t happy about me working remotely for a month, but with my promise of being available despite the time difference, they allowed it.

I’ve worked so hard to become the head of marketing for our Omega cosmetics line, and there’s no way I’m going to let this trip set me back in my career.

My mom’s final words to me ring around my head and I push them to the side as we board our plane. I pay for the Wi-Fi and work the entire flight. At least when I’m working, there’s no time to be introspective about everything else going on in my life.

I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep the whole flight, and I grip the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as I drive our rental from Edinburgh to our bed-and-breakfast in the Highlands.

"I could drive for a little while," Birdie says, and I just shake my head.

"It's fine, I've got it," I tell her, mostly because I've seen my sister's driving. I've at least gotten the hang of it a little.

At least I think I do...

"Maisie, shit, you're too far to the left," Birdie says.

"I'm not," I snap back.

"Yes, you are. God, we're going to die before we even get there."

"Don't be so dramatic. We're literally right outside of the town," I say back, attempting to shift the car ever so slightly to the right.

A truck passes us and I wind up shifting more to the left, which has Birdie gripping on to the door handle and pretending like she can hit the brake from the passenger seat.

"Shit," I hiss out, as we hit a large bump, too large of a bump. One that makes the car shake. It's hard to hold the steering wheel straight as the car makes a wretched noise and a warning sign flashes on the dash.

There's a flat tire. Fuck.

I try to drive a little further, but with the noise the rental car is making, that’s a terrible choice. I pull over to the side of the road and put the emergency lights on.

I just sit there a long moment, staring at the steering wheel and neither of us says a word.

Internally, I'm so frustrated with my mom. There was no way out of this trip, not when it was the last thing she asked of me, and not when Birdie had begged me to come.

My twin and I grew apart the older we got.

When we were little, we were inseparable, no matter how different we were.

Birdie was into crafts and chasing Alphas and I was hyperfocused on school.

It was important to me that I got a high-paying job—It was even more important that I proved I could do anything as an Omega.

I don't need a pack; I didn't need anyone but myself to get where I am today and I don’t see that changing.

Yet, there's still this longing of things being the way they used to be between us when life was simpler and I could confide anything to Birdie.

It feels like we're worlds apart and I don't know how to fix it. I’ve isolated myself, burying myself in work. I’m not even sure where to start with repairing our fractured relationship.

I blow an unruly piece of hair out of my face and glance over at Birdie and meet her gaze.

Her eyes are the same exact shade of green as mine, the same our mother had.

When we were little we looked a lot more like twins, but as we’ve grown our differences are more stark.

Her warm brown waves frame her face while my unmanageable dark blonde curls are pinned to the back of my head.

Can hair be a personality indicator? Beyond that, Birdie is busty, confident, and outgoing with other people while I’m slight, neurotic, and do my best to avoid small talk.

No matter our differences, we’re still twins. She’s my sister and I’m not going to lose my shit right now. That’s the last thing we need, plus the situation is my fault, not hers.

"Do you know how to change a tire?" I ask her.

"I was hoping you would." She grimaces.

We both get out of the car. We're stranded in the most picturesque place I could imagine, rolling green hills on the sides of us, not a single building in sight.

If we weren't in this shitty situation, I'd pause a moment and take in how absolutely stunning it is, but we have more pressing matters at hand.

I grab my phone, ready to call some sort of tow service and realize I don't have a single bar of service. The flashing SOS status on my phone taunts me and I groan.

"We're fucked," I say, kicking at the flat tire and regretting it immediately. "The town is eight kilometers away. Worst case, we walk?"

I glance over at my sister, and she's just blissfully taking in the view, not even phased by our current situation.

Birdie lives in the now. She's not the type to make plans or worry about what the next day holds.

I envy her for it. I wish I could let go more, not constantly worrying and stressing about the future.

I take a deep breath, calming my nerves and attempting to keep the panic at bay.

What if we’re out here all night? What if we have to walk all the way to town?

There are a million what ifs rolling in my head.

I just want to get to the bed-and-breakfast, take a shower, and sleep for the next ten hours.

"Look, a van is headed this way," Birdie says and I round the vehicle, waving my hands like a lunatic, hoping that whoever is driving takes pity on us and helps us change the tire.

Thankfully, the white van slows down. Lain's Highland Tours is written in dark green script on the side, which leaves me with hope that we aren't about to get murdered and buried out here in the mountains where no one will ever find us. I can picture the murder podcasts about vanishing twins in the Highlands so easily in my head, oh God, what if they call it the Twin Peak Murders? I can’t go out like that.

