Page 24 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“Um, a gin and tonic would be great, thanks.”

“We do a lovely pink gin and tonic with pomegranate seeds and a sprig of rosemary.”

“Oh, yum. Sounds great. Thanks.”

Graham slid me a leatherbound food menu and busied himself with drinks, working his way neatly down the bar and collecting orders from the other patrons who had gathered to watch the game.

“What’s going on with Ramsay and not wanting you to work at his shop?” Agnes asked, her voice pitched lower than the game on the screen.

“He knows he needs to hire someone.” Sophie leaned over, bending her head close. “His place is a nightmare when it comes to actually functioning. Maybe he just can’t admit he needs help?”

“Or maybe my brother is making Ramsay report back to him.”

“Your brother?” Agnes tilted her head at me.

“He’s friends with Ramsay. We grew up coming to the area because my mum is from two villages over. Somehow Miles and Ramsay stayed close through the years. Now it feels like my brother managed to put this whole thing together and is just using it as a way to control me.”

Whoops, I hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud. And I hadn’t even had a drink yet. I’d have to be careful to watch my words with my new employer if jet lag was making me this loose with my tongue.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Sophie asked. “I can promise you that your brother had nothing to do with your job offer. I mean, I can’t say whether he spoke to Ramsay or not, but on my end, I’ve never heard of Miles. I promise you we had our own reasons for hiring you.”

A quick look between Agnes and Sophie had a question rising in my brain.

“Here you go, lass. Made with Common Gin, owned by that gentleman, Munroe himself, so if you hate it, be sure to say so loudly.” Graham nodded to the man I’d seen with Lachlan in MacAlpine Castle’s parking lot but hadn’t met yet. He, too, was handsome in his own way, with gilded locks and broad shoulders, and I blinked as Lachlan entered the bar.

“Jesus.” I turned to the women. “What is with the men here? They all could be models.”

“Do you hear that, honey? You could be a model,” Sophie said, wrapping an arm around Lachlan’s waist as he leaned in for a kiss.

“You already made us model for your marketing campaign. What else am I modeling for now?”

“Did someone say model?” Graham brought his arm up and flexed his muscles, all while delivering a sultry, scowling look.

“You look constipated,” Agnes said cheerfully. “A wee bit of fiber in your diet should sort you out.”

“The only thing that needs sorting is?—”

“A pint, please, Graham. BrewDog, ah, the Modern Mutiny please.” Lachlan nodded toward the taps.

“The food looks good.” I scanned the menu, trying to change the subject before Agnes and Graham got into it. “Oh, tough call. Steak pie or baked mac and cheese? I don’t think I’ve ever had a steak pie before. Maybe when I was younger?”

“Seriously?” Agnes turned to me, distracted from scowling at Graham.

“Really. Meat pies aren’t all that common in the States.”

“Then you should give it a go. Unless you want to give the haggis a try?” Agnes winked at me.

“Nope. Tried it when I was thirteen. Not for me.” I shuddered at the memory. Ramsay snorted, and I turned to him, though his eyes were still on the game.

“Something funny?”

“You spit it in the poor dug’s face. Though he was pretty delighted about the situation.”

My face heated. I’d forgotten that Ramsay had been there the first time I’d tried haggis. Honestly, it probably hadn’t been as bad as I’d made it out to be, but everyone had revved me up so much for it to be this wild experience, so when I’d taken a bite, my first instinct had been to turn and spit it out. Which, I’ll admit, was a pretty gross response. Particularly when it landed on the face of the poor dog who had been waiting for table scraps.

“It was a dog, Ramsay.”

“That’s what I said. A dug.”

---