Page 11 of Highland Hearts Holiday Bookshop

A point I’d dearly love to argue, what with my position as a software engineer at the university largely relying on my powers of observation, but that would mean more conversation with these women whom I sincerely hoped would leave me alone before they brought up my prowess, or lack thereof, in the bedroom again.

“What’s her name?” Meredith asked.

“Didn’t ask.” I sipped my Guinness, waiting for the inevitable next question.

“Young? Old?” Esther asked.

“Um, medium, maybe? Younger than me probably.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Hmm, that is young. I hope she doesn’t ruin the shop. Make it like…trendy or something.” Another woman, Cherise, plopped down at the table with a fresh glass of wine. Cherise’s jumper said she was a Bookaholic. It seemed the Book Bitches preferred pun-based clothing.

“What’s wrong with being trendy? We’re on TikTok. And wee Wallace has an Instagram account.” Esther nodded toward a cat that was currently sleeping on a stool at the end of the bar. Above him a picture frame sat with a wee dram of whisky poured at the ready. A way to honor the former owner, I was told, and I admired thesentiment. It would be nice to be remembered when you were gone.

“Was she pretty?”

I blinked at Esther, realizing she’d asked me the question twice now, and lifted my pint again.

“Isn’t that subjective?”

“Fine. Didyoufind her to be attractive, Dr. MacTavish?” Esther’s eyes sharpened and I groaned inwardly.

If I said no, somehow it might get back to the lass from Highland Hearts that I thought she was ugly or something. This town was full of gossips and news traveled fast. If I said yes, then I suspected these women would try to set me up. They were developing a bit of a reputation for enjoying matchmaking, likely due to all the romance novels they read.

“Of course,” I said, and Esther’s eyes lit. “But I find all women to be beautiful. Don’t you agree?”

Esther narrowed her eyes at me and muttered something that sounded dangerously close to “cheeky bastard.” I grinned into my pint.

“You’re quite sweet, aren’t you?” Shannon leaned closer. “Why aren’t you married yet?”

“Tried it out. Didn’t take.”

“Och, you just picked the wrong woman then.”

Didn’t I know that?

Instead, I just shrugged a shoulder, refusing to be drawn into a conversation about my past that I wasn’t interested in revisiting. Tarahadbeen a poor choice as a partner, but for a moment, she’d made me feel fun andexciting when she’d drag me on adventures until I grew too boring for her when I’d needed to finish my PhD studies. Soon her adventures had included other men, and while I could tolerate a lot in a relationship, infidelity had been a dealbreaker. Which she’d well known. I just wished she’d broken it off instead of lying to me, but Tara had loved a dopamine hit, and seeing me get mad had lit her up inside.

I enjoyed my quiet life now, and I didn’t intend for that hard fought peace to be disrupted.

“So I rescued a puffin today.” It was time to steer the conversation elsewhere, otherwise the women would continue prying at me, and I really didn’t want to have to skull my beer just to get away from their nosiness. Gasps went up, and I took a sigh of relief. Crisis averted, even though it meant the whole pub had turned at my words—there was no way to avoid conversation tonight now.

The Royal Unicorn was a small pub, recently and lovingly restored by the owner Reed, and his girlfriend Harper. With thick stone walls, some pretty black and white photography of Kingsbarns through the ages, and a cheerful fireplace in the corner, it was the perfect place to cozy in on a cold winter’s night. It was also another hub for village gossip, aside from the Two Sisters coffee shop, and a stop at both during the day would catch most people up to speed on any major goings-on in the surrounding areas. If you were interested in who had taken ill recently, who was shagging whom, or whose son was off to university, well, then this was your place.

That being said, living as close to nature as we all did, andwith very little else going on in Kingsbarns, there was more than one person who enjoyed birding like I did. A puffin rescue would be the talk of the town, that was for sure.

“What happened? Did he survive?”

“Wrong time of year for them to be this close to shore.”

“Where did you take him?”

“Will he be okay?”

“How did you catch him?”

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