“Thank you for bringing me along,” she says dreamily.
“My pleasure.”
She glances back at the view one more time before coming back over to me and Fergus, and we take the trail back to the parking lot.
I glance down at her. She’s significantly shorter than me, her wild dirty-blonde curls are up in a bun, and I wonder if she ever wears it down. She turns up to look at me, her cheeks slightly rosy, rounded golden glasses framing the most unique shade of green eyes I’ve ever seen.
Fuck. I have a crush, and I have it bad.
I clear my throat and I swear she smirks as we reach the visitor center.
Gayle, David, Jenny, and Todd are all waiting by the vehicle, and I smile. Older tourists are my favorite because I rarely have to go chasing them down from stop to stop. They’re always on time. Plus, they actually like to hear all the history and my small facts.
I don’t have an issue with kids, but they are a tour guide's worst nightmare. They get the seats sticky, have to take a piss every ten minutes, and usually complain about the long drives.
But Maisie, sitting next to Fergus, petting his chin, might be my favorite guest yet.
We make our way to the next loch and I feel like I’m giving my best performance yet as I spit off historical facts, trivia, and anything else I can think of.
When we get to the parking lot, I grab the hiking bag I bring, filling it with waters and offer a hiking stick to whomever would like one.
“We’re going to do three trail heads today. We’re not in any rush. Please let me know if we need any breaks,” I tell everyone as we start on our first trail.
I have the couples go ahead of me. The first two trails are easy, relatively flat walks, and I like for them to set the pace. Every now and then, I point out an interesting tree, or a creature we see—rattling off some Scottish myth or Highland lore as we go.
Maisie and Fergus walk next to me. She’s quiet and I realize that I’ll need to be the one to fill the silence.
“Do you do a lot of hiking back home?” I ask her.
“From my apartment to wherever I ordered food. I don’t leave the city much,” she says.
“Which city would that be?”
“Chicago.”
“And you like it, living in the city?” I ask.
Her brows furrow, she uses her palm to push her glasses up against her face.
“Well, it’s where I always lived. So I guess it’s fine.”
“I went to the University of Edinburgh. It was nice to live in a city for a little while, but it didn’t feel like home. I moved back as soon as I graduated, Greer, Callum, and I bought a place. They built up the restaurant and I started my business. The nature, the close-knit community, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I tell her.
She glances up at me, not paying attention to where she’s walking, and she stumbles. I grab her arm to steady her and she clears her throat.
“The way you talk about this place, it’s the same way my mom did.”
“Why didn’t she move back?” I ask.
“She was a single mom, a Beta. My dad dipped to go start a pack. Finances were tight, but she had a steady job in Chicago,and me and Birdie had already made friends and a routine. I don’t think she wanted to uproot our lives.”
“Your ma sounds like she was a strong woman,” I say.
“She was,” she agrees as we reach the bridge and I have to go back into tour guide mode.
We do the other trails, Meall Dubh trail being a huge hit with the stone steps, gorgeous views, and we eventually return to the village.
Everyone seems properly tired, but having had a great time as we make the drive back to town. I purposely end and start the tour at Greer’s.
