Chapter 2
WESTON
“Lena!” I barked as I flung my office door open, stalking out to the reception area. Milo bounded past me, tail wagging, yipping excitedly. But despite what he seemed to think, this was far from a game.
“Don’t talk to me. I’m on my break,” she snapped from her desk, rapidly tossing things into her purse.
Break? She never took breaks like this. Not when we were in the middle of something. Not when I needed her. “We don’t have time for faffing about right—”
“Don’t start dictating my job to me!” Lena said, thumping her laptop down in her bag. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at me. “Because frankly, you have no idea about half the things I do for you.”
“Well, you can check ‘giving your boss a migraine’ off your to-do list.”
She sucked in a breath, and her cheeks flushed, that pink hue stretching along her jawline and down her neck. She always blushed like that when she was particularly aggravated, and every time, it tested my resolve to keep from letting my gaze chase the color to where it disappeared down her chest.
As it happened, I wasn’t tested that way very often.
Lena rarely lost her cool. She was discreet, poised, and incredibly efficient.
But on the rare occasions when she lost her temper, I marveled at the way her body reacted: her petite frame coiled like a snake about to strike, her delicate, fragile features suddenly all sharp angles, those blue eyes flashing like a warning, her wavy, dark hair slipping from its tight bun.
She was never more invigorating than when she was taking someone to task.
It just usually wasn’t me. And maybe that’s why I had the sudden urge to reach out and tangle one of those dark strands of hair around my fingers. But knowing her, she’d try to snap at my hand.
Lena crossed her arms against her chest, the disgruntled scowl on her face dragging me back to reality. “You’re lucky that’s all I’ve given you! I cannot believe Milo has better manners than you do.”
Milo barked at the sound of his name, racing to Lena’s side, tail wagging as he awaited praise or snacks or both.
Lena gave him a quick pet before hiking her purse up her arm. “But you know what? Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Because Milo passed his obedience training. Unlike you, who clearly skipped out on the class on basic human decency.”
Milo found one of his stuffed toys and tossed it up in the air, the toy landing on the desk between us.
“Lena—”
She raised a thin, delicate finger in my direction, then picked up a stack of files and shoved them in my arms. “Sign these before you get on your flight.”
“And where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.”
My frustration flared like a gasoline-fed flame. “I haven’t dismissed you for the day.”
Her eyes flashed, something dangerous in their depths.
“I put up with so much shit for you,” she said, shaking her head.
“Answering your damn phone calls in the middle of the night. Smoothing things over with the board when you offend someone for the fiftieth time. Directing your one-night stands out the door when they get a little too clingy. Assuring everyone that ‘no, Weston definitely doesn’t have an exotic Scottish STI’ like your damn ex keeps insisting. ”
Her voice was tight, her words trembling. “But this arrogance…this entitlement…this…GAH! It’s a bridge too far! I’m not marrying you, I’m not going to Scotland with you, and I’m also not picking up your dry cleaning today! So have fun with that.”
The elevator dinged suddenly, and the door rolled open. I didn’t look over, my eyes still locked on Lena, but someone must have gotten out because Milo bounded over to greet the new arrival.
“Does the bossman have a minute for me?” I heard Arnie FitzPatrick, my head of sustainability compliance, call. I groaned internally.
Milo bounded back to my side and snatched a file from Lena’s desk in his excitement. I snagged him by the collar, attempting to wrestle the file away. “Drop it!”
“He’s got time for you now, Arnie,” Lena said, waving the insufferable man in my direction.
“Perfect,” Arnie said, waltzing over. “I wanted to talk about the company’s carbon offset projects.”
Lena shot me a shit-eating grin, then turned for the elevator. I rubbed my eyes. I didn’t have time to talk about tree planting or soil regeneration or whatever the hell else Arnie had come up with.
“Lena!” I called. “We’re not done here.”
“Do me a favor, Weston, and get on the damn helicopter!” she said, jamming her finger into the elevator button.
Fucking hell!
“Listen, boss,” Arnie said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve got this lead on an alpaca farm in rural Bolivia that captures methane.”
“Arnie, I don’t have time for this,” I snapped as I continued to fight Milo for the file.
But I wasn’t fast enough. Milo flung his head up, yanking the file out of my grip and sending it flying through the air.
The papers exploded everywhere, fluttering down as I watched the elevator door close on Lena’s fiery expression.
