His eyebrows hit his hairline. “For what?”
“It’ll go faster with both of us, won’t it?”
His eyes dropped to my boots again, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Lazy, big-city billionaire. What the hell did I know about manual labor?
“Hate for you to ruin those boots stepping in shite and boggy water,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m not concerned about my boots,” I insisted. “I’ll give you a hand.”
Callum shook his head, staring at me like I’d lost the plot. “This isn’t one of your executive office suites,” he muttered. “The trail will be rough. Wouldn’t want you to trip and hurt yourself.”
I scowled at him, irritation pulsing in my temple. “I assure you, I’ll be fine.”
Callum grunted. “I don’t have time to babysit soft hands.”
I gritted my teeth, biting down on my frustration. I was more than capable of clearing a trail. Besides, I wanted to do right by the property that meant so much to Grandad. He was the one I’d always been able to count on. The adult Itrustedwhen I couldn’t rely on my parents after their divorce. I wanted to be worthy of the land he’d left me. I wanted to prove I could take care of it. “I’m not going to debate this with you. I’ll come give you a hand.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, gesturing to the house. “Why don’t you stop by the kitchen and fuel up while I get the tools? It’s a big job.Agnes’ll never let me hear the end of it if I have to drag you back here, half-dead from exhaustion.”
“Fine,” I muttered, stalking off inside as Milo trotted after Callum, as merry as could be.
I pushed through a side door, still pulsing with annoyance. The narrow hallway led into the back of the kitchen. I slipped off my boots so Agnes didn’t get on my case for tracking in mud, pausing as I heard dishes rattle.
“Agnes?” I called, coming around the corner, assuming the woman was faffing around with breakfast. Instead, I found Lena. “You’re awake?”
She stared at me, blinked, cocked her head to the side, then blinked again, like she was seeing me for the very first time in her life.
“Why do you look surprised?” I asked, walking over to the counter and slipping off my waxed jacket, leaving me in my fitted thermal, grimacing at the way it stuck to my skin, already damp with sweat from the walk around the property.
“It’s nothing,” she said, the tops of her cheeks pinking as her gaze slid over me where my shirt was clinging, dropping briefly to my dark green trousers. “You startled me. I didn’t expect you to appear from around the corner. Are there, like, secret passages hidden behind the bookshelves? Is this really a dishwasher or a tunnel to the dungeons?”
“If there are secret passages, I certainly haven’t found any. And not for lack of trying.”
She shook her head, moving through the kitchen like she’d been doing it all her life. “Agnes made up some breakfast for you. Sheleft it in that pan on the stovetop and said if you didn’t eat it, she’d give you nothing but black pudding for the next week.”
I wrinkled my nose. I hated the stuff. “Have you been getting an education in making a Scottish fry-up?”
Lena hummed as she pulled two mugs out of the cupboard. The ones with the thistle pattern Grandad had always favored. My chest clenched. “She told me you like a good tattie scone for breakfast when you’re here.”
“Can’t beat them. That or a sausage butty in the morning.” I picked one of the fluffy potato cakes and a slice of bacon from the pan and took a bite as I climbed onto a stool at the island and shoved my sleeves up. “I really didn’t expect you to already run on Highland time. At least not this soon.”
Lena’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she looked at me again. For a moment, the redness in her cheeks darkened. Then she glanced away. “I always get to the office an hour ahead of you. Early mornings are nothing new for me.”
“We’ll see how you fare later with the jetlag. I bet you’ll be crashing out before dinner.”
She avoided looking at me as she hummed in response.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she insisted, shoving a mug of coffee across the counter. “Here.”
It was fixed just how I liked it. One sugar and a splash of milk. She’d handed me my morning coffee more times than I could count over the years, but something about her handing methatmug, from the pair Gran had bought for Grandad during one of their trips to the Isle of Skye, felt strangely intimate. “Thanks.”
My eyes flicked over her, my thoughts spinning as an unfamiliar sensation shot through me. The closeness felt odd. Scotland with Lena felt…odd. I’d spent almost every day with this woman for years, but as I blinked at her now, she seemed like a different person.
Maybe that was just because she was standing there in jeans and a sweater instead of the business casual attire I was used to. Or maybe I was just overwhelmed with memories, here in this place that made me feel vulnerable in ways Houston never could. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Different. New. But oddly…nice.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.
