Chapter 8
Calm Before the Storm
Raven
Is this what a hangover feels like? I don’t feel completely awful, just… sluggish. My body’s heavier than it should be, and my thoughts are tangled in a haze.
But that could just as easily be because of the dream I just had. I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments. Misty trees. A dense forest. And Kane.
I remember his face, the way his hand reached for mine, and how the air was crackling between us as if the world itself was holding its breath.
I shiver, rubbing my arms as I force my eyes open. The details slip away like smoke through my fingers. The more I try to grasp them, the faster they vanish.
I find Rachel sprawled across the bed, half-dressed and half-buried under the blankets. Her hair is a wild mess and she has one arm flopped over the edge of the bed like she passed out mid-sentence.
Yeah, that checks out.
She’ll be out for a few more hours.
I reach for my phone, squinting at the screen. 6:13 A.M. Ugh. I think about going back to sleep, but I already know I won’t. I’m not used to sleeping in and my mind is too restless to even try.
Rolling out of bed as quietly as possible, I grab a hoodie and slip outside to the front porch.
The morning air is crisp, and it bites at my skin just enough to wake me up.
I don't know how to explain it, but it smells different here.
I inhale deeply, letting it ground me as I settle into one of the chairs, tucking my legs under me.
I pull out my phone and flip through a few emails. There’s only one pressing thing on my list, one last work-related task I’ve allowed on this trip. And I’m determined to keep it that way.
I fire off a quick message to my assistant, double-checking that she’s got everything handled. More importantly, I make sure Louie and all my plants are still alive. That’s the real priority here. The rest can wait.
Honestly, I’m basically an old lady trapped in the body of a stripper. Just give me my cat, my plants, and a book, and I’ll happily avoid human interaction for days.
I smile, because I can totally picture Louie sprawled in his usual sunspot, likely plotting his next dramatic display of disdain for my absence. I miss that furry little creature.
I lean back against the chair, letting the cool breeze chase away the last remnants of sleep and start to open the email I was looking for when it hits me like a ton of bricks.
I went to a pub last night. I got drunk.
And made out with a hot man. An infuriatingly hot Scottish man, who drove us home because we got lost when my phone died.
And because I seem to be on a roll with questionable life choices, I also gave said annoying man my phone number!
“UGGHHH.” I groan into my hands while my body decides that now is the perfect time to flood with warmth. Seriously? Now?
Maybe he forgot I gave it to him. I mean, he was probably just as drunk as I was… right? And besides, he might not be able to find it in his contacts. That’ll teach him to call me Princess.
I roll my eyes at myself. Yeah, sure. Like a man that full of himself wouldn’t be able to scroll through his contacts and figure out which one was mine.
Deep down, though, I know better. He probably remembers everything.
But for now, I’ll cling to the very slim hope that he was too distracted, or too drunk, to put the pieces together.
I sigh and force my focus back on my phone, attempting to drown myself in the one thing that always helps. Work. Prioritizing tasks. Review deadlines. Confirm Louie’s care.
Yet, no matter how hard I try, my thoughts keep drifting back to Kane. His hands. His voice. The way he kissed me.
Damn it.
Nope. Not doing this.
My stomach growls loud enough to shake me back into reality. Right. We didn’t really eat dinner last night. It's just low blood sugar, not Kane-induced hysteria.
I toss my phone onto the table, email completely forgotten, and stand. If Rachel’s going to sleep in, the least I can do is grab us something to eat. I need to walk off some of this restless energy anyway.
I pull on some leggings and slip into my Converse, giving myself a once-over in the mirror. I'm presentable enough to step outside without scaring small children. Good enough.
If I’m lucky, she'll be awake by the time I get back, and we can figure out our plans for the day. Preferably, plans that don’t involve men.
I grab a notepad off the nightstand and scribble a quick note, leaving it on her phone.
I slip outside and double check that the door is locked before heading down the quiet street.
There’s something oddly satisfying about being out while the world is still waking up.
The usual chaos hasn’t settled in yet, and the hush of early morning feels like it belongs to just me.
The hum of distant voices, the rhythmic sweep of a broom against the cobblestones, and the occasional dog barking.
It’s a different kind of music; one I didn’t realize I missed.
