Page 88 of Some Like It Scot
“Wait.” Katie looked over at me. “This is Maggie, the Knitting Nazi’s farm?”
My laugh burst out, and I gave her hand a squeeze. “Knitting Nazi?”
“Have you seen her knit?” Katie’s eyes widened again. “Oh, I understand now. She must be taking out her sheep frustration through knitting. It makes perfect sense. If I worked with sheep all day, I’d find a way to release my frustration too.”
I chuckled, reluctantly let go of her hand, and exited the car, meeting Katie on the other side.
“Well, let’s see what you’re made of, lass” came Maggie’s first words as she approached, pulling her sweater around her shouldersand giving Katie a look from head to toe. “And if they don’t kill you the first time, it’s a good sign.”
At first I feared Maggie had destroyed any chance of Katie stepping forward. The older woman wasn’t known for her bedside manner. But Katie must have caught the glint in Maggie McClean’s eyes, because she plucked up and placed her hands on her hips.
“Maggie, I’m sure that if I have you as a guide, I’m going to be just fine.”
The woman’s smile crinkled her entire face and she looked over at me. “You’ve got a smart one here, Graeme. Flattery will get you everywhere.” Her expression sobered. “Except with sheep. They take a calm approach, and the fewer words the better.”
***
Katie
“I think Maggie’s taken a bit of a fancy to you.”
I chuckled and looked over at Graeme as we drove back toward Craighill, his teasing more recognizable now that I knew him a bit better. Plus, his lips crooked ever so slightly on one side, confirming his humor.
Not that I focused on his lips a lot. Sometimes I got distracted by his shoulders or eyes, and now the new sense of holding his hand.
But little clues certainly helped a girl out. Especially a girl who was trying to figure out if this whole “Falling for a Scot” thing was real, or just a fragment of my online persona.
“Do you mean from the way she failed to warn me that one of the sheep had a tendency to ram strangers with his head?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Or was it the way she placed a little feed on the back of my sweater so one of the sheep kept trying to eat my clothes?”
His grin spread wide. “Maggie McClean is known for her teasing nature, and the fact she did so with you only proved how much she likes you.”
“She tortures those she loves, is that it?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “In the best way. Very Scottish.”
I pressed my body back into the car seat, the happy hum of a satisfying day calming my racing heart. Despite the antics of Maggie and her sheep, I had to admit, I’d tiptoed toward overcoming my sheep terror.
“Well, I don’t plan to flock toward buying a sheep farm in the future, but I have to admit, it wasn’tsobad.” I sighed. “And Maggie makes some of the best... what was it called?”
“Tipsy laird,” he offered.
“Oh my goodness, yes.” I placed a palm over my happy stomach. “I’ve had trifle before, but that one? I love raspberries. Thank you, Maggie!” I sighed. “And I loved the tea. Did you say it was heather tea?”
“Moorland tea can be made from heather, aye.”
This place oozed with discoveries. Around every corner. From the food to the landscape to the history, culture, and people. It’s as if I could never learn enough. The videos Graeme took of me and the sheep were bound to be a great distraction from Mark’s post, but they’d also answer a challenge from some of the readers to face my fears.
The readers always loved when I took their requests or considerations into account while traveling. And their votes for the Scot in my life certainly matched my own.
But the scariest part was, I didn’t want the match to be a fling or something temporary. Graeme and Lachlan and Mirren—even moody Maggie—were starting to take up space in my heart in a way that hurt when I thought about leaving.
And I knew women gave up their dreams all the time for love. The movies and fiction spoke of it in spades, but I loved traveling too. Finding stories brought me such joy. But in my limited experience, men didn’t want a woman who traveled around the world.
Ah! What was I even thinking? Graeme hadn’t asked me to stay. He’d held my hand. That was it. Hand-holding didn’t equate to a lifelong commitment.
Deep breaths, Katie. You’re overthinking like a pro.
“You never got to finish telling me about heather’s legend.”
