Page 49 of Wild Scottish Rose

“What’s got that grumpy look on your face?” Owen asked, gesturing to the bowl of chutney.

“Is it grumpy?” I shook my head, pulling my thoughts away from other women kissing Owen. “Sorry, wool-gathering. Yes, that’s the infamous chutney you’re so determined to try.”

“I’m excited. I’ve never had eggplant chutney before. What spices do you use?”

“Mmm, cayenne, chili, cinnamon, onion. Some brown sugar.”

“Interesting. Spicy and sweet, then. May I?”

“Please do.” I held my breath as he scooped some on a crusty bit of bread and took a bite. He savored it, chewing slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Not to your taste?” I cut a piece of the cheddar and added a dollop of chutney on top.

“No.” Owen’s face broke out in a smile. “I love it actually. This is incredible. Where did you learn to cook?”

“I wouldn’t say that Icookcook. But I try to use what I grow,” I said, watching as he loaded the grilled tomatoes and burrata onto a thick slice of baguette. “This is my gran’s recipe.”

“You mention her a lot, but not your parents. Did you grow up with your gran instead?” Owen’s tone held no judgement, just curiosity, and I realized just how easily he must be able to pull secrets from those he was interviewing. It was a swift reminder to not get too comfortable with him.

“No, I grew up here with my parents. We lived not far down the road from Gran. But my dad got an important job in London when I was sixteen, and I asked if I could stay here.”

“Not a city girl?”

“At the time I wasn’t. I had friends here. A life here. I wasn’t quite ready to move on out. Gran took me in, and it was easy enough to finish out school. I moved upto Glasgow for a bit after, but Loren Brae will always be home.”

“And your parents?”

“Mmm, still in London.” I shrugged one shoulder when Owen just raised an eyebrow at me. “What? There’s not much to say. They are nice people who seemed somewhat surprised to be parents and put in the minimal amount of effort when it came to doing so. There is nothing inherently wrong with them. They’re just kind of…distant.”

“I envy you that.” Even as he said it, his phone buzzed, and I caught the word Mom on the screen before he turned it off and ignored the call.

“You can answer her call.”

“God, no. I’m pissed at her.”

That was interesting. I’d yet to see anything that rattled the seemingly unflappable Owen, and I was dying to dig deeper. Treading carefully, I picked up a piece of bread and slathered some of the burrata on it.

“Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Owen huffed out a laugh. Leaning back, he drank deeply from his wine glass, his eyes affixed on a spot across the room. “My mother is heavily narcissistic, she never should have been a parent, and she sees nothing wrong with inconveniencing everyone else so long as she gets her way.”

“She soundslovely.”

Owen grinned, easing some of the lines of tension that had sprung out across his forehead.

“She has her moments. It’s taken years of therapy for me to extradite myself from her clutches, and she stilldoesn’t see how she constantly oversteps in my life. For example, when she suggested that I steal my father’s new wife away from him.”

I sputtered, choking on the piece of bread I’d just taken a bite of, and Owen leaned over and whacked me helpfully on the shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and held up a finger. “Did you just say that your mother suggested you try to sleep with a woman who is technically your stepmother?”

“She did.”

“Och, Owen. Bloody hell, that’s awful, isn’t it? I’m sorry you have to put up with that.” Sympathy filled me. Sure, my parents were distant, but they weren’t toxic or harmful of this nature. I thought back to Kennedy’s wedding where Owen had spent a lot of time hovering around an older well-kept woman dripping in diamonds with a sour look on her face. I’d only spoken to her briefly, but she’d addressed me as the help and had shooed me away to fix a bouquet. Now I realized that was Owen’s mother. “I remember her. Face like she’d just sucked a lemon?”

Owen’s eyes widened, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s the one. Perpetually finding fault with everything around her.”

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