Page 25 of Wild Scottish Rose

“Apologies. I promise I’m not batty. Just a bit scattered lately.”

“Come in. Tell me all about it.” Owen unlocked his cottage, and I waited while he held the door for me. It was an interesting feeling, walking into a space that I owned, but technically was occupied by another. It felt like I was intruding. Happy to see he was a tidy sort, not that I could remotely make any comments about neatness, I hovered by the doorway, uncertain what to do.

“It’s a nice enough night if the rain holds off. Shall we sit by the fire pit?”

“Perfect, I’ll go get it started,” I turned to go, basically ready to run, and caught my elbow on the door handle. A sharp pain knifed up my arm, and I hopped up and down, cupping my elbow with my hand. “Damn it.”

“Are you okay?” Owen said, coming to my side, increasing my nervous energy.

“Just the funny bone. I’m just going to … fire … outside.” I stumbled out of the door, holding my numb arm, deeply annoyed with myself. Even for me, this was a bit much. I’d have to walk around wrapped in cotton wool if this was the effect Owen had on me. Grumbling, I hurried to the stone patio behind the cottage. Twinkle lights hung between the cottage and the fence, the soft light highlighting two low-slung chairs, a generous sized fire pit, and a covered wood rack. The rainy mist had disappeared, the sky clearing of clouds, and a few stars shimmered overhead. Lifting the cover on the firewood rack, I pulled out the box with matches, and grabbed several small bundles of kindling. Setting the kindling in the pit, I hummed to myself to soothe my nerves while I worked.

“You need to tell him the G is silent.”

“Damn it!” I hissed, dropping a piece of firewood, just missing my toe. Turning, I glared at where Gnorman stood in the hedges that lined the fence. “You’re moving into creepy territory, G.”

“I don’t see what the problem is here. Isn’t being creepy part of a gnome’s job?” Gnorman crossed his arms over his chest, his tattoos standing out on his bare arms, and I rolled my eyes.

“You can’t let Owen see you.”

“See what?” Owen asked and I froze, mentally berating myself for talking to the gnome when I knew Owen was coming out.

“Just continuing to convince you that I’m normal by constantly talking to myself.” I blew out a breath as I turned, wood in my arms. “Sorry. It’s a bad habit. I’m used to being by myself, and I talk to my plants constantly.”

“Is that the same gnome?” Owen followed my gaze to where Gnorman sat in resting gnome mode.

“Of course not,” I scoffed. Walking to the fire pit, I dropped the wood on the pavers and crouched. “The same model, though.”

“Big sale at the garden store?”

“Something like that.” I struck a match, bringing flame to the kindling, and watched as it licked up the wood. Smoke trailed from the small tent of sticks I’d built, and I inhaled lightly, happiness filling me. There was nothing quite like the scent of fire on a crisp autumn evening.

Once I’d had the fire properly sorted, I shot Gnormanone more glare while Owen couldn’t see my face, and then joined him. Taking a seat, I accepted the glass of wine he offered me and clinked my glass…wait, no, not glass. I narrowed my eyes at the plastic juice cups he’d filled with wine.

“I thought, given your propensity for running into things, that plastic would be the smarter choice.”

Annoying. But he wasn’t wrong.

“Slàinte,” I said, instead, and took a long sip of my wine before settling back in my chair and watching the flames dance toward the sky.

“So, Shona.”

“So, Owen.” I couldn’t help but grin at his tone. He smiled back, the fire flickering in the reflection of his eyes, and I caught my breath, realizing just how comfortable I felt sitting here in this moment with him. With how busy I’d been over the last several years, not to mention grieving my gran, it felt like forever since I’d done this. Simply enjoyed a quiet, blissful moment with a handsome man. Maybe the time Owen was here would be good for me.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in this town?”

Or not.

CHAPTER NINE

Owen

“The gnomes? I promise you that’s just a me thing, not a town thing,” Shona said, brandishing her cup in the air as she spoke. Firelight cast a rosy glow over her face, making her perfect doll lips look kissable and soft. “Did you not like the Tipsy Thistle then?”

“The pub? No, it was fine. Great, even. People were friendly enough, food was good.”

And nobody had given me a direct answer to any of my questions.

“It’s a grand spot, isn’t it? Steeped in history, and Graham’s done his best to keep the tradition going. He’s made a good run of it, though we weren’t certain he’d last. Turns out he’s perfectly suited for the job. Flirtatious, a good listener, and a hard worker. Itsuits him.”

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