Page 46 of Wild Scottish Rose

“No doubt.” Eugene skidded to a stop, ducking behind a pot of basil, and then divebombed the toy, rolling with it until he landed at my feet, grinning up at me with his new hedgie friend in his arms.

“I had no idea how fast they were,” Owen observed, coming to lean next to me, shoulder to shoulder. “He zips right along,doesn’t he?”

“They’re nocturnal. You don’t see them out and about much during the day, but they are super active.”

True to his word, Owen had come home and spent the afternoon helping me while I continued the task of winterizing my garden, a seemingly never-ending task of repotting plants, getting bulbs ready for planting, and pruning back perennials that were ready to rest for the winter. Night had crept in while we were working, the days growing shorter now, and I was ready for a glass of wine. Owen had been a competent helper, asking questions as needed, not caring if he got dirty, and easily handling some of the heavy lifting.

All while wearing that damn hat with the pink pom-pom.

I shouldn’t find him as charming as I did, but it was becoming increasingly hard not to fall under his spell. He exuded confidence in the way of a man at ease with the world, even when he had no clue about gardening, and fit seamlessly in with the daily tasks. Was this what made him such a good director? This ability to be a chameleon and adapt to any environment he was in? Either way, he’d spent an entire day of his holiday helping me, for free, and at the very least I owed the man some chutney.

“It’s quitting time. Would you like to come over for—” My breath caught as Owen caged me in at the table, his hands on either side of me, a smile at his lips. “Um, come over for…”

“Yes?” Owen asked, a heated look in his eyes.

“Chutney.” My brain finally landed on the word I was looking for. “Well, more than chutney. We can’t just eat chutney for dinner.”

“We have bread too,” Owen pointed out, running hishands loosely up and down my arms and I wanted to purr with contentment at his touch.

“That’s hardly a dinner.”

“I can run to the store?—”

“I’ve got plenty here. I’m a gardener, aren’t I?” I nudged him back, his nearness short-circuiting my brain. “I’d like a shower, and then if you want to come by, in like a half hour or so?”

“Ohhh, I get to see where the trash-goblin lives. I can’t wait.” Owen rubbed his hands together, and I glared at him.

“I’ve since cleaned, or you wouldn’t have been invited.”

“I wouldn’t have judged you either way, darlin’.” Owen winked at me, rocking back on his heels, as delighted as if I told him we were going bungee jumping or something far more exciting than a glass of wine and some homemade chutney. “This will be great. I’ve got a load of questions for you too. I’ve been doing a ton of research on the area. You might be able to help.”

What was I supposed to say to that? The man had just spent ten hours helping me with my work, and now I was supposed to ignore his very obvious request that I do the same with his?

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do my best.” I shrugged, non-committal. “I’ll just close up here and see you shortly.”

Owen disappeared, humming a cheerful tune, that stupid pink pom-pom bouncing on his hat. Sighing, I crossed the greenhouse, Eugene scampering after me with his toy in his arms.

I mean, the man gave my hedgie a toy.

My poor heart. I was a goner already.

Sighing, I scrubbed my hands over my face, uncertain how I was going to navigate the conversation tonight, which I was sure would be about the Kelpies. I needed to talk to Agnes. Maybe there was a better way to navigate this than outright lying.

Stopping by the thyme plant, which had grown substantially during the day, I snipped off several pieces and clipped them to a clothesline, hanging them to dry. I’d bundle them in the morning and then see if I could move forward with how I thought I could use Gran’s magick.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I took it out to see Agnes calling.

“Just calling to check if you found anything of your gran’s.”

“I did! An old box filled with seeds for various things. I think I’m meant to grow them and create herb bundles, oils, and candles. All meant to cure a variety of troubles.” Even with my unease about Owen and his interest in Loren Brae, I couldn’t help but feel excited about the potential of what my magick could do.

“Och, that’s grand, Shona. Brilliant. When will you crack on with it? Do you need any help?”

“No, I don’t think so just yet. I’ve started one and am going to look more deeply into another tomorrow. I think I know how I can use them to be of help to a few people who need it.”

“Even better. The Stone of Truth really seems to reward altruism. If you can ease anyone’s suffering, that will be a huge step forward.”

I had an idea who I might be able to help.

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