5. Isla
ISLA
“He’s a daft idiot,” Cat said, topping up my mug with English breakfast. My best friend knew the kitchen at the inn almost as well as I did—especially where I kept the tea—and she had insisted on brewing while I ranted. “But most men are. I suppose you can’t hold that against him.”
I snorted, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my tired eyes. I felt like I’d lived an entire lifetime since that disastrous conversation with Locke yesterday.
I summoned a smile. In the few short years I’d been back in Braeburn, Cat had carved out a place in my life like she’d always belonged there.
She owned the cat café next door, and I’d spent more evenings there than I could count, sprawled out on the floor with cat treats and a range of furry, purry felines snuggled against me.
They said a purring cat could actually be healing.
Whether that was medically proven or not, it certainly felt true as I’d worked through my grief after losing my mom.
“That’s okay,” I said, clutching my mug between my hands.
It was decorated with pictures of Ranger on one of his many walks behind the distillery.
I could feel his warm breath against my toes where he’d curled up on the floor.
“I mean, this baby has to cook for eight more months. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up on my drama. ”
“But did Locke really not say anything?” she asked, raising her mug to her lips.
“Nothing productive.” I sighed. Cat was the only other person who knew about the baby. And, so far, her reaction had been far superior to the kid’s own father. Irritation prickled against my skin. “All he could do was sputter like a car engine. It was awful.”
Cat grimaced.
“Like, on one hand, I get it,” I said. “This is a huge thing to dump on someone, especially considering we hardly know each other. But I wasn’t prepared to get that positive test back either. You sort of just have to rally, you know?”
“Be an adult about it,” Cat said, agreeing. “Make practical decisions.”
“Exactly!” Frustration surged through me. “Why is the woman always expected to hold it together while the man gets to have an existential crisis?”
“It’s that bullshite patriarchy,” Cat said.
“I KNOW!” I cried. Ranger jerked beneath the table. I reached down to pat his head where it rested against my knee. “Did I want to have a complete meltdown when I found out? Sure. Did I have time for that? No. Because now I’m growing this tiny little life, and they need me to sort my shit out.”
Cat reached out and squeezed my hand. It was warm from her mug. “And I’m here to support. I’ll help you fix up the nursery and shop for baby clothes and strollers and all that.”
“You’d make a much better baby-daddy.”
She shot me a cheeky grin. “I’m going to be such a cool aunt.”
“And that’s all we need,” I said, rubbing my still-flat belly.
“Not some guy who’s all like ‘You’re…what?
Could you repeat that? But we…We used…’” I’d always had a knack for impressions, and I modeled his tone perfectly, deepening my voice and rolling my Rs.
“Like everyone knows condoms are only so effective. Why do I have to explain that to a grown man?”
The grin on Cat’s face disappeared faster than a midge in winter.
“Not a bad impression,” a rumbling voice said.
Shit. I glanced over my shoulder to find Locke standing in the doorway, a small smile playing at his mouth, looking unfairly good in the warm kitchen light. Gah! Momentary panic surged through me as the red-hot flame of embarrassment bit at my cheeks.
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” Cat muttered under her breath.
I fought the urge to hide my face, narrowing my eyes at Locke instead. I hadn’t realized he was standing there, but what did I care if he’d overheard? Everything I’d said was true.
“If the inn doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got a future in voice work,” he said.
“Yes, that’s how I’ll be supporting our child,” I quipped.
Cat’s lips twitched. She stood and carried the kettle to the sink for more water.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. And who’d even let him back in the kitchen? This area was for employees only. I’d left Maisie managing the front desk. Had he managed to slip past her?
Locke cleared his throat. “Lena told me you like to take your tea around this time.” For the first time, I realized he was holding a tin. “She sent me over with a peace offering of shortbread. Agnes made them.”
I pursed my lips.
“Agnes, you say?” Cat leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. She was practically drooling, her eyes locked on the tin.
I didn’t want his peace offering, but everyone knew Weston’s housekeeper, Agnes, was the best cook in town. Refusing him would be like turning down biscuit gold.
“I should probably inspect the goods,” Cat said, holding her hand out for the tin.
Locke regarded her, eyebrow arched slightly, sizing her up, probably wondering who she was and why the hell she was talking to him.
