Page 20 of Wild Scottish Fortune

Orla

“Ihope Willow knows I’ll be wearing my boots under this dress.”

I grinned as Lia grumbled her way to Willow’s makeshift fitting room, where she’d taken up shop in the castle while Ramsay Kilts was being rebuilt. Apparently, Munroe and Finlay had enlisted her help to create gala-worthy dresses for Lia and me, and neither of us were all too pleased about it. Well, it wasn’t that having a custom-made gown by Willow was a horrible thing—the pretty American was delightful to work with—but it was just the thought of hanging up my overalls and slipping into a fancy dress that made me feel like I had an itch I couldn’t scratch between my shoulders. At least Lia was equally as unamused about the gown and gala affair as I was, so I hadsome comradery as we followed the narrow hallway that led from Lia’s kitchen to the fitting room.

A flicker of something—almost a shifting of energy—alerted me.

“Clyde incoming.”

“Thank you.” Lia whirled, grabbing my arm, her eyebrows reaching her hairline. “Finally, some advance notice.”

Clyde popped out of the wall ready to surprise us, only to find Lia standing with her arms crossed and a scolding look. His face fell.

“Clyde. What did I tell you about surprising me after …theincident?” Lia demanded. The ghost coo’s shoulders drooped.

“Is this incident where you peed your pants?” I asked, and Lia sighed.

“I see that story has already made the rounds.”

“Who doesn’t love a good peeing the pants story?”

“Seriously, I consider myself a fairly, like, street smart person, you know?” Lia continued past Clyde, air booping him on the nose, and he grinned up at her, his tongue lolling out. “Raised in Boston. Used to dealing with some rough neighborhoods and whatnot. I don’t scare easily. Imagine my surprise when Clyde came along. Muggers, I can handle. A ghost coo? Yeah, it took a bit to adjust. I’ve warned him not to jump out at me again, but I think he must be excited that you’re a newcomer. How did you know he was coming before he showed himself? What’s up with that?”

I also pretended to scratch Clyde’s head as we passedhim, my hand moving through the coldness in the air by his ears. I didn’t know how to explain that I could sense ghosts before I could ever see them, let alonefeelthem like I could with Clyde. It wasn’t as real as actually scratching the ears of a Highland coo, but it wasn’t as though my hand passed through nothing at all. It fell somewhere in between, as though I pressed against something semi-permeable, but I don’t know how else to explain it. As for knowing when he was about to appear, all I could say was that my senses went on alert.

And not in the way they did when Finlay was around.

That man made me take notice, no doubt about it.

He’d made himself somewhat scarce after he’d bumbled his way through asking me to the gala, which I still wasn’t certain if he’d meant for it to be a date or not, and I hadn’t seen much of him over the past couple of days. He was on-site though, as I split my time between the distillery and Ramsay Kilts, and my crew reported that they enjoyed working with him. Which was good, because if I’d heard that he was being difficult, then I’d have to run interference, something I never enjoyed.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to check another incoming inquiry from my website. Just last night I’d realized that I needed to put up a notice by my contact form that my crew was scheduled out for quite a while because business was really picking up. I didn’t have the time to deal with answering potential new clients. Yet I couldn’t justnotrespond. That was just bad business. Clarke Construction was important to me, built on my name and my word, so even though my precious sleephours suffered, I would often work late into the night to make sure payroll was met, invoices were paid, and messages to current and new clients were answered. It was beginning to take its toll, but at the moment, I just didn’t have a viable solution to avoid it.

“Here we are,” Lia said, stopping in front of a wooden door that was propped open. “You ready for this?”

“How are you supposed to ready yourself for a custom fitting?” Lia laughed, but I was being serious. This was so out of my wheelhouse that I truly had no idea what to expect.

“I’m going to have to deal with it soon enough when I start with wedding dresses.” Lia was marrying Munroe at an undisclosed date sometime supposedly in the next year. They’d postponed the wedding due to her mother receiving treatment for cancer, and from what I was told, everything was going smoothly. They anticipated being able to pick a date soon.

“Ladies! Welcome to my lair.” Willow popped up by the door, wearing leather wide-leg trousers, a sparkly tank top, and had her hair piled in a messy bun on her head. Every time I saw her, she sparkled or shone in some way, and I appreciated her complete disregard for the Scottish weather to express herself.

“When you say it like that…” Lia pretended to shudder.

“Knock it off or I’ll put you in something with ruffles. Sooooo many ruffles.”

Lia gasped.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m just evilenough to do it.”

“And here I thought we were friends.”

“Then you’ll pretend to enjoy every second of this because from the looks of it, you’re scaring Orla.”

“I’m fine,” I promised, my voice sounding far meeker than I’d intended. I cleared my throat. “Seriously, this is lovely. Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Ah, there’s the Scottish hospitality. Ever polite even though she’s secretly dying inside. Come in, come in.” Willow grinned and squeezed my shoulder as I walked inside the room.

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