Page 71 of The Great British Bachelor Chase

“Bradley doesn’t give two shits about Austen, or this film,” Fraser says bluntly. “He wasn’t around when it was commissioned, he’d rather be pumping out reality shows and action movies. I’ve kept him at bay as much as I could,” he adds. “I reckoned a few hundred grand in savings could keep him happy long enough to get the movie finished, but now… If Hugo quits, this early? That’s it, he’ll have the perfect excuse to pull the plug.”

I let out a whimper. “The whole production, trashed. And it’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Fraser tries to argue.

“Who else will they blame?” I ask, rueful. “I can’t believe this, I finally find a career direction that I’m good at—that I love!—and I find a way to fuck it up for everyone within the week.”

“You really love this movie business?” Fraser asks, pausing at an old-fashioned lemonade stand to buy us a couple of drinks. “I thought Reeve just roped you into it, to help out with the Austen stuff.”

“He did, at first,” I agree, taking a welcome sip of the tart, icy drink. “But watching the way the script took shape, and then arriving on set, seeing everything built and brought to life... It felt amazing, being a part of something like that. Being helpful!” I add. “I mean, I thought all my dorky historical knowledge would be completely useless in the real world, but then I find the one place where understanding Austen’s subtext of social satire makes me a valuable part of the team. It was great—while it lasted,” I say wistfully. “I thought I could make a real go of it. Tons of movies and TV shows need a literary expert, or researcher to keep things accurate. But I doubt anyone will hire me as their consultant again once word gets out that I tanked the whole production.”

“It’s not your fault,” Fraser insists again. “You can’t stand in the way of two hearts that are determined to be together. Doesn’t matter how long it takes,” he adds, “I reckon the universe finds a way. I mean, what are the chances I’d walk in on you in that bathroom after all this time? And at the perfect moment, too,” he adds with a smirk.

“That’s sweet,” I sigh. “Totally unhelpful to me right now, but sweet.”

He chuckles, pulling me closer. “This isn’t your fault,” Fraser reassures you. “Hugo’s a grown man. He gets to decide what he wants out of life—and if he thinks the consequences are worth it… Who are we to judge?”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but still… “He shouldn’t have to choose,” I mutter stubbornly. “Between what he loves to do, and the person who’s important to him.”

Fraser gives a rueful laugh. “Aye. But sometimes that’s just what happens.”

With time to kill,we browse the festival, and take in the attractions. We watch a troupe of Scottish dancers do a fast-kicking showcase, admire the prize vegetables, pet some donkeys, and listen to more bagpipers than I thought possible. By the time we loop back around to the pasty booth, I’m full of traditional Scottish foods, faintly sun-burned and determined not to accept defeat. At least, not until I’ve gotten to the bottom of Hugo’s mysterious change of heart.

“We’re all sold out,” Hugo announces proudly, greeting us at the booth. The very empty booth. It's still only afternoon, but clearly, the people of Skye love their pasties. “We had people lining up for second helpings. And everyone wants to come by the restaurant and taste the rest of his menu, too.”

“Congratulations,” I cheer them both.

“Do you need to be getting back to the mainland?” Max asks. “If you’d like to stay for dinner, I can rustle up my famous mushroom risotto.”

“Yes, you must stay!” Hugo insists immediately. “He forages them from the woods behind the house, it’s incredible. And spend the night, too, it’s the least we can do,” he adds, smiling. “You’ve come all this way, and you’ll be heading back to Sussex empty-handed.”

“And I wouldn’t advise driving after the wine I’ve got planned to pair,” Max adds with a friendly smile.

I look back and forth between them and get an idea. “Foraging, that sounds like fun, don’t you think, Fraser?”

I elbow him, and he blinks, confused. “Aye, sure. Fun.”

“Why don’t you go mushroom hunting with Max then?” I suggest brightly. “I need to wash my hair and do girly things, back at the house. Hugo, I hope you brought that skincare collection.”

Max snorts with laughter. “Oh, he does. We’ve enough moisturizer to revive my old leather couch."

“Great,” I beam, ignoring Fraser’s curious looks, until the others are distracted packing up the car. “Divide and conquer,” I whisper to him. “Talk to Max and find out if he’s pressuring Hugo to quit. I’ll stay at the house, and chat Hugo’s ear off about the movie and how excited everybody is. Maybe I can remind him why he fell in love with the part in the first place.”

“Jolene…” Fraser says, warning.

“I know, I know!” I sigh. “It’s probably a lost cause. But we’ve come all this way. We have to try something. Right?”

19

FRASER

We stop backat the house to grab Max’s mushroom-hunting gear, and for me to jam my feet into a pair of borrowed wellies. Then, we head out on foot, across the fields and towards the small woodland area nearby. I'm not sure what Jolene expects me to say to the man to turn this situation around, but there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than out in the fresh air.

“I can’t say I’ve ever foraged before,” I say, tramping over the muddy ground, still wet from the recent rain, “Aside from stripping the neighbor’s blackberry bushes, that is.”

Max smiles. “It’s the best way to get ingredients for the restaurant,” he says, striding along. “You can find chanterelles out in the woods, wild garlic, sorrel… Then there’s the shoreline, too,” he adds, “I’ve been experimenting with seaweeds, harvesting it fresh at low tide. There’s a bounty out there if you know where to look for it.”

There’s certainly plenty of places to look. Jolene was right, crossing the border back into Scotland shifted something inside of me, and now despite all the rushing and drama—and the fact I’m probably about to get fired when Bradley finds out about this wee road trip of ours—I feel remarkably cheerful, out in the woods with the prospect of a fine meal waiting tonight.

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