“It’s expensive and a little obscure,” Arnie admitted, “but if it all works out, we’d be industry leaders in—”
“Arnie,” I growled, trying to shove the man off as I snatched the scattered papers from the floor before Milo could trample them.
I didn’t want to hear about alpacas right now.
And Lena damn well knew that. Letting Arnie in to talk my ear off was one of her favorite ways to show me when I’d ticked her off, but today, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The elevator dinged again.
I whirled around, praying to God Lena had come to her senses.
But instead of Lena, another woman—middle-aged, tight perm—spilled out, clutching her belongings. She walked over, took one look at the mess, sighed, and sat herself down in Lena’s spot.
I blinked at her as she opened her company-issued laptop.
Milo whined, turning his big, dopey eyes on me like it was my fault Lena had disappeared, leaving this woman in her wake.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked, gruffer than I’d intended.
She glanced up at me under wire-rimmed glasses. “Nancy Clarence, sir.”
“Weston,” Arnie said, trying to get my attention back. “If we’re going to jump on this, it should be now. I think the PR alone—”
“And what are you doing here?” I asked Nancy, holding my hand up to hush Arnie.
Nancy’s eyes widened in confused surprise. “Well, er…I’m from the secretarial pool. Lena called down saying that you’d require coverage for the day because she had to step out for an emergency.”
Emergency? All I did was ask her to marry me. How on earth was that an emergency? This whole thing was ridiculous, and when she came back, I was going to tell her as much. I released a heated breath. “Did she say when she’d be back?”
“I don’t know anything else. Sorry, sir,” Nancy said. “I just go where I’m told.”
Of fucking course she does.
I turned and stalked back into my office, slamming the door before Arnie could follow. I snatched my phone from my desk, immediately dialing Lena’s number. She had some bloody nerve pulling this today of all days.
I pressed the phone close to my ear as it connected.
“You’ve reached Lena Harp at…” I growled, hanging up as the voicemail started to play.
Lena never sent me to voicemail. Not even that time I made her find an emergency vet on Christmas morning because Milo kept pawing at his nose, and I was worried he’d gotten into a wasp nest again.
Well, this was all just grand. I’d have to keep calling her until she did pick up. My thumb hovered over her name, preparing to dial her again when my phone started ringing.
Lachlan Fraser.
“All right?” he asked when I answered.
“Finally decided to phone, did ya?” I’d known Locke since Grandad’s Highland Adventure Camp brought us together over two decades ago.
“Told you my reception was shite,” Locke said. And it was. That was why I’d sent him an email while he was traveling to let him know about Grandad. “But I’ve just landed back in the UK.”
I released an unsteady breath.
“Seriously,” he said, concerned. “How’s things?”
“Could be better, honestly. Today isn’t off to a great start.”
Locke sighed. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. When I got your email…”
“I know,” I said, a sharp wave of grief flaring in my chest. I’d been so busy trying to sort things since I’d found out about the heart attack, I’d hardly taken a moment to feel the weight of Grandad’s loss.
“It doesn’t feel real,” I admitted. “Part of me still thinks I’m going to turn up at Lochbrae and find him going off for a stalk. ”
Locke laughed softly. “Dressed in his tweed.”
“Wellies on.” I’d never been much for deer hunting, but it was a very traditional upper-class pursuit, especially in the Highlands. And Grandad had loved his tradition.
“He was a good man,” Locke said.
“He was.” And he meant a lot to both of us.
Lochbrae had been a safe place to land after my parents’ divorce, and when everything else was so uncertain, Grandad had always been there for me.
I swallowed down a surge of emotion. It stuck uncomfortably in my chest, and I knuckled the space between my ribs.
“When’s the funeral?” Locke asked.
“Several days still. I have to sort it with the funeral director. But don’t trouble yourself if you’ve got—”
“Don’t be daft,” Locke said, cutting me off. “Alistair and I will both be there. We wouldn’t miss it. You know how much Grandad Pete meant to us both.”
I swallowed hard, glad that time and distance and the responsibilities that came from running businesses hadn’t worn away at the rock-solid friendship the three of us had formed as boys.
“We’ll lay him to rest,” Locke said. “And then hit the pub in Braeburn. Send him off with a pint.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what he always said he wanted.”
“Is it just the funeral that has you sounding so knackered?” Locke asked.
I rubbed my eyes. “No…I got off the phone with Grandad’s solicitor not long ago.”
“Talking about the will?”
“Aye, what a nightmare.”