Page 14 of Wild Scottish Fortune

A faint wash of pink swept across Orla’s cheeks, and instantly I was charmed. I’d yet to see her unsteady, even when I was in the middle of a meltdown yesterday, so this response intrigued me.

“Aye,” Orla said, shifting and glancing away.

“Does it mean anything special? Or is that the logo for your company?”

“What in the world would a goldfish have to do with a construction company?” Orla’s gaze whipped back to mine, and she regarded me as though I was daft.

“People have chosen stranger mascots, I’m sure.”

“Name one.”

“Freddo,” I said, and Orla’s mouth dropped open.

“What’s wrong with Freddo then?”

“I mean, he’s a frog. What does a frog have to do with chocolate?”

“The bars are in the shape of a frog.” Orla crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Aye, that’s true enough. But why? Why would anyone want to eat a chocolate frog? If I see a wee frog in the wild, it’s not like I point at it and think that I want a chocolate version of it. They’re not particularly cute or appetizing looking, are they?”

Orla’s mouth opened and closed as she considered my words.

“Some people eat real frogs. Not the chocolate ones. So they probably think a chocolate frog would be lovely.”

“Aye, that’s true enough, though not particularly to my taste, I’ll admit. Still, if I was launching a chocolate company, I’m not sure a frog would be my first choice of mascot.”

“Maybe you’re just bad at choosing mascots then. Because Freddo is iconic, isn’t he? Seems they knew the way of it.”

I laughed. “You’re likely right. Then your goldfish is Clarke Construction’s mascot?”

“Och, no.” Annoyance swept over Orla’s pretty face, seeing how she’d been nudged into explaining herself more. Pulling details out of this woman was difficult, but I supposed I was much the same. I could understand wanting to keep a wall up. It’s why I spent a lot of time asking questions of other people. Not only did it allow me to gatherinformation, but people always enjoyed talking about themselves. Except Orla, it seemed. “I have a wee goldfish at home, all right?”

“What’s his name?”

“Hername is Goldie Hawn.”

“A fashionable name for a wee fish.”

“She’s a diva.”

“Blows bubbles when she doesn’t get her way?”

Orla’s lips quirked, and I considered it a win. While I hadn’t made her outright laugh yet, I now understood this was a challenge I’d undertake.

The clouds moved, and sunlight shifted again, highlighting her gorgeous blue eyes. She blinked, her dark lashes feathering across her cheeks, and the moment drew out…and I realized I was outright staring at her.

“Sometimes she even gives me the fin.”

I chuckled, imagining a fish flipping Orla off.

You should ask Orla to the gala.

Munroe’s words drifted back to me and while I’d first rejected the notion, now it didn’t seem so out there. She was working with Munroe’s company, wasn’t she? Orla might enjoy a fancy night out with posh food at a charity gala.

“Orla, there’s a charity ball soon that my mum is on me to bring a date. Fancy going with me?”

Orla’s mouth dropped open and she narrowed her eyes at me, instantly making me realize I must have overstepped.

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