Page 50 of Wild Scottish Rose

“I’m glad you declined her call.”

“I can’t do it forever, but at least this grants me a reprieve.”

“Why?” I asked Owen and he paused in scooping more chutney onto his bread.

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you just stop talking to her? She’s clearly an adult. And you’re…how old?”

“Thirty-two.”

“So, why is it that you can’t stop speaking to someone who clearly doesn’t respect you?”

“Um.” It was Owen’s turn to lean back and think through his response. He steepled his fingers. “I wish I had a better answer to that. In some messed up way I guess it is because I feel I owe her.”

“For what?”

“For taking me with her when she and Dad divorced.”

“But that’s the job of a parent, Owen. They’re meant to take care of you. Not the other way around. You didn’t choose to have a mother. She chose to have a child. You don’t owe her anything.”

“Not according to her.”

I wanted to push the point, to protect Owen from his mother, but I realized that I was getting too heated, too personal, and this would be his own battle he had to fight.

“I’m glad you ignored her call. Maybe she just doesn’t get front-row access to your life anymore. Maybe you can stick her in the nose-bleed seats.”

Approval shone in Owen’s eyes, as he regarded me like I’d spoken something miraculous. Leaning over, he cupped the back of my neck and kissed me so gently that I swore tears almost pricked my eyes.

“That’s an incredible way to look at a very difficult situation. Thank you for putting it in that light for me. It’s certainly something to think about.”

“Glad to help.” And I meant it, too. I liked Owen when he was cheerful and charming, but the darkness that swaminto his eyes when he spoke of his mother saddened me. It added a new layer, one where I wanted to protect him from those who would hurt him, and my heart shimmied in my chest, seeming ready for the task.

Oh yeah, I was going down.

“I enjoyed today. Loren Brae is a pretty cool little town, isn’t it? Seems like a lot of good people here. The variety at the market was fascinating too. For such a small place, you’ve got a slew of talented people living here, don’t you?”

I understood the sudden shift in conversation to be a protective mechanism, but I allowed it. Already I felt I’d overstepped a bit, and I didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable talking about topics that made him unhappy.

“I think so. We’re a pretty tight-knit community. We need to be. It’s not uncommon to have to rely on your neighbor for one thing or another.”

“I’ve been reading about the town a bit. The history. Loch Mirren. The Kelpies.” I could feel the intensity of Owen’s gaze on me as I slathered more tomatoes and burrata on a piece of bread.

“Cool, right?” I aimed for flippant and took a big bite.

“The Kelpies? Mythologically speaking, yes, they are fascinating. Yet it seems some people still think they are real.”

I continued chewing, shrugging.

I hated this. I didn’t like lying. Frankly, I was shit at it anyway.

“Some people believe in them. Some people don’t.”

“And you?”

I shrugged again, taking a sip of wine to clear my suddenly dry mouth.

“I don’t know where I land with it all.”

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