While I'm walking, I remember the cute little café we passed on our way to the pub last night. The streets are bathed in morning light, making everything look softer. And for a moment, I wonder if I could be happy here.
I get it now. I get why my grandparents loved this place so much. The scent of pine and damp earth lingers in the air, the distinct after-rain freshness that feels like home in a way I can’t explain.
I’m admiring the architecture of a particularly charming townhouse, when I collide with someone.
“Oh! Excuse me! I'm so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?” I stammer, looking up at an older gentleman.
The man chuckles, his warm, rich accent instantly soothes my nerves. “That’s quite alright, lass.” He winks. “Now, if I’d fallen, I might’ve cursed ye for knockin’ me down. Only because I’d need a crane to get back up.”
A laugh bubbles out of me despite myself. His humor is disarming, and the crinkles around his eyes deepen when he smiles.
“Ye looked miles away. Lost in thought, were ya?”
I brush a stray curl behind my ear, nodding. “Yeah… something like that.”
He hums knowingly. “Aye, happens to the best of us. This place has a way of sweepin’ people up. It calls to ye. Especially if ye’ve got old ties here.”
Something shifts in my chest, feeling like an invisible thread being pulled tight. Old ties? The way he says it makes my stomach flip.
Before I can ask what he means, he shifts the conversation smoothly, like he wasn’t just on the verge of saying something important.
“So how are you likin’ her so far?”
I chuckle, trying to shake off the strange weight of his words. “I just can’t get enough of how beautiful it is here.”
His eyes glint with something unreadable. “Oh, that she is… Scotland is indeed beautiful.” His voice is soft, yet threaded with something deeper, something I can't place. “She’s full of magic and mystery. Enjoy your stay… and be mindful of those Highlanders, lassie.”
I nearly choke. “Wait, what?” My eyes widen. “Are the men here dangerous?”
His brow furrows for a split second, but then he chuckles. “No, lass, not dangerous… just determined.”
Something about the way he says it makes my skin prickle. Aye.
“A beautiful woman like yourself won’t stay unclaimed for long,” he continues, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No need to go lookin’ for him. He’ll find ye.”
His words settle over me like a whisper carried in the wind. I open my mouth to object and tell him I’m definitely not looking for a man. But before I can, he nods at me with a warm smile and continues down the sidewalk, humming softly.
I exhale, rolling my eyes at the entire encounter.
I shake my head, pushing it to the back of my mind with everything else, and reach for my phone, only to come up empty. Seriously?
I could’ve sworn I grabbed it before I left.
With an annoyed sigh, I shove my hands into my hoodie. Whatever.
The café comes into view, and it's a cozy little spot with flower boxes bursting with vibrant blooms lining all the windows. It seems so inviting, like a hidden world tucked away from the rest of the street.
I push open the door and the rich aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods wraps around me.
Inside, the atmosphere is calm since only a handful of people are scattered at the tables.
The décor in here is charming. The rustic wood accents and the soft lighting makes it feel like the kind of place you keep a secret.
I walk toward the counter to place my order, but something in the corner catches my eye. I see a small bookshelf tucked under the window. I walk over, and there's a weathered book with its spine cracked. You can tell its pages are worn with age.
Scottish Folklore and Legends.
The title alone sends a shiver through me. Its faded cover has intricate symbols curling across the leather like vines. The moment I see it, it reminds me of the book I found after my grandpa died.
That familiar pang tugs at my heart and I feel a mixture of nostalgia and something heavier. I exhale sharply, setting the book down and forcing my feet back toward the counter. Food first. Weird, magical book later.
I look up just as a tall man moves from the counter, his dark hair catching in the soft light. My body stills as a rush of either panic or excitement hits me all at once. I swallow, feeling my pulse spike when he turns slightly.
It's not him.
Relief crashes through me so quickly it leaves behind something I refuse to name. I shake my head at myself, mentally forcing my heart to calm the hell down. The last thing I need is to run into him this morning. Especially after last night.
Just the memory makes my skin heat.
I drag my gaze back to the menu and end up ordering a little bit of everything. Tea, coffee, pastries, and fruit. My inability to make a decision is now disguised as a breakfast feast.