Page 41 of Wild Scottish Fortune

I’d never gotten a chance to speak with Orla about her near-death experience, and I’d been up half the night worrying over it. She’d begged off our conversation, promising me she was fine but exhausted, and had left with Miss Elva and her entourage, dropping Orla off on their way out of town.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me, just a bit, that she’d also seen those men in kilts naked. Perhaps more than a bit, even though Orla was right, it was absolutely none of my business who she chose to get naked with.

Images of stripping her out of her overalls and bending her backward over a work bench had filled my head, my body responding, and despite trying not to think of Orla’s pint-sized body under my hands, I hadn’t been strong enough to resist. When I had taken my pleasure, it had beenwith her name on my lips, and I’d woken up feeling a touch guilty this morning. She was an employee of sorts, after all, and I was certain Munroe would frown upon me trying to date her.

Hadn’t he been the one to suggest I take her to the gala though?

In a professional capacity, I was certain, and yet I couldn’t help but look forward to having an entire night to spend with her. Orla intrigued me. She was a contradictory mix of both wary and confident, seamlessly handling difficult projects and mediating employee relationships, yet standoffish and short when pulled into personal discussions. I wanted to peel back her layers, much like I’d peeled off her clothes in my dream, and discover who she was.

Which, again, was stupid. It wasn’t like I had time for relationships. And Orla was most definitely a relationship type of woman.

The day my father had died was the day that I’d learned that everyone had secrets. In every action and word, my father had seemed perfect. The perfect husband, the perfect father, the perfect friend.Everyonehad loved him.

He’d died in the arms of his lover, revealing a string of infidelities and ruining the carefully constructed image I’d had of him. The image he’d workedsohard to preserve. Add that with a dried-up bank account and debts owed, and I’d been forced to step forward to care for my mother in the way she was accustomed to so she didn’t lose face in society.

In grieving him, not just the father he’d been, but the image I’d constructed of him, I’d become focused on creating security for both me and my mother, which was why I was so driven to succeed professionally. It also leftvery little room for relationships. Because of this, I’d always found it easier to stay unattached, to put the stakes up front, and to keep things casual with my lovers.

And Orla was anything but casual. She took her work seriously, treated most conversations with an intensity that I couldn’t quite understand, and didn’t strike me as a no-strings-attached kind of woman. Which meant, once again, that I needed to keep things professional with her. Friends at most.

Never lovers, no matter how much it now seemed I wished for her to unravel beneath my hands. Ever since we saw the unicorn together, I couldn’t help recalling the feeling of her in my arms. She was relatively tiny, but strong.She’d fit my body perfectly. I hadn’t wanted to let go.

Even now, my fingers clenched at the thought of touching her, and I realized that somewhere along the way, the quick-witted Orla had worked herself into my head.

Speaking of, I needed to stop by the shelter and pay what I had promised Orla as payment for her to attend the gala. It was the weekend, and I hoped they would be open, but I didn’t want to delay too long in case they were waiting to buy the supplies for their extension.

After a quick shower and a bite of toast with my cup of tea, I left the wee rental cottage I was staying at and walked to the shelter, enjoying the soft spring morning. I always enjoyed spring, when the sunshine would burn off the crispy fog of morning, and the hint of new garden growth tinged the air. A cherry blossom tree hung her branches over the pavement, blush pink petals fluttering in the breeze, as though nature was throwing a party to welcome the arrival of summer. Loch Mirren was still, the morninglight dancing across her surface, the trees that lined the shore mere smudges of paint on her reflection. It was quiet here, in a way that it rarely got in Edinburgh, and I glanced up as three crows swooped low over my head, following my path.

Could I get used to small town life?

Maybe. It certainly had its perks. A built-in friend group, beautiful natural landscapes, and a laid-back atmosphere. I hadn’t even worn half the clothes I’d brought with me, finding there was very little need for suits and ties here. The meetings I had were done at the construction site, not in the boardroom, and I was enjoying being more hands-on, even if I had to work late a few nights a week to make sure the spreadsheets tallied up and the project stayed on budget.

I heard the barking before I even arrived at the shelter, and I smiled at the woman with kind eyes and a messy bun of gray hair behind the front desk.

“Good morning, it’s a braw day, isn’t it?”

“It is at that,” I agreed, leaning an arm on the counter.

“Are you here to meet the pups then?”

“No, I’d just like to make a donation.”

“Och, well, now. That’s just grand, isn’t it? We certainly appreciate every quid we can get. There’s a box there.” The lady nodded to a small donation box on the counter with a slit in the top.

“Uh, it’s a touch more…sizeable than that. Do you have a card reader? If not, can I get your bank details? I’ll transfer it over.”

“Brilliant. We absolutely could use it.” The woman beamed at me like I’d just told her I’d managed to end worldhunger and picked up a small portable card reader. “How much would you like to donate then?”

“One thousand pounds.”

The card reader jostled in her hands, and she peered at me over the counter.

“Did I hear that correctly?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Och, that’s brilliant. Just brilliant. We’ll be able to get our extension after all.” A suspicious sheen glimmered in the woman’s eyes, and I immediately felt awkward, never certain how to navigate a woman’s tears.

“Yes, I hear it’s needed. What are you planning then?”

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