Page 40 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

I snatched my bag from the passenger seat, locked my car and marched towards the three stone steps that led up to the double door entrance.

It had been a peeling white-painted affair in its former guise as the community centre, but was now almost unrecognisable.

I had no idea whether Blake would be here, but seeing as I’d walked straight in and the place wasn’t locked up, I reckoned he must be lurking around somewhere.

Soft pan-pipe music wafted out.

There was a mannequin in the right corner of the entrance, dressed in an expensive-looking waterproof jacket and thermal hat, and a chrome stand next to it, set out with an assortment of snazzy-looking drinking bottles and T-shirts, emblazoned with the words Rock Solid Ramblings.

Blake Dempster didn’t seem to do discreet.

I jutted out my chin and yanked open the double doors. My blood was boiling in my veins.

The music followed me into a space with a polished wooden floor and a reception desk on the right, which was also wooden but semi-circular.

On the mint-green painted walls hung dramatic black and white photographs of mountain ranges and moody hillsides. I noticed there were also other portrait-style shots on the opposite wall.

When I got closer, I realised they must be of Blake Dempster rock climbing and looking rather pleased with himself. They weren’t close-up shots, rather more arty efforts with him photographed from a distance, gazing over ravines. Then there were a couple others of him, standing miles away from the camera and posing on some wild-looking crevice in tight T-shirt and canvas trousers.

What a bloody bighead!

I started as his voice rang out of what looked like a store room at the back of the place.

‘Will be with you in a minute!’

Seconds later, one of the willowy yummy mummies emerged, clutching a pink waterproof jacket. ‘Pity you didn’t have my size,’ she purred over her shoulder. ‘Never mind. I’ll have to come back next week when you have more stock in.’

She spotted me standing there and delivered a cool smile. She dispensed with the jacket onto the counter as she sashayed towards the double doors.

Heavy footsteps crossed the floor behind her. ‘No problem at all,’ grinned Blake at her, flashing his canines.

‘Hi there. How can I help you?’ His smile dissolved when he realised it was me. ‘Oh.’

I glowered over at him, all chest and beard. ‘Yes. Oh. Providing excellent customer service, I see?’

‘Of course. Service with a smile.’

With a snarl, more like.

Blake assessed me. ‘So how can I help you? Have you thought things through and decided you don’t want to turn the cabins into a funfair after all?’

I shook my head, fighting to appear unruffled, when inside I was simmering. ‘I saw your email to Max.’

Blake pushed both hands into his combat trouser pockets. ‘Yes. And?’

A cross between an incredulous gasp and a laugh shot out of me. ‘That’s all you have to say? You try to undermine me and that’s it?’

He cocked his dark head to one side. ‘I didn’t try to undermine you, Ms Grant.’

I picked up on the formality in his tone.

‘Look, it isn’t anything personal. I was merely pointing out to Max that I don’t consider drowning our cabin guests in ornamental snowmen and the Easter bunny to be a recipe for success. In fact, far from it.’

‘And you think making them feel like they’re trapped in the middle of a Spaghetti Western is?’

Blake’s penetrating dark eyes challenged mine. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I do have some experience of the rock climbing and rambling industry.’

‘Have you? Good grief. You’ve never mentioned that before. You really must stop hiding your light under a bushel, Mr Dempster.’