“The Highland Sausage Company has cleared out,” Aiden called, directing a group of volunteers across the street. “You lot start breaking down that tent.”
I couldn’t believe I wasthislate. When I woke up this morning, I’d intended to head straight out first thing, after just one quick stop at the office to grab some paperwork. But it was just one thing after another once I got to my desk, and by the time I’d actually gotten on the road, I knew I’d be lucky to make it in time for the kilted dash. Having a produce truck overturn on the motorway was the last thing I’d expected. If I’d known it would turn out that way, I would have gotten in my damn helicopter.
“There you are!” Weston called as I approached the green. He was standing there with Alistair, foreheads sun-touched, bothof them still wearing their kilts. Their knees were grass-stained, and I could tell they’d had a good time today.
Bitterness crawled up my spine. I never wanted to see another potato for as long as I lived.
Weston clapped me on the shoulder as I reached them. “Here just in time to help with cleanup.”
“Heard you got waylaid by some produce,” Alistair said.
I rolled my eyes. “What a nightmare.”
“This is what happens when you don’t eat your veggies,” he joked. Behind his smile, I could tell he looked a little weary, a little wrung. That was only to be expected, after the trial. I suspected it had taken a lot of mental energy for him to bring Kenna up for the weekend at this point, when the case was drawing to a close. The looming question of the verdict would have been enough to send me into a spiral for the weekend, but Alistair was good at holding it together for his daughter. I could only hope I’d do half as well as a father.
But thinking of fatherhood made me think of my baby’s mother. What I really wanted to do first was locate Isla and wrap my arms around her. “Either of you seen Isla?”
Weston lifted his hand, pointing along the high street. “She’s been assigned to decoration removal.”
I must have walked right past her.
“After you say hi, Tam needs help getting all the logs from the caber toss back on Callum’s truck. You can give us a hand with that.”
I nodded. “See you in a few.” I turned around and hurried back down the street. I spotted Isla folding a banner. Her eyes widened as I dashed toward her.
“You came?”
“Of course I came. I told you I’d be here.”
Her eyebrow rose. “Yes, hours ago. Sort of thought you might have turned around when you realized how late it had gotten.” She looked unimpressed. “I hope you got a basket of produce for your troubles.”
I huffed, shaking my head. “How do you turn over an entire truck doing a lane change? Bloody useless driver.”
Concern flickered across her face. “There were no major injuries, right? That’s what Jo said.”
“Jo’s correct, as usual. Minor injuries only. The driver will be fine. His reputation on the other hand?—”
“—is mashed?”
The corner of my mouth quirked. “I’ve missed your truly terrible puns.” I caught her face between my hands and pecked her on the lips. Once. Twice. Three times. “I’ve just been nabbed to help move the cabers, but I wanted to say hello before I started.”
Isla pulled back, poking me in the chest to stop me from kissing her again. “Better get to work before Jo sees you. Don’t think you’re not on her shit list.”
I smirked. “As long as I’m not on yours.”
She hummed, mumbling something I couldn’t quite decipher as I hurried off again to make the most of my time helping Weston and Alistair.
“Sandwich?” Isla asked me as she turned into the kitchen at the inn. “I bought some really nice cheese and bread from one of the vendors at the festival.”
“Please,” I said, following after her. I collapsed into a chair at the table, sighing gratefully. I was starving and exhausted. Tear down and cleanup had taken far longer than I’d anticipated, but I hadn’t felt right bowing out early considering how late I’d been. Now I had a tension headache brewing behind my eyes.
“Have you even eaten today?” Isla asked, taking ingredients out of the fridge. Cheese and tomatoes and ham and lettuce and a cucumber.
“I threw back a coffee at the office,” I grunted, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I couldn’t wait to eat and then climb into bed with her.
“That’s not food,” she pointed out, pulling two slices of bread from a bag and laying them on a cutting board.
“I meant to stop somewhere on the way but never got around to it before the accident. By the time the traffic cleared, I just decided to power through straight to Braeburn.” I reclined in my chair, releasing a breath that buzzed my lips. “If I’d known what a disaster the commute would be, I would have just jumped in my helicopter.”
