Page 55 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“That’s okay. It’s your first real go at it. I’m sure Agnes can dig deeper in her books and maybe pull up some suggestions for how you can harness your power more.”

An image of Calvin sleeping flashed into my head, and I turned to see him, his eyes drooping, staring at me.

“Oh, I think the little guy is tuckered out. I’d like to take him up and show him his litter box and food, get him used to the space. Is that okay?” Frankly, I needed some alone time just to get my head on straight after the day I’d had as well.

“Yes, go ahead. Do you need anything else? Do you want to take a bottle of wine up with you?” Hilda asked as I stood.

“No, I’m good. I’m going straight to bed. I have to admit, it’s been a pretty exhausting day.”

“You’re back at the shop tomorrow? I didn’t even get a chance to ask how you got on with Ramsay today,” Sophie said, as she stood and stretched.

“He’s … tricky,” I finally landed on, and Lachlan barked out a laugh.

“That’s one word for it. Good luck to you on that front.” Lachlan saluted me with a glass of whisky.

“Oh, I just think he’s a grumpy ol’ bear. I bet he’s all cuddly and warm beneath that tough exterior. I do like a grumpy man,” Sophie said, going to wrap an arm around Lachlan’s shoulders. He put an arm around her legs and leaned in, looking up at her.

“I am not like Ramsay,” Lachlan protested.

“No, of course not, babe. You’re a positive ray of sunshine,” Sophie assured him, and I chuckled as I scooped up Calvin and Lachlan glowered.

“Goodnight, everyone. Thanks for your help today. A lot to think about.”

“It doesn’t all need to be resolved tonight, Willow. Take your time.” This from Archie, as he stood, the feather still dangling in his hand. I appreciated the reminder, as my impulsive nature usually made me want to find an answer to a problem immediately. Calvin purred at my throat as I walked upstairs, a warm, little ball of comfort, and I placed him on the middle of my bed once we got into my apartment.

“Okay, let me just put my glass of wine down, then I want to show you your new digs.” Putting the wine beside the bed, I picked the kitten back up from where he’d begun to knead the comforter and took him to the bathroom.

Placing him in the litter box, I stood there, hands on hips, while he regarded me solemnly.

“So, um, that’s your toilet. You’re meant to do your business there.”

I sincerely doubted my ability to potty train this little cat. Surely just pointing at a box of sand wouldn’t cause a cat to understand my meaning.

To my surprise, Calvin began to dig around in the sand and quickly, and neatly, might I add, took care of business. Color me impressed.

“Well done, good sir. I can’t believe that worked so well. Okay, right. I bet you’re going to want food and water. Here’s your water dish.” I picked him up out of the box andput him in front of a little tray with two dishes, one that I’d put water in. Calvin immediately lapped it up while I read the back of the food packaging that Archie had delivered.

“So there’s wet food and dry food. But you seem kind of young, so I feel like you start babies on wet food. I’ll go with that. Hold on.” I backtracked to the little kitchenette in the apartment, dug out a spoon, and went back to the bathroom to dish out the right amount of wet food.

“There. What do you think?”

Calvin dove face-first into the food, which I took to mean he approved, and his little legs flew up in the back as he splayed out over the dish.

“Oh bud, hold on. Here, let me help.” The sides of the dish were a touch too tall for him, so I ended up spoon-feeding him his meal. I made a note to get a small plate in the morning. Once we were done, I wiped his face gently with a damp towel where he’d landed in his food and then carried him to the middle of the bed.

“Mooooo!” Clyde jumped through the open door of the bedroom and skidded to a stop as Calvin arched his back and hissed. My hand shot to my heart, but it wasn’t me that was scared this time.

If the coo could have screamed, I’m sure he would have.

The look on Clyde’s face as he scrambled backward, his eyes wide with terror as little Calvin batted a paw in the air and hissed, had me convulsing in laughter. The ghost coo scrambled, tipping backwards in its haste, sliding across the floor, and winked out of sight right before he would have slammed into the wall.

Calvin stood, all eight inches of him, paw raised, waiting to see if the threat would return.

“I’m dying,” I heaved, tears of laughter streaming down my face, as I went to stroke the fur that stood up at the back of Calvin’s neck. “Well, done, my little hero. You protected me.”

“Brrrrrpp.” Calvin bumped his head against my fingers before settling into the comforter, kneading the material with his little paws.

“Oh man, I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this. What a day.” Wiping tears from my eyes, I went to get ready for bed.

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