CHAPTER ELEVEN
BLAIR
I wake up to sunlight streaming through a gap in my curtains—actual Highland sparkle, not the gloomy drizzle we had yesterday. Everything feels quiet, like the world’s still deciding whether to wake up or roll over for another hour.
I sit up and yawn. Despite last night’s Scotch experiment, my head is clear. I guess I did only manage one before christening the table.
Which reminds me... the way Lachlan’s hand covered mine when we both reached for the glass...
Nope. Not going there. Fresh air, that’s what I need.
Jeans, sweater, sneakers. Notebook, pen. Five minutes later I’m crunching across the pebble beach, the air so sharp and clean it practically exfoliates my lungs. I feelawake, and I’ve not even had a coffee yet.
I perch on a boulder that’s just the right height for writing. See? The Highlands want me to be productive. Pen, paper, waves. Zero algorithms, zero tech-bro slogans about “minimum viable product” or other nonsense. Just me and my thoughts and a story waiting to be found.
I’m scribbling random observations—about how the water glitters like it’s auditioning for a jewellery commercial, and howthe seaweed looks like mermaid hair—when movement catches my eye. Something sleek and dark emerges from the water and onto a nearby rock.
No way.
An otter.
My jaw actually drops. I’m staring at a legit wild otter, water streaming off its whiskers. It shakes itself, droplets spraying in a perfect arc, then flops down to groom.
I freeze. Do. Not. Move. Apparently, I’ve been chosen by the otter gods, and I’m not about to blow it. For a good two minutes, I watch this little guy roll in the sunshine, completely ignoring me. Then—splash—it’s gone, leaving behind only a widening circle of ripples.
Okay, wow. That was . . . yeah. Magical.
My fingers fly over the page. Sleek fur. Whiskers. The ripple-ring thing. Maybe my story will have an otter in it. Maybe?—
“Blair!”
Finn barrels down the path from the house in his pyjamas, waving at me, Gus galloping ahead of him.
“Morning!” I snap my notebook shut, just in case Gus decides it’s his new chew toy, then give him a good scratch when he comes over to say hello. I glance around for Lachlan but there’s no sign of him. “Are you two allowed down here by yourselves?”
“Aye!” Finn beams at me. “So long as we stay where my da can see us from the kitchen window and don’t go too close to the water. Besides, we’re not by ourselves. You’re here!”
“True,” I reply with a grin.
He sits himself down beside me and glances at my notebook. “What’re you writing?”
“Just some ideas for a story. I think it might have an otter in it. I literally just saw one, right there.” I point out the spot, and Finn’s face goes through a whole journey of emotions:excitement, wonder, then something that looks suspiciously like betrayal.
“You saw an otter? A real one?”
“Yeah, it came right up on that rock and?—”
“I’ve lived here since I was two and I’ve never seen one. You’ve been here, like, a week!” Then, in a mutter: “So unfair.”
I have to bite back a smile at his indignation. “Hey, I just got lucky. They’re shy. Right place, right time.”
“I suppose,” he says, but he still doesn’t look overly happy. “I know it’s the weekend, but seeing as we did something together yesterday, do you think we could do something together again today?”
“Oh, Finn.” His hopeful face just about kills me. “I’d love to, but I’ve already got plans. Ellie’s offered to take me to a secret local spot she says tourists don’t usually see.”
His whole body droops. “Oh.”
“But hey, from tomorrow, we’ve got the whole week together, right?”
