6. Locke
LOCKE
Istared up at the distillery, frustration pulsing in my temples.
A week had passed since I’d done the initial walkthrough of the property—and since I’d learned I was going to be a father—and everything was falling apart, brick by brick.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, finding a text from Weston.
Where are you?
Surveying the distillery property, I replied.
Ah, mate. Maybe you need to let that one go. After what happened with Dougal, I’m not sure there’s anything you can do.
I started typing, then stopped, struggling to find the words.
I wasn’t a man who easily admitted defeat, but when it came to the MacRaes, both father and daughter, I’d definitely met my match.
I’d crashed and burned at convincing Isla I wanted to take responsibility for my child, and I’d also seriously screwed things up with her father.
I was usually great at closing a deal, but when we’d met up, all I could do was put my foot in my mouth.
By the time Dougal showed me to the door, he was sputtering like a steam engine.
Hurry up and get back to Lochbrae, Weston wrote. Aisling wants to hang out with her favorite uncle.
Don’t tell Alistair I’m the favorite. He’ll be jealous.
A smirking-face emoji popped up. Aisling said it’s our secret.
That got a small smile out of me, but Weston’s advice lingered on my mind, only adding to my frustration. Let that one go.
That’s not what Fraser Developments did. That’s not what I did. When I wanted something, really wanted something, I made it happen. I sighed, the breath rattling between my teeth as I surveyed the semi-derelict building before me.
The setting was so beautiful. Turning this space into a luxury hotel and spa was the perfect way to make sure the natural elements could be preserved while giving it a new purpose that would bring in value for the community.
I envisioned gardens and walking paths, a mix of cultivation with a touch of wildness to keep the whole atmosphere fresh and natural.
We’d sell it as a retreat away from the hustle and bustle of regular life, marketing the hell out of all the natural beauty this area of Braeburn had to offer.
An inky splotch of black smoke crawled across that image, polluting my plans.
It really would be a shame to lose the rich beauty of the area to some factory that would bulldoze the space and lay down some multi-story parking lot.
But how did I make Dougal understand that when the man was refusing to take another meeting with me?
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked around the side of the building, envisioning the large glass doors that would lead to an enclosed balcony overlooking the woods. The burbling of the stream and the wind through the trees was the only ambiance we’d need.
Rustle. Rustle.
I turned at the sound, my eyes widening as a large gray shape shot out of the overgrown grass. I stumbled out of reach of two muddy paws as the dog launched himself in my direction.
“Ranger!” a voice cried.
I caught sight of Isla hurrying down the path toward us.
“So sorry!” she hurried to say, breathless. “He doesn’t normally take off like—” She stopped short. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Can’t you control this thing?” I said as Ranger took another leap at me. His wiry coat was flecked with mud.
She wrinkled her nose. “He seems to have taken a liking to you for some reason. Can’t figure out why.”
Ranger yipped, bounding between us like it was a game. He returned to my side, shaking out his coat.
“Damn dog!” I grumbled, holding my arms up to shield my face. I glanced down at myself when he was done, surveying the damage. I was wearing linen for Christ’s sake. “Why is it that I’m always being pelted with mud around you?”
“I think that says something about you, not me,” Isla said, flicking that blonde ponytail off her shoulder.
Now that I was really looking at her, I noted the fine sheen of sweat along her skin.
She was clad in a running set that fit her very, very well.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t let my eyes linger longer than they should over those hips and the dip of her waist and… Not the time!
I cleared my throat. “How, uh, are you feeling?”
She looked like she was barely holding back an eyeroll. “I’m fine, Locke.”
“You were out running?”
She nodded. “I usually take Ranger out a few times a week on the trail. He needs to burn off a little energy, and he can’t do that in the inn.”
“And running’s, uh, safe in your condition?”
She cocked her head, a smile creeping across her face. “I’m not gonna pop like a pinata if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Er, no, I—” I scrubbed at the back of my neck, huffing a laugh. “Truthfully, I don’t know a damn thing about how any of that works.”
“Exercise is safe during pregnancy,” she explained. “Encouraged, even. Especially if it’s something you did consistently before becoming pregnant.”
“Right, good. That’s good.”
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, getting Ranger back on his leash.
