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)
I saw Greig and Cammie exchange a look of sympathy and I blanched.
It had been six weeks. I didn’t want people looking at me with those pitying looks anymore, but it was hard after Ramsay’s colossal assholian move at the Lantern. Sure, it was common knowledge he hadn’t slept with the folk singer, because said folk singer had complained to Taran and Ewan the next morning at the coffee shop about it. Ewan had proceeded to tell everyone. Now people were creating narratives in their heads about why Ramsay didn’t sleep with her, and I didn’t need their narratives when I was trying not to overanalyze the ones my own heart produced.
In the end, it didn’t matter. He’d still humiliated me in front of everyone and that was enough for me. I was done. We were done. I’d avoided Ramsay as much as possible and we hadn’t spoken since. I could have spent days in my bed, crying and bemoaning the end of something truly special, but I’d spent too much of life lately grieving. I didn’t want to grieve someone who wouldn’t grieve me back.
Instead, I got on with life and with healing. We’d celebrated Halloween and the only island festivities I avoided was the Halloween ceilidh because the pipe band played at it. Thankfully, Ramsay avoided the haunted trail that Cammie and Quinn’s parents allowed to happen on their land. It kind of reminded me of an American haunted hayride. I helped out. It kept me busy, distracted.
Now it was a cold and wet November. Ramsay and the pipe band were on Skye this weekend to do a couple of gigs, and Cammie had decided it was the perfect weekend to put all the finishing touches on the guesthouse dining room. The first completed room in the B and B.
Because Greig was smitten with her, she’d roped him into helping us collect the Welsh dresser from Ramsay’s barn.
I was shocked Ramsay had given Cammie the keys.
Pulling up outside his home, however, I hadn’t expected to get slammed by so much emotion.
What I’d had with Ramsay took place over a month, a short span of time in the grand scheme of things, but it had been the kind of passionate affair I didn’t really believe existed between two human beings until it happened to us.
And that hurt so fucking much because it was like any loss. You mourned the loss of possibility too.
“You okay?” Cammie asked as Greig jumped out of the vehicle.
I avoided her question. “I hope you’re not leading him on.”
Cammie nudged my shoulder. “Stop changing the subject.”
I gave her a serious look. “Are you leading him on?”
“He’s young, he’s sexy, and he wants me.” She shrugged. “I’m tired of searching for ‘the one.’ We’re having fun.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized they were … “So, you’re already …?”
“Last night.” She waggled her eyebrows. “For a young ’un, he knows what he’s doing.”
A banging on the hood of the truck brought our gazes out to the windshield to where Greig waited with a cocky smirk. “If ye twa are done gossipin’ aboot ma talents, can we get a move on?”
I mentally promised to grill Cammie on this situation afterward as I chuckled and got out of the truck. The clearing, protected by the trees, offered a reprieve from the harsh coastal winds. Amusement fled as I stared at the house, tucking my chin into my scarf as I contemplated it. Since I’d been avoiding Ramsay, I hadn’t approached him to ask for the things I’d left at his house. I kept hoping he’d leave them with Taran at Pages & Perks or give them to Quinn. But they never appeared. Now was my chance to get them back.
Before I could overthink it, I walked up the front porch.
“Uh, where are you going?” Cammie called.
Ramsay had a Beware of the Alaskan Malamute sign next to the front door. I lifted it up and saw the spare key taped to the wall of the house. He didn’t know I’d noticed it when I’d been out on the porch one morning.
I untaped the key and tried it in the front door. It opened, and I paused.
No alarm.
Glancing down at an open-mouthed, round-eyed Cammie, I explained, “I left some stuff that he never returned. I’m getting it back. I’ll be out to help you as soon as possible.”
“Is this your way of avoiding looking at the dresser and feeling soft emotions toward McRae?” Cammie deduced with eerie perceptiveness.
“Partly. But mostly I want my shit back.” I strode into the house and shut the door behind me.
I squeezed my eyes closed, leaning against the front door.
The house smelled like him.
It took me a second to gather the courage to open my eyes.
Memories cascaded over me.
While he’d never confessed much to me, I’d told him a lot about my past, about my parents, sharing little anecdotes about my childhood and travels. He’d listened with patience, like he was truly interested. I’d never had that before.