Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Sighing, I moved along the lighted porch toward the barn and startled to a stop when the tall Scot stepped out of his workshop. He took long strides toward me. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I was going to let you know I was leaving.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“Really, there’s no need. You’ve done enough.”
“I’ll follow you,” he said, his tone brokering no argument as he brushed by me on the porch. His earthy, musky scent caused this weird fluttering in my chest. “Just let me grab my keys.”
Stubborn yeti.
I made my way down to my car, eyes wide in the dark. I was barely in it when Ramsay reappeared again, Akiva at his heels. They jumped into his Defender with ease, and I did a three-point turn, driving out of the woodlands first. It took me a second in the dark to remember where I was supposed to turn, but thankfully, I made the correct choice. I had a feeling Ramsay already thought I was a useless nepo baby (and was now concerned the town did too), I didn’t want him thinking I was also directionally challenged.
Ramsay kept close behind me, his headlights kind of glaring, actually. But I made it to the causeway. There was still a little water but not enough to stop me from driving right onto it.
I frowned at the sight of Ramsay following me across.
Where the hell was he going?
Leth Sholas was quiet at this time of night. The only commercial building lit up was the volunteer lifeboat service building at the end of the main harbor road. There was no parking on the harbor front, other than in the designated tourist parking lots, so I drove down a side street that led me to the back of the apartment block that overlooked Half-Light Harbor. I was renting a guest apartment from Aodhan MacDuff, one of the local councilmen and property owners. He had quite a few rental properties across Glenvulin.
Parking was tight behind the apartment, but my spot was empty. Even with the beam of Ramsay’s headlights trying to fluster me, I swung the Suzuki around and reversed back into the space. Ramsay’s Defender sat in the entrance of the parking lot.
Hmm.
Getting out of the vehicle, I grabbed my backpack and gave him a wave as I hurried across the small lot to the back entrance. I fumbled with my key, but as soon as I opened the door, the headlights dimmed, and I watched as Ramsay reversed out. He paused suddenly, but I couldn’t see him beyond the glare of his lights.
Realization dawned.
He wasn’t leaving until I was safely inside.
Huh.
I darted into the building and locked the door behind me.
A mystery.
The man was a mystery wrapped up in well over six feet of delicious manliness.
Yes, he had been a dick.
But he was also kind of not.
That night, Ramsay McRae consumed my thoughts as I lay in bed trying to sleep. I hadn’t mooned over a guy like this since I was seventeen years old.
Oh my god.
I clapped a hand to my forehead in embarrassment.
I had a crush.
A girly, stupid crush.
“Kill me now,” I groaned, rolling over onto my side and pulling the covers tightly around me.
5. Tierney
Aweek later, my first coffee of the morning in hand, I opened my phone to a new text from Perri.
My heart leapt and I clicked on it.
I’ve finally tracked Adila. Flying to Sydney today. Will let you know if I make contact.
I quickly typed a response.
Okay. Please be careful.
I stood and walked over to the living room window of the apartment. It had a view over the harbor but nothing like the elevated vista my guests would have from the B and B. My stomach churned as it always did when I let my mind wander to the crusade I’d decided to fight.
My phone binged, drawing me out of my melancholy.
Cameron:
Are we still meeting at 10 a.m.?
I quickly typed one-handed.
Absolutely. See you then.
Beneath that text thread was an unopened message from Hugh.
I ignored it as I had been ignoring it for the past few days.
At the sight of a new text from London, however, I tapped on it:
Tell me Scotland is worth missing London.
I grinned at her pun. London Wetherspoon had been my best friend since the ninth grade. We’d both attended a private New York high school that wasn’t quite as vicious as Gossip Girl depicted, but we knew kids who lived in actual hotel rooms, who partied hard and dirty, and lived in a world of privilege beyond most people’s imagination. London’s parents were both top surgeons and she barely ever saw them. They were neglectful at best, emotionally abusive at worst. My parents were loving and hands-on and my mom was adamant I didn’t get sucked into a life of crazy ostentatiousness because of our wealth.
Despite her own privileged upbringing, London never acted like a pretentious asshole or superior to anyone who had less. She’d envied those whose parents were around and cared. Her parents only cared when London’s grades weren’t high enough. They’d stopped caring altogether when she refused to go to medical school and she’d used her trust fund to put herself through culinary school. London was now a sous chef at a restaurant in Manhattan and worked long hours.