Page 2 of Wild Scottish Rose

“Of course! Like my lavender-infused martinis that I love.” Kennedy turned and stormed across the room to the bar, and I was grateful for the momentary reprieve, though now I had to come up with a way to tell her that I wasn’t about to put meat flowers in her bouquet.

“I’m probably going to hell. But I do so love winding her up. I’m Owen, by the way.” Owen held out his hand, and I took it automatically, though my stomach twisted in knots about how to deal with this latest catastrophe.

“Shona,” I said, faintly, my eyes on where Kennedy berated one of the bartenders about a haggis martini.

“My apologies, Shona, that you have to deal with Kennedy. She’s not always this difficult…” Owen trailed off as he squinted his eyes. “Actually, never mind, she is. In fact, I’m now warming to the idea of haggis in her flowers.”

“But … I can’t … possibly …” I held my hands up, at a loss for words.

“I think you can do anything you put your mind to.” Owen pursed his lips and studied me, clearly used to people falling in line with his plans. I wanted to, Ireallywanted to, because there was something about the wicked glint in his eyes that made me want to be naughty even just for a bit.

I wassodone with weddings.

It wasn’t that all of them were awful, or anything like that, I was just over doing flowers for weddings. The stress never lived up to the enjoyment for me. I’d much rather be back home, nurturing my plants, and selling my wares at farmers markets. It was my comfort zone and this…well,thiswas not what I needed right now.

“Shona!” Kennedy shouted from across the room, stomping her foot, and Owen intervened.

“I’ll handle her. She’ll be happy enough once she’s married. Just get your decorations out as you see fit.” It came out as an order, and I found my attraction to this man instantly diminishing. Men like him? Yeah, they were used to dealing with women like Kennedy. He could very well handle it while I stuck to what I knew best—plants.

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” I infused enough syrupy sweetness in my voice, so Owen knew that I was annoyed with him.

“Sassy. I like it.” Owen winked at me. Damn it, but I found the wink sexy, and I hated myself for doing so. It was so cliché. The wink. The charm. The casual ease in atuxedo. Owen was not my type of people. Why I even found myself attracted to him was beyond me.

“Your opinion matters little to me,” I surprised myself by saying, and the grin widened on Owen’s face before he sauntered away. What was wrong with me? I’d just insulted a client’s guest. That wouldnotbode well for my business. Even if I’d promised myself that I was done with weddings, I still didn’t want to get any bad online reviews.

“Why is the bride screaming about haggis?” my assistant whispered in my ear. I kept my eyes trained on Owen as he pulled Kennedy away from the bar.

“Who is that?” I asked, turning to unwrap the padding from around a vase.

“The one who knows exactly what he’s about?” My assistant fanned her face, and I rolled my eyes. “That’s the brother.”

Of courseit was. Nothing like directly insulting a family member. I’d have to apologize later. But for now, I needed to make a plan.

“Do we still have the extra bucket of white heather in the van?” The bride hadn’t asked for it, but I typically brought some along in case any spots needed filling.

“We do. Are we adding it?”

“We are. If anyone asks…it’s wild haggis.”

CHAPTER TWO

Shona

“This is seriously the cutest, Shona.” Agnes, owner of Bonnie Books, and one of my childhood friends, beamed at me from across the cottage I’d finally finished renovating. With the help of a few of the local lads, and after watching countless YouTube videos, I’d managed to shine up an old stone cottage situated on the back corner of my property, and I had plans to let it on Airbnb for short-term stays. I didn’t think I was quite ready for a full-time tenant to be in my space, albeit all the way at the back of my land, so I’d settled on short-term holiday lets to get started. The extra income would fill the gaps in the long winter months—at least that was what I was hoping for—and Agnes had come by to photograph the space for the online listing.

“Isn’t it? I’m not sure what took me so longto fix this place up,” I said, smoothing the cheerful tartan throw folded over the back of the loveseat situated in front of the stone fireplace. The cottage was more of a studio, really, with the bedroom, living room, and kitchen all in the main room and a serviceable bathroom tucked behind a small door in the corner. With some creative design, I’d managed to fit a full-sized Murphy bed in the space, which could be lifted and tucked into a bookshelf, or pulled down and left open for sleeping. Along one wall was a compact kitchen, with a small cooktop, and a paned window that overlooked an outdoor sitting area in the garden. On the other side of the room, the loveseat and a leather lounge chair were arranged near the fireplace, with a pretty rug in shades of muted reds and greens tossed over the hardwood floor. Exposed beams showcased a ceiling that was higher than it looked from outside, giving the illusion of more space. I’d decorated the walls with quirky paintings and had lined the bookshelves with books from Agnes’s shop, funky candle holders, and obscure statues. The rain pattered down outside, but the inside was nice and cozy, and I couldn’t wait to see what my future guests thought of the space.

“Och, I don’t know…maybe running two successful businesses and still trying to have a semblance of a life?” Agnes said.

“Yes, there’s that,” I admitted with a laugh. “And I don’t know. It took me a while to get to this cottage. Gran and all.”

“She’d be really proud of you.” Agnes crossed to me, still holding her camera, and slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a half-hug. “She knew how much you loved this land. This was her gift to you, to dowith as you saw fit. The gardens needed you the most. But now you’ve got that in shape, you can see to other things. Be patient with yourself, Shona. You can’t do everything at once.”

“I just don’t want to fail.”

It had been five years since my beloved gran had passed away and left me this land in Loren Brae. With an expansive garden, a two-bedroom cottage, a gardener’s shed, and the cottage we now stood in, it had felt like a dream for a girl who had been living in a tiny studio flat in Glasgow. With the land had come a small inheritance that had given me the gumption to leave my boring secretarial job and hightail it back home to Loren Brae. It shouldn’t have taken Gran’s death for me to realize just how much I’d hated working in an office, but now I finally felt like I was coming into my own.

“What on earth are you talking about, Shona?” Agnes pursed her lips and looked up at me from where she was checking the settings on her camera. “You’re an accomplished floral designer and your gardens grow the most delectable produce. Frankly, I don’t know how you manage to do so much. You’re going to need to hire more staff soon. Your stall is always the first to sell out at the market.”

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