Page 43 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

Each cabin having its own name seemed even more of a good idea, now they were beginning to take shape and develop their own unique character. Hopefully, the “Name the Cabins” competition I had thought of would throw up some fantastic suggestions. The winner with the best and most original entry would win a free weekend stay for a family of four. What if we could persuade one or two of the local businesses to contribute towards a prize as well? I thought of Mrs Crill and the baking decadence she was famous for in Craig Brae. In the last few years, she had sold a number of Christmas hampers that she had made up herself. What if I could persuade her to part with one of those and contribute it as a gift in the competition? It would be a lovely little bit of extra publicity for her and the bakery.

I meandered up and down in front of the cabins, mulling it over. I was certain Stephanie and Max would think this competition suggestion would prove to be a popular one.

My thoughts insisted on returning to Blake and his comments, however.

Oh God. Had I made an awful mistake accepting this job after all? I mean, I was enjoying it so much. I was able to use my interior design skills and let my imagination and creativity run wild, but at what expense? At the expense of having to work with Craig Brae’s Grumpy McGrumpface?

How could I do my job properly when he persisted in sticking that dark beard of his into everything? Trying to undermine me? Making sarcastic asides?

I stared across at the cabins, their doors open and the smell of freshly applied paint wafting out.

No. Sod it. If he thought he could intimidate me and prevent me from doing what I set out do, then Blake Dempster didn’t know me at all.

Chapter Twelve

‘You ok, Lottie? You look like someone’s held you at gunpoint and stolen your lunch money.’

I twisted round to see John, one of the decorators, standing on the porch of the second cabin.

‘I’m fine,’ I forced. ‘Just having to deal with cretins who think they’re superior to everyone else.’ I sighed. ‘I don’t know why I’m so surprised.’

John reached into a bucket down by his feet and plucked a smaller, clean paintbrush out of it. ‘Don’t sweat it. The more I get to know some folks, the more I love my dog.’

I laughed. ‘I think you’re onto something there.’ I gestured to the cabins. ‘You guys are doing such an amazing job. I really appreciate it.’

‘No worries. Oh, here he comes. It’s Scotland’s answer to Bear Grylls. How’s it going, Blake?’

Oh no. You have to be kidding me. What the hell was he doing up here? Didn’t he have any more woolly hats and puffer jackets to sell? Or perhaps there was some dangerous precipice he could bugger off and climb?

I closed my eyes for a few seconds. Great. I did not need more of him right now. I rearranged my face into an expression which I hoped was one of professional indifference and spun around.

Blake was striding up. He’d changed clothes and was now wearing a pale-blue shirt, dark trousers and a navy tie. The shirt strained across his muscles. I jerked my attention away.

‘Well, well. It’s a real hive of activity around here,’ he murmured, his dark eyes piercing me. ‘Hello again.’

I managed a stiff nod. ‘Hello.’

‘So, what are you doing up here, Dempster? Come to see what real work looks like?’

‘Don’t kid yourself. I’ve got a 5am sunrise walk tomorrow with half a dozen wealthy Americans.’

‘That’s not work,’ teased John. ‘That’s a hobby.’

I observed their banter and my anger flashed again. I jutted out my chin. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but are you up here for a meeting? Or are you planning on sending any more of your two-page emails? Perhaps you’ve managed to dash another one off to Max on the way here?’

Blake turned to me and flexed one brow. ‘I’ve got a catch-up with Max about the hiking services I’m going to be providing to the cabin guests.’ He gave me a measured look and then turned to John. ‘So, what do you think of all of this?’

‘All what?’

Blake pointed to the cabins. ‘These being turned into Scotland’s version of Disney Land.’

Here we go again. Stay calm, Lottie. Don’t allow him to rile you. That’s what he wants.

I arranged my mouth into a frosty smile. ‘It’s called style, Mr Dempster. I’m not sure you’re familiar with the concept.’

John struggled to hide a grin.

I paused and then gave John a megawatt smile. ‘Do you like Christmas, John?’