Fortunately, it appears his van is full of witnesses—thank goodness.

I expect an old Scottish man with a weathered face and a thick accent to step off the bus. Instead, I'm graced with a massive man, undoubtedly an Alpha, considering his size. He’s wearing a dark red kilt and a green sweater. His size is imposing. I barely reach his chest as he approaches.

My nerves are put at ease as a long-haired dog with white and gray fur trails behind him. Surely a serial killer wouldn’t have a dog.

The large hound shoves its nose in my crotch and I let out a squeak as I do my best to move the dog’s snout.

"I’m so sorry. Fergus here isn’t usually this forward,” he says, pulling the dog’s collar. “You lassies in need of some help?” His accent is thick and rich as he runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"Uh. Yes. We have a flat tire," I say, leading him around the vehicle and pointing to the tire in question.

He lets his dog go, and I watch him trot over to the grass, where he lifts his leg and relieves himself.

I can hear laughing from the van, a few people holding up their phones and recording the encounter.

I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment as the man’s voice softens next to me.

"Do you have a spare?" he asks and I wince.

“I’m not sure?” I reply, phrasing it as more of a question than an answer.

"Pop the boot, yeah?" he says.

I’m about to walk to the front seat as my sister beats me to it.

“I’ve got it!” she sing-songs.

She pops the trunk as the giant Alpha digs through the back of the vehicle. He lifts the compartment and gives me a wide smile.

“Looks like we’re in luck,” he says.

He pulls out the tire like it weighs nothing and places it on the ground at the front of the car.

"Let me just go grab my kit," he says, going over to his van and opening the back door. "Dinnae fash, folks, we'll be back on the road shortly. Seems we have some bonnie American damsels in distress in need of a helping hand." It has the people in the van laughing and my cheeks heat over it.

He comes back with some tools, making quick work with the jack before getting down on his bare knee. The skin digs into the gravel without a care, his kilt riding up and showing off his meaty thigh.

"Ah, looks like a large nail gotcha," he says, easily using the wrench on the lug nuts, taking off the tire.

"So it wasn't my driving," I say loudly, so Birdie can hear from where she leans against the hood.

"I wouldn't go that far," the man says, and I cross my arms over my chest. He laughs. It's deep and easy as he continues working on the tire. "Didn't mean to offend. I've changed many tires on these back roads."

"Glad to know I'm not special," I say off-handedly, and the man shakes his head.

"Now, I certainly didn’t say that."

He takes the old tire off, putting the new one on. I glance up at the van and see an older woman gawking at his show of masculinity, and I can't even blame them. This man is quite the specimen.

I might have my heats taken care of at facilities, and haven't had a boyfriend in nearly a decade, but it seems I can still appreciate a hot Alpha when I see one.

The kilt and the rolled up sweater sleeves don't hurt one bit. Uncharacteristically, I wonder what his scent is, and immediately shake the thought out of my head.

I'm just tired. The travel day has wiped me out, and this man has been our savior.

"Do you have much further to go?" he asks and I clear my throat.

"No, we're headed into town."

"Good. You'll want to have this temporary tire replaced. MacHenry's is good, he'll give you a fair price. Tell him Lain sent you," he says, tightening the last lug nut before using the jack again.

"Lain," I repeat.

He smiles again, his jaw sharp and strong as he digs into his black little satchel around his waist.

"If you and your sister find yourself in need of a tour guide, I'm the best there is, I'll even give you a discount," he says, handing me his card. "But I'll need to know your name in case you decide to reach out."

I arch a brow at him, pushing my glasses closer to my face. "Maisie, and this is my sister Birdie," I say, pointing at the vehicle and they exchange waves.

"Well, Maisie, I've got a van filled with tourists who have a castle to see. Drive safe. Don't forget, MacHenry's. If I find out you booked your tour with Rory, I’ll be highly offended." He walks away whistling for his dog. "Come on, Fergus.”

The dog rubs past my leg, my hand stroking his long fur before he trots behind his owner, getting into the van.

The tourists clap when Lain gets back on the van and he gives them a bow, but he doesn't drive off right away. He stares at me for a long moment and I stare back in confusion before I get into the car and start the engine.

As soon as I pull off the side of the road, Lain does the same.

He was waiting to make sure we got the car running.

When I turn and look at Birdie, she has a wild grin on her face.

"What?" I say, turning away and looking forward.

"Bonnie damsels in distress," she says with a snort. “At least we know mom wasn’t lying about Highland hospitality being top tier.”

I don't comment, and I certainly don't think about the Alpha or his kilt the rest of the drive to our B&B.

Absolutely not.