“Are you feeling any better?”
I rose then, brushing my hands off on my pants before taking her hand in mine. “Aye, I am. Have you heard back from the lawyer?”
She nodded. “Let’s discuss it inside.” She tugged on my hand, leading me up the steps. Admittedly, I was surprised she held on and I gripped her a little tighter as I followed her. When we reached the landing, I turned to look out across Lochbrae and I knew that with Lena by my side and the town behind us, there was no way I was going to let Jasper take that away from me.
21
LENA
“Can you pull that side a little higher?” I called, watching Aiden tug on the end of the banner that ran across the high street. It fluttered in the light breeze, the words BRAEBURN ANNUAL SUMMER FESTIVAL on display.
“Banner looks good,” Weston said, coming to stand beside me. He wore dark designer jeans today, well-fitted but casual, and a deep burgundy polo shirt that not only showed off his forearms but his impressive biceps as well. The outfit was completed by his Tom Ford sunglasses, and I had to admit that looking at him had me a little hot under the collar.
I was still getting used to Weston without his suits. And every new version of casual Weston I unlocked set off a full-body shudder. “I had Agnes’s knitting circle give it a facelift,” I said before the flush in my cheeks could spread any further. “Same history, fewer holes.”
“You really have thought of everything.” He turned to me, pulling off his sunglasses, hitting me with a soft, unguardedsmile. The kind that was usually reserved for when we were alone together, in bed.
“Not everything,” I said, clicking my tongue and consulting my clipboard. “I know there’s something I’ve forgotten. I can feel it.”
His hands fell to my shoulders, squeezing gently, grounding me before my thoughts could race off in ten different directions. “Just relax.”
“I’ll relax when all the setup is finished and people have arrived and it’s clear everyone’s having a good time?—”
“Lena,” he growled in that way that always sent a shiver up my spine.
I narrowed my eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, and part of me wanted to resent him weaponizing my weak spots against me—but I also knew he was doing it for my own good. I released a heavy sigh. “I know, Iknow. I just want everything to be perfect. As perfect as it would have been if Pete were still at the helm. I want?—”
“To do him proud,” Weston said immediately.
I nodded. When I’d originally agreed to help with the festival, it had been to help Weston smooth over his PR crisis. But now, well…Things were different. Now I genuinely cared about the people in this town. Not to mention Weston himself. I cared so very much for him—and I knew how important it was to him to get this right. And that meant the last thing I wanted to do was let Braeburn down. The committee had worked hard to pull everything together over the past several weeks, and I wanted today to be everything they’d imagined.
“I already know Grandad would be proud,” Weston said, tilting his head to regard all the volunteers still scurrying across the high street. “Regardless of how the festival turns out, he’d be proud that we’re here, supporting the town he cared about. I think he’d be grateful for that.” His gaze traveled back to mine. “Plus, everything is running like clockwork thanks to you. Setup is almost finished. The vendors are arriving. Even the weather is gorgeous.”
And it was! Not that I could take any credit for it, but we’d gotten the perfect mix of sunshine and puffy white clouds rolling over the hills. Maybe this day really would turn out perfect after all. Or maybe it would be an unmitigated disaster. Who could say? Until I knew for sure, my stomach was going to stay uncomfortably fluttery. I’d always internalized stress right into my stomach, and right now, a whole swarm of butterflies were having a cage match in there, which was annoying, as it hadn’t done this in a while. Well, not since I vented to Tess in the middle of Let It Dough and set this whole maelstrom off.
“Say haggis, you two!”
I twisted to see Isla standing on the sidewalk, camera held to her face as she snapped a photo of us. Weston tucked his arm around my shoulders. “She’s been following me everywhere,” he murmured.
I chuckled at the perplexed expression on his face. “I told her to get some good shots of you. Cynthia will want them for a PR push, and I knew I was going to be too busy to capture them. Consider her your own personal paparazzo.”
Weston’s eyes narrowed playfully. “She’s rather too good at this whole paparazzo thing. What did she do before she moved back to Scotland?”
I smirked. “Bookkeeping, actually. Photography’s just a hobby—even though she’s fantastic at it. We should consider hiring her every time you need a paparazzo in your corner that knows how to capture your best side.”
His jaw dropped in mock indignation. “What are you saying, woman? That I have a bad side?”
I reached up, catching his jaw in my hand, tilting it from left to right, humming as I playfully inspected him. “I mean?—”
“Fibber,” he said, pulling his face free and nipping at my fingers. “Now you’re just talking pish.”
I laughed as he swept me close, our bodies slotting together like they were made to fit, and lowered his head for a kiss.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
I pulled back from Weston’s lips, tilting my head back to see Isla in position, catching the candid moment. She lowered her camera, reviewing the photos. “God, you guys are so cute.” She gave us a little salute. “I’m gonna go see if I can catch some of the caber toss setup. See you later.”
She slipped away into the crowd of committee members and townsfolk carrying food dishes and giftwares to the various stalls. I had to admit I was still in awe over how well this came together—and how fast.
