Page 40 of Wild Scottish Rose

“The first time I turned a camera on my mother, she stopped talking. I asked questions, wanting to find the answers behind her endless well of pain. I just sat there, in silence, the camera trained on her. She couldn’t handle it. Being faced with the camera broke something in her. It was then she told me that Kennedy was my half-sister due to one of my father’s less-than-discreet liaisons. It was the first time I felt powerful. And the last time I ever really trusted anyone.”

My heart hurt for the teenaged boy who needed to hide behind a camera to control the world around him.

“I’m sorry, Owen. That’s pretty heavy for a kid.”

Owen shrugged one shoulder, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “It is what it is. Can’t change the past.”

“Aye, but you can learn from it.”

“So they say, yet both of my parents continue to make the same mistakes, over and over. I think my mother is on her sixth or seventh husband. My father not far behind. I’ve lost count.”

I grimaced. My upbringing seemed quite simple and unproblematic compared to his. A part of me wanted to be the one who soothed that ache inside him, yet I sensed he wouldn’t be open for too much coddling on my end.

“And so you went into documentary filmmaking?” I asked. I was lying there, too, because I’d spent a good hour googling Owen last night after my cleaning binge, and I was well aware he’d made a variety of films that spanned from thrillers to documentaries. Coined a wunderkind of sorts, he’d pulled off a feat that many filmmakers hadn’t been able to—he hadn’t been pigeonholed. Itseemed he’d proven himself as a capable and adept producer and was highly regarded.

“Among other things. Along the way I discovered I had a knack for storytelling and a passion for films. I didn’t like to be caged in with one particular genre, so I dabbled in it all. At the end of the day, it’s about the story for me.”

“It sounds fascinating. You get to travel the world and make beautiful films.” Unlike my boring little life. Again, another intrusive thought that I wanted to backhand. What was with me today? My life must seem so routine and staid compared to someone who rubbed elbows with famous people and traveled all over the place.

“I do. It’s pretty great. When it’s not also a pain in my ass.” Owen craned his neck as we crested a hill. “Hey, would you mind slowing down so I can get a shot of the lake as we head into town?”

“Loch,” I corrected automatically, checking my rearview mirror as I slowed the van to a crawl.

“Loch,” Owen echoed me, capturing the accent, as he rolled the window down and brought the camera up. “God, the light here is just killer. I’ve thought that since day one. There’s something about the clouds and how the sun filters through to the water that just makes for deeply cinematic moments.”

I glanced out of the window. Though I’d seen this view thousands of times in my life, I tried to look at it with fresh eyes, or at the very least, through the eyes of a filmmaker. The loch swept out, her waters still and reflective in the early morning light that kissed the green hills that hugged the banks like protective sentinels. Cottages and buildings, done up in cheerful colors, dotted the shoreline likesomeone had flicked a paintbrush full of color onto a muted green landscape. Puffy clouds meandered through the sky, allowing the sun passage, and a soft wind rustled the trees, tossing their gilded leaves into the breeze.

“Bonnie Scotland,” I murmured, inching the van along. “She’ll grab on to your heart, that’s the truth of it.”

Owen turned the camera on me, and I almost drove us off the road.

“Och, enough of that,” I complained, half flattered, half annoyed.

“Just say bonnie Scotland one more time,” Owen pleaded.

Sighing, I complied, refusing to look over at the camera, and picked up the speed of the van so we could get to the market in time. Grateful when he dropped the camera back to his lap, I let out a small breath.

“Tell me what to expect today.”

“Well, it’s usually quite busy right after we open because everyone wants first pick,” I explained, turning onto the main street that led toward a main square that was used for the weekend markets and any other festivals the town held. A flurry of activity greeted us, as a line of parked vans with their doors thrown open hugged the square, and people scurried about unloading their goods. Easing the van into a spot at the end of the square, I stopped and turned to Owen. “Basically, if there are any produce-related questions, direct them to me. Otherwise, I’ve already listed the prices on the blackboard, and there’s a few bundle options. Like if someone wants two squash and a bunch of carrots.”

“Got it. So basically, I should just sell the crap out of your goods, and you’ll be the brains behind the operation?”Owen threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin, putting on that charming smile of his that made me want to unbutton my shirt. “Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am? But this poor bushel of sweet potatoes is crying out to go home with you. You wouldn’t want to leave them alone and sad here, would you? Of course not. I bet you have the perfect recipe for them too, don’t you? You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

I sucked in a breath, pressing my lips together. The man was a natural.

“Aye, lad. You’ll kill it.” I shook my head. Already I suspected the ladies of Loren Brae would be flocking. I couldn’t well blame them, could I? I was equally as enchanted with one Owen Williams…as I am sure many women across the world are. And have done more than just kiss the man.Annoyed where my thoughts had gone, yet again, I got out of the van and opened the doors at the back. Clearly, I needed a good night’s sleep, or to chug my entire thermos of coffee, otherwise I was going to scare off any potential customers.

“Yes, I’m helping Shona today.”

I peered around the open door to see a woman with a small baby in a pram beaming up at Owen. My God, it had been two seconds since we’d stepped out of the van. It was like flies to honey with this one. I cleared my throat, and Owen snapped to attention.

“That’s the boss calling. We need to set up. Be sure to stop back. We’ve got the best produce in Loren Brae.”

“Oh, I will,” the woman promised Owen, openly admiring him, as her baby began to cry.

“Cute little guy,” Owen said, bending over to makefaces at the baby. Instantly, the cries stopped, and a deep gurgling chuckle rattled out of the pram.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

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