Page 2 of Wild Scottish Fortune

“Finlay. This is Orla Clarke. Owner of Clarke Construction and our head builder and project manager. Basically your partner for the next six months as we finish the buildout.”

“You’re Clarke Construction?” Finlay didn’t even bother to conceal his surprise.

It was a reaction I was used to. I was a female in a male-dominated industry. I’d been on more job sites than I could count at this point, and still most people mistook me for a delivery girl dropping off food to the site or something of that nature. Maybe I could have chosen an easier industry to break into, but my first love was construction work, and I’d fought hard to end up where I was.

Which meant I’d developed a fairly thick skin through the years.

“Aye,” I said, accepting his hand when he held it out. “At your service.”

“My apologies,” Finlay said, holding my hand a moment longer than necessary, his lips curving up in what must be a practiced sultry smile. “I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

“Everything good here, boss?”

All three of us turned at the word “boss” but it was my head joiner, Derrick, who was extremely protective of me as if I was his own daughter. He’d likely overheard the conversation since sound carried easily on an open job site.

“Aye, all good, Derrick. Thanks for checking in.”

“When you’re ready, I’d like to review the install on thecabinets by the storage room. I think we can integrate sliding shelves depending on the weight of the contents.”

“I’ll be right there.” I gave Derrick a quick nod and then turned back to the two men, hands on my hips.

“Are there any more doors you need me to open for you, gentlemen?” I gave Finlay a tight smile and he winked at me, appreciating my thinly veiled insult.

“No, Orla, go on ahead. We’ll catch up with you shortly.” Munroe squeezed my shoulder in thanks. I liked him. He was a fair man who was besotted with his fiancée, and his employees loved him. Low staff turnover at a business always spoke highly of a good boss to me, and I’d found my dealings with him to be smooth and easygoing.

Finlay, though? I’d wait to decide what I thought about the man.

“Nice to meet you, Orla. I look forward to working with you.”

I withheld comment, giving him a curt nod and a wide berth as I left the room.

TheFinlaysof the world and I did not mix well, but I knew how to get on with them when it came to work. For now, I’d bite my tongue and crack on with my job, knowing I’d have one more challenge to deal with now that Finlay was on the project.

I glanced back to see him watching me as I walked away, a considering look in his eye.

Och, the man was going to be a problem. I could sense it already.

CHAPTER TWO

Finlay

“None of the workers will go in there.”

“Seriously?” I scratched my jaw, casting my gaze across the land behind the construction site to where a worn stone outbuilding stood, shrouded in trees, and looking for all the world like a witch’s cottage from a childhood fairy tale. MacAlpine Castle loomed in the distance, a stately presence towering over our building operation, and I could almost imagine a highlander appearing between the trees, sword in hand.

The more I looked at the cottage, the more I got an impression that it wanted to be left alone, and the very idea that an inanimate object could project a feeling like that piqued my interest.Was it Munroe’s comment that the workers avoided this building that made me feel that way?Scotland was full of abandoned outbuildings and ruins. Itwasn’t all that unusual to stumble across one, so what made this one so different?

“Aye. A superstitious lot, they are. Claim it’s haunted. Once one of them refused to go in, the rest followed suit.”

“Bloody hell.” I sighed. Turning, I scanned the busy site behind me. Orla seemed to run a tight ship. I’d only been on-site for two days now, but I hadn’t come across a worker that wasn’t busy with one task or another once. I’d worked on enough of Munroe’s buildouts, from retail stores to distilleries, to learn that this wasn’t always the case with job sites. I had to hand it to the pint-sized powerhouse. She seemed to run things efficiently and her crew respected her.

She was also breathtaking.

Auburn hair tucked into plaits, wide sky-blue eyes, and a mouth made for kissing was a stark juxtaposition against the canvas overalls that seemed to be Orla’s daily uniform. Her overalls were navy-blue today, and loose enough that identifying any particular aspect of her shape was largely impossible. I wondered if that was a deliberate choice, helping to keep unwanted advances at bay, or if she just enjoyed the comfort.

I’d steered a wide berth from her after I’d neatly insulted her by insinuating she was the cleaner, embarrassment still making it difficult for me to fully bridge that gap I’d created by my assumption. I would have to address it soon, as Munroe wanted me working closely with her. He needed to oversee the launch of his newest flavor of gin and wouldn’t be as widely available on-site.

“Your thought was to use it for a tasting room?”

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