Page 74 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘You will be careful tomorrow?’ I called. My concern raced out of my mouth and towards him in the bitter December night.

His white teeth shone back at me in the dark. ‘Promise.’

Then he melted away under the street lights.

* * *

I woke up the next morning with Blake nudging at my thoughts.

I lay there, spreadeagled under my duvet. It was a good thing we hadn’t kissed, I assured myself. Totally the most sensible outcome. Keep things on professional, friendly terms. Fine to have a flirt and lots of verbal banter. No problem with letting the old imagination fire up once in a while. There would be no harm done, by doing that.

But anything else was too risky. Yep. It was good nothing had happened.

I threw my legs out of the bed and sat there for a moment. So, if it was for the best in the long run, why did I keep imagining what Blake’s lips tasted like?

* * *

After showering and getting ready for work, I snatched some tea and toast and gathered together my bag and phone. I had already decided to drop by Christmas Crackers before heading to Rowan Moore House and the cabins.

The sky was a deep milky white.

As I drove to the shops, my eyes strayed to the mountain range and to the imposing, sharp peak of Ben Linn.

Blake and his honeymooning couple had set off two hours ago on their trek. They would no doubt be traversing the north face of the mountain by now.

Oh, he would be fine. He was a very experienced climber and was no idiot. He knew what he was doing.

Nonetheless, I found myself peering again through my car windscreen at the sky and willing the weather to stay calm.

Mum was busy serving a couple of customers, while Orla was on the phone, discussing the return of some faulty fairy lights to the manufacturers.

‘Hi Mum. How’s it going?’

‘Pretty hectic, lovey.’

I dumped my bag down behind the counter and slid off my coat.

‘Right then. Let me lend a hand.’

I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had looked so relieved.

It was good I was able to distract myself from thinking about Blake, by both helping Mum and Orla to serve customers at Christmas Crackers and then attending a planning meeting with Max and Stephanie when I arrived at Rowan Moore House later that morning.

First on the agenda, was an update on the naming competition for the cabins.

I had checked the inbox for entries and was delighted by the number we had received so far: almost five hundred and we still had a few days to go until the closing date of Christmas Eve.

I referred to my notes, which I’d taken ahead of the meeting so I could give Max and Stephanie a potted update. ‘We have received name suggestions based on everything from species of trees to flowers, breeds of birds and someone even suggested naming the cabins after four famous Scottish architects.’

I jabbed my pen at my notebook page. ‘And the entries have been submitted from far and wide too.’ It wasn’t just Craig Brae locals who had been entering the competition. We had received entries from as far away as Wick, so word had been getting around.

Max considered this. ‘That’s what we want. Excellent!’

Stephanie beamed across the dining room table at me.

‘It is wonderful and so gratifying that we have received so many entries already,’ enthused Max. He asked me to keep an eye on how the entries progressed over the next few days and then moved onto the next agenda topic of what activities we could put on during the spring and summer months for the future cabin guests.

‘I was going to suggest we could organise an Easter egg hunt in the woods, name the Easter bunny, perhaps organise a plastic duck race on the shore of Loch Strathe?’