“Just…checking up on the place.” I didn’t want to tell her I was wallowing in defeat.
There were other properties out there. I knew that.
But I couldn’t get this one out of my mind.
I couldn’t stop envisioning the way I could help transform Braeburn into a real tourist destination that helped local businesses thrive.
She pursed her lips. “Well, I’ll leave you to your check-up. C’mon, Ranger.”
She started to turn away, but suddenly, I didn’t want her to go. “Where’s that swing set you were telling me about?” I called. “The one you played on when you were little?”
She paused, her eyebrows knitting together as she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m surprised you remember me mentioning that.”
“I remember everything you told me.”
She seemed taken aback for a beat, but then she collected herself and inclined her head around the building.
“It was this way.” She set off, and I took that as my invitation to follow.
She lifted her finger, pointing out a small patch of pavement bordered by weeds and wildflowers.
“The swing set is gone now, but it sat just there. If I swung high enough, I could peek into Dad’s office. ”
Ranger bumped my hand with the cold tip of his nose as I fell in step with Isla. I patted him on the top of his head. He grumbled.
Isla snorted. “He wants a better scratch than that.”
“He’s filthy,” I pointed out.
“You’ll survive, Poshpants. I promise.”
Ranger bumped my hand again, and I gave him a better scratch behind the ears. He leaned into me, tail wagging.
“Over there,” Isla said, pointing out a large, shady tree, “I used to have a table. I’d sit there and color or have picnics.”
“With your dolls?” I asked, imagining a tiny girl with teacups and finger sandwiches.
Her lips twitched. “No, I couldn’t stand dolls. My mother let me paint pet rocks.”
“Pet rocks?” I laughed. Not what I would have guessed, but the more I thought about it, the more it suited her.
“Okay, Mr. Judgy,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Let me guess, you had a collection of stuffed animals wearing tiny business suits?”
I smirked. “Close. I had a collector set of Hot Wheels that I took around with me everywhere in a little case.”
Isla was trying not to laugh. “That’s horribly adorable. Now I’m just imagining a tiny Locke in a suit with his briefcase full of toy cars.”
“It wasn’t a briefcase.”
“In my head it is.”
My thoughts momentarily shifted to the baby. Would they like cars? Books? Painting? Video games? Isla caught my eye, and for a second, I wondered if we were thinking the same thing. I cleared my throat. “Sounds like you spent a lot of time outside.”
“It was easy to. Our house was just down there,” she said, pointing out a trail. It was the opposite direction from where Weston and I had walked.
“It’s on the lot?” I was surprised to hear that. “The estate agent didn’t mention a dwelling.”
“It’s not really livable anymore—it needs too much work. I figured whoever bought the property would tear it down.” She sounded a little sad. “It hasn’t been occupied since my mom and I moved out sixteen years ago. But I have lots of fond memories there.”
“How old were you when you left?”
She hummed. “Seven.”
I wondered briefly what had happened between her mother and Dougal. What prompted her to take Isla to the other side of the world? It didn’t feel like the right time to ask, so I filed the question away for later. “I was only a little older than that when I came to Braeburn for the first time.”
“You went to Weston’s grandad’s camp, right?” she said. “I’ve heard about some of your Highland adventures.”
“Oh, boy,” I said. “How much has he told you?”
“I know all about you falling in sheep shit, if that’s what you’re asking.” She flashed me a wicked grin. “Now that I think about it, that feels very on-brand.”
I shook my head, trying to shake off the residue of embarrassment that particular memory always left me with. “It’s funny the things we remember from childhood.”
“I know what you mean.” She released a heavy breath.
“This is the place where my parents’ marriage fell apart, but I mostly remember the good things.
How happy the waterfall made my mother. The picnics we used to have, among the blooming heather.
The butterflies that used to descend upon the wildflower meadows behind our house. ”
“It sounds like a fairy tale.”
“I think parts of it were.” A soft smile took over her face. “For me, anyway.”
I stopped walking. “Then it really would be a shame for your family’s legacy to be swallowed up by some factory. You’d never get to share these special places with the baby.”
The smile dropped from her face, and her expression closed off. “Right,” she said, voice icing over. “I forgot that you’re only interested in using me to help with your business deal. Just FYI, I’m not going to be your pawn.”