Page 27 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

His gaze lingered on me. ‘I’m not sure. No. There must be some mistake.’

I refocused. ‘Sorry?’

He rooted around inside his jeans pocket and produced a slip of paper and read from it. ‘Can you tell me where I can find Lottie Grant?’

I blinked across at him from behind the counter. ‘That’s me.’

His dark arched brows fenced. ‘You?’

‘Yes.’

He turned around and drank in the shop. ‘No. There must be some mistake. Max said you ran a successful business.’

At first I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly. I could feel my indignation rising. Of all the bloody cheek! Hang on. Who was this man? I jutted out my chin at him. ‘It is successful.’ Or at least it was.

He folded his muscular arms. ‘I thought Max said you ran a…’ He squinted down at the piece of paper in his hand and muttered something about Max’s illegible handwriting. ‘Good grief. It looks like he wrote this in a hurry.’ He drew the piece of paper closer. ‘It says here you run a freestyle shop?’ His voice was deep and rumbly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, confused. ‘Freestyle? No, this is a Christmas shop.’

He stared around himself with growing horror. ‘I can see that.’ He offered a withering look to my singing Rudolph on the shelf behind him. ‘I expected skateboards and sporting gear. At least that’s what I thought it said here.’

‘Can I see Max’s note please?’

The bearded man frowned at me. After considering this request, he reluctantly handed me the note.

I examined Max’s manic scrawl. ‘Ah. It says festive, not freestyle. It’s the way he’s squashed the letters together.’

I handed the note back to him.

‘Oh. Right.’ He glowered at the rows of assorted stars, destined for the top of Craig Brae Christmas trees, which were spinning and dangling from a nearby shelf. ‘It’s like someone emptied half a ton of glitter in here.’

‘Well, the clue is in the name,’ I said through a forced smile. ‘Christmas Crackers.’

His dark eyes swam over everything. ‘I would never have guessed.’

I clenched my jaw, riled by his off-hand attitude. What was this rude man doing, carrying a note from Max? They must know each other. But what did he want? He hadn’t introduced himself; he was too busy delivering frosty looks at the festive merchandise. ‘Sorry. Who are you?’

Our chilly conversation was interrupted by my mobile jumping to attention under the counter. It was Stephanie Styles.

‘Excuse me a second,’ I said, reaching for my mobile. The cross bearded face didn’t respond.

‘So sorry to bother you, Lottie,’ she breathed. ‘Max meant to tell you earlier, but he’s juggling so many things at the moment.’

‘Tell me what, sorry?’ I asked, aiming daggers at Beardy in the woolly hat. He had meandered over to where we stocked some felt festive mobile phone covers. While Stephanie chatted to me, he picked one up and proceeded to turn it upside down and around, arched his brows and then shoved it back into the box.

‘One of our new employees was popping into the high street at lunchtime today and Max left him a note and suggested he drop in and introduce himself.’ Stephanie let out a little tinkle of laughter. ‘We thought it would be good for the newbie members of the team to meet one another. After all, you will be working together.’

A sudden jolt of apprehension made me widen my eyes at the man, who was now eyeing the holly wreaths with contempt. I turned my back to him. No. Not him. Him? ‘A new employee?’ I repeated.

‘Yes. Max said he was in a real hurry and was dashing from one meeting to another when Blake was about to have a chat with him, so he left him a scribbled note about where to find you. Max couldn’t remember if he gave him all the details about you and the shop.’

My feeling of trepidation ramped up. My attention shifted to Beardy again. I dropped my voice. ‘This new employee,’ I faltered. ‘What’s his name, did you say?’

‘Blake. Blake Dempster.’

‘Could you hang on a second please, Stephanie?’

‘Sure.’