Ellie shrugs. “It’s not like you can drive right up here. And if you could, it wouldn’t be the same. This is what people call a ‘thin place’.”
“Thin place?”
“You know how sometimes you go somewhere and it just feels... different? Like the boundary between our world and something else isn’t quite as solid?”
“Yeah... I feel it too.” A shiver runs over my arms, then I shake it off. “Although if this turns into a time-travel situation, I want advance notice so I can at least fix my hair before meeting Jamie Fraser.”
Ellie laughs, and the mood eases. She sets down her bag and starts unpacking: sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil, a flask, a couple of apples. It’s simple, but out here, surrounded by hills and history, it feels like a feast.
“Wow, Ellie. This is amazing. Meanwhile I brought... an appetite. Next time, though, the food is on me.”
We tuck in, and after a while, Ellie says, “So, how are things going with the brooding and monosyllabic ferry captain?”
“Turns out he’s not as brooding or monosyllabic as I first thought. He came over last night to apologise that I had to hang out with Finn on my day off. We ended up having a drink. Scotch.” I glance at the looming stones uneasily, then lower my voice. “Not my favourite.”
“Careful,” Ellie says, grey-blue eyes alight with mischief. “Saying that too loud around here could get you exiled. And yet... whisky with Lachlan Munro? That sounds... cosy. You’re not developing feelings for your grumpy boss, are you?”
I nearly choke on my sandwich (cheese and chutney because apparently that’s a thing here—surprisingly good). “As if! I’m only saying he’s notquiteas much of a grump as I first thought, not that I’m attracted to him.”Though he’s not exactly unpleasant to look at, I add silently. “Getting involved with him would be unprofessional. Complicated. Stupid. And that’s not me.”
Time to redirect before Ellie gets too smug. “What about you, huh? No secret someone you’ve got your eye on in this charming town?”
Ellie makes a face but there’s a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Not really.”
“Oh, come on.” I lean in, grinning. “You must at least have a crush. Who is it? Spill.”
She laughs, a shy little giggle that’s about as un-Ellie as I’ve seen her. “Well... I do quite like a certain man who lives in a house with roses climbing up the walls.”
“Douglas? As in the father of the twins? Are you a glutton for punishment?”
Her giggle turns into full-on laughter. “I know. They’re adorable, but after their last trip to the library I needed paracetamol.”
We both crack up at that. When the laughter dies down, though, Ellie sobers, her smile gentler now. “But it’s a lost cause. Douglas’s wife, Leah, is in and out of the picture. Sometimes gone for months, sometimes suddenly back. No matter how long she’s been away, he always takes her back. So... yes. Maybe I am a glutton for punishment. But we can’t help who we’re attracted to, right?”
Immediately, unhelpfully, my mind serves up an image: Lachlan across from me at the little table in the granny flat last night. The intensity of those green eyes. The rare smile tugging at his lips. His shirt clinging to his chest in ways I had no business noticing. And those forearms—seriously, forearms should not be allowed to be that distracting.
Ellie’s right. Youcan’thelp who you’re attracted to. Even if that person happens to be your broody, infuriating, ridiculously hot boss.
“... and then Ellie produced these perfect little sandwiches, cheese and chutney, like she’s Mary Poppins. Nothing fancy, but out there it tasted like a five-star picnic.”
On the laptop screen, Mom laughs, eyes crinkling. Dad tilts his head. “Standing stones and cheese sandwiches. You’re living the dream, kiddo.”
I’m back in the granny flat, catching up with my parents by video call.
“I’m telling you, it’s magical here. I saw an otter this morning too. On the beach. Just hanging out, like, ‘Hey, welcome to Scotland.’”
“You sound so happy,” Mom says. “It’s good to see you smiling.”
Dad nods then clears his throat. “I know you’re there to take a breather, and this nanny thing sounds great, but... are you keeping an eye out for jobs back here?”
“Michael!” Mom elbows him. “She went there to escape all that, remember?”
“Right, right. It’s just, Blair was so passionate about her career...”
I smile, though there’s a tug in my chest. “Nope, I’m not looking for a job back home. Not right now anyway. I’m going to give Scotland my full attention for a while.”
“That’s exactly what you need,” Mom says. “Don’t rush. You’ll figure things out when the time’s right.”
Dad lifts his hands in surrender. “Point taken, no career talk. But as your dad, I reserve the right to ask about this ferry captain. He’s treating you okay, right?”
