Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Alana,” he says, his voice sounding uncharacteristically flustered. “I thought it would take me longer to get here, somehow….”
“I’m glad,” I say, beaming. “I thought I’d come down here early so you wouldn’t have to call up from the desk,” I add.
“Well,” he says, and whatever nerves he felt seem to dissipate in a wide grin to match my own. “Looks like neither of us could wait to get started.”
“I don’t even know what we’re doing today,” I say, then flush at the omission. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
Finlay chuckles and holds out his hand, which I take with a thrill of excitement. “Time to find out, then.”
I laugh as he whirls me right out of the hotel and toward the waiting buggy, and before I can fully get my bearings, we are charging over the hills again.
“Are we going to the house?” I ask, feeling nervous spill through my stomach and bubble through my veins.
I find myself gripping the underside of my seat, not out of fear of the speed of the car but because I think I might just float away if I don’t.
“Not yet,” Finlay replies, and when I look at his face, I catch a glimpse of something strange I can’t quite put my finger on. A determination, maybe. “We’re going to the village first.”
“Oh!” I exclaim, finding the idea quite welcome. “I was looking forward to visiting somewhere local while I was here. I need to get some souvenirs.”
“Aye,” Finlay nods. “You’ll definitely be able to get some there. We’ve got a few shops that offer the kind of thing they’ll like back home.”
“Like what?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat, eager to get there already now that we’re talking about it.
“There’s a local kind of fudge that normally goes down pretty well,” he chuckles. “Scottish shortbread, of course. And though we’re no Loch Ness here, somehow there’s a man at the end of the village closer to the loch who makes a fair living selling Nessie figurines and keyrings.”
I laugh. “I’ll bet a few people would love that.” My nervousness recedes at the ease of our conversation.
“Let’s see, I need something for Mom and Dad, something for my Aunt Jill and Uncle Joe…oh, can’t forget my cousins, all three of them, and then there are the cousins on my dad’s side….”
Finlay shoots me a sideways glance. “Sure you don’t want to get something for your postman, doctor, dentist, and bus driver?”
I stop midway through my count, my mouth open for a moment in alarm. “Is it tradition to buy something for the mailman here? Do you think I should?”
He laughs so hard I feel the buggy easing off in speed. Not far away is an actual road, and he carefully turns the buggy onto it, keeping it even on all four wheels, so there are no harsh bumps when we move down from the grass edge.
“I was just teasing,” he says. “You’re buying gifts for a lot of people there. I guess family is pretty important to you.”
“Yes,” I murmur and sigh wistfully. “I’ve always dreamed of having a big family of my own one day. Everyone tells me to think about career and money first, but honestly, having my own children is what I know will make me happier than anything else.”
“Me, too,” Finlay says. There is a strange undercurrent to his voice. I glance at his face, but he’s concentrated on the road.
“You’ve never had a family?” I ask.
It’s a valid question, after all. If he wants a family so much, why doesn’t he have one already? He’s almost twenty years older than me and quite successful.
“No,” Finlay says, shaking his head. “The estate was too important. I came back here after university and lost contact with most of the people I knew back then. And there wasn’t time to go out looking for a wife or anything like that at the time. I guess I just had other priorities.”
I consider this for a moment. It has to be a brushing-over of the truth.
He must have had so many girlfriends over the years. He’s extremely handsome and has a freaking estate or castle.
“There wasn’t anyone who got away?” I ask. “Someone you considered bringing back here, maybe?”
He simply shrugs.
Up ahead, a quaint sign announces we are entering the village of Barnbraw. My eyes widen momentarily.
He has a village named after him.
Maybe that should have been obvious given the name of the estate, but….
Finlay has a whole freaking village named after him.
After parking the buggy in the quaint village square, complete with cobblestones on the ground, I stretch my arms above my head, breathing in the fresh country air deeply.
The air is different out here, without the heavy traffic of city life and the skyscrapers blocking out the blue sky. It makes me feel so much more alive.