“This is Cat,” I said curtly, introducing them. “She owns the café next door.”
“Nice to meet you.” His eyes flickered between us. “Isla, I was hoping we could chat,” he said. “Alone.”
Cat plopped herself in a chair and stared at him pointedly. “Just consider me part of the furniture.”
“I’d rather not.”
She crossed her arms, one thin black eyebrow lifting in challenge. “Well, it’s not your kitchen, so I’d say that’s not your decision.”
Locke frowned, opening his mouth to respond.
“She’s staying,” I interrupted coolly. Part of me knew this was Cat wanting to have my back.
The other part of me knew she was absolutely loving the drama.
I could tell she was restraining herself from grabbing popcorn.
But I loved my gossip queen bestie, and either way, Locke wasn’t about to kick my friends out of my kitchen.
“She already knows about the baby. Now what do you want?”
His gaze dropped to my belly, his nostrils flaring. I could tell he was getting annoyed. “Obviously to talk about…logistics.”
I crossed my arms. “I already told you, I’m fine on my own.
I have no issue being a single parent.” My mom had done it, and she’d been amazing.
It’s not like I didn’t have a dad at all, but my parents divorced when I was seven, and after Mom and I moved to the US, Dad wasn’t really part of my life anymore.
It had been me and Mom against the world.
Now, it could be me and baby against the world. We’d be fine. No, we’d be great.
Locke ran his hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. You just…caught me off guard. I intend to be part of my child’s life.”
“Oh, do you?”
He took a step toward me. “I’m not going to ditch this responsibility.”
He sounded serious and sincere, but this was the same man who’d had a meltdown about sheep and his precious car getting muddy. “Sure you’re not just worried about how it would look for your company?” I said.
“How does us having a child have anything to do with my company?” he fired back.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I can see it now: Luxury property developer ditches local lass after knocking her up.”
“Now that sounds like a headline,” Cat agreed.
Locke huffed, but it was true. This unplanned pregnancy had the potential to further muddy his company’s reputation. That was the last thing he needed right now. I didn’t follow business news at all, and even I’d heard about how his last deal had fallen apart.
“What?” I said to him. “Did your PR team realize what a terrible look it would be if word got out that you’d abandoned the girl you got pregnant?”
Cat snorted. “Forget his PR team. Does he really think his newest plan will go through once word gets out about this?”
“Wait, what?” I said, turning to my friend.
“You haven’t heard?” she asked. “Old Jo stopped by the café this morning, talking about Weston’s friend trying to buy up the old distillery.”
I whipped my head back in Locke’s direction. “You’re after my father’s property?”
“I took a look at it,” he admitted. “It has good potential.”
“Is that why you’re suddenly putting on the charm offensive?” Cat accused. “Because you realized you’ll never convince Dougal to sell to you if he thinks you’ve abandoned Isla?”
Locke tried to sputter out a reply, but I didn’t give him a chance.
“That’s your angle?” My heart lurched in my chest. “You need to play nice with me to get my father to play ball.” Oh, hell no. My eyes narrowed.
“That’s not what’s happening here,” Locke protested. “And that’s not the reason I came to talk to you.”
“Sure it isn’t. You have nothing to say about being a damn father, but now you’re here to use the kid as a pawn.”
He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath. “I genuinely want to support this child. That would still be the case even if there wasn’t a real estate deal at stake.”
I snorted. “Right. Says the evil property developer.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why that’s an issue anyway. You should be thrilled that I’m interested in buying the property.”
“Oh boy,” I shot back, “I love when men tell me how I should feel.”
A breath hissed out between his teeth. “You and I both know my offer would be better for the town.”
“What do you mean, ‘better’?” I asked, suspicious. What did he know that I didn’t?
“The other interested party intends to build a factory. You don’t really want that to go up on the land, do you?”
I swallowed down my shock. I’d had no idea someone wanted to build a factory on the land, but now that I did, I didn’t even want to envision it.
All those trails trampled. The trees steam rolled.
Garbage dumped into the stream. But that didn’t automatically mean his development plan was any better—whatever the hell that was.
Because I doubted it was a nature reserve.
“All you did was gush about how much you loved that land,” Locke said. “If you really care about it as much as you say, then you should be all for me buying it.”
Heat spread through me. I knew this song and dance. I’d been used by a guy for financial gain before. Locke was sucking up to me to smooth the way for his purchase, but I wasn’t playing that game. “Well, I’ve heard enough,” I said. “Thanks for dropping by.”
His face fell. “Isla, don’t do this.”
“There’s the door.” I wasn’t interested in any more empty promises. “I don’t need you, and this baby certainly doesn’t either.”
“And we’re keeping the shortbread!” Cat said, clutching the tin to her chest.
Without another word, Locke turned and stalked out of the kitchen.
“Well,” Cat said after a beat, tilting her head in my direction. “Like I said earlier, daft idiot.”
I hummed in agreement, trying to breathe through all the frustration and annoyance.
Cat rose to her feet. “I’ve gotta run and give the cats their dinner. You’ll be okay?”
I nodded. “Of course. Thanks for coming over.”
“Always.” She squeezed me from behind. “Text me if you need me.”
Cat headed off, and I finished my tea, sampling Agnes’s shortbread for dessert because I deserved it. I groaned as it melted against my tongue. It was so good, but even those buttery carbs couldn’t distract me from Locke trying to buy the distillery. How serious was he?
Only one person could answer that. I picked up my phone and dialed my father.
“Hiya, love,” he said when the call connected.
“Hi, Dad. All right?”
“It’s good to hear from you.” He sounded genuinely delighted, which made me feel a burst of guilt. I pushed it down. Yes, I should probably call more, but phones worked both ways. If he wanted to talk to me more, it wouldn’t kill him to put in the effort. “How are you? What’s been going on?”
“I actually called because I…want to talk about the property.”
“Which property?” he said.
“The distillery in Braeburn.”
He chuckled. “Oh, that old thing.”
“What are your plans for it?” I asked, getting right down to business.
“You know I intend to sell it, love.”
“Yes, but to who?” I wondered. “Is it really going to either end up as a factory or whatever Fraser Developments has planned for it?”
Dad made a disgruntled huff. “Oh, has word already gotten out about Fraser Development’s offer? I daresay Old Jo’s been at it again. Never met that woman’s match for keeping her ear to the ground.”
“Yes, but who are you going to sell it to?” I interrupted.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Are there any other options?” I asked hopefully. “Because neither one sounds very good to me.”
I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”
I gritted my teeth, giving Ranger a pat to keep my composure.
“Hey, you never got back to me about coming down to Edinburgh for dinner,” he continued. “What’s the chat?”
I sighed. We didn’t need to do dinner. He was always saying that he’d like to see me more, but he took it for granted that I would come to him, rather than the other way around.
I didn’t doubt that my father loved me, but that didn’t mean he treated me as a priority.
When it came to personal relationships, Dad always expected someone else to do the heavy lifting.
“Dad, if you really want to sell the distillery—”
“Put it from your mind,” he said like he was waving me off. “I’ve got it handled.”
I grimaced, biting down on my retort at his dismissiveness. “I don’t know why you won’t just sell it to me. You know I could get the money together—enough to offer you a fair price.”
He scoffed, not taking the idea seriously—yet again. We’d had this conversation before. “What are you going to do with an old distillery, sweetheart?”
“Protect the property from all the other people who want to destroy it! I could—”
“Isla, I’m not letting you throw all your savings away for that decrepit building.”
“It’s not about the building.” I’d tried to explain this over and over again, but he didn’t understand. Whatever memories, whatever fondness I had of the place, he shared none of it.
“I have to think about what’s best for the town,” Dad said.
“I’ve seen how Weston’s wind farm has benefited Braeburn, already generating revenue, making it a cornerstone of sustainable energy in Scotland.
That’s really made me think about what the community needs to thrive. The factory jobs would be good for it.”
Oh shite. “Dad, if you would just reconsider—”
“I’ve gotta run, love,” he said suddenly. “I’m taking some new potential distributors to dinner. We’ll talk later and work out when you’re coming down.”
He hung up before I’d even muttered goodbye. I dropped my phone on the table harder than I should have, startling Ranger. He knocked his head on the wood as he darted out from under the table.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said, giving him a rub between the ears. He looked up at me with those giant brown eyes. “Men suck.”
He woofed.
I dropped my hand to my belly and sighed. “But at least I’ve got you.”