Page 22 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

I’m sure my mouth was hanging open as I mulled over the idea. Was I losing my mind? It was mad. But then, desperate times do call for desperate measures.

“Bailey?” asked Ezra. “Is everything all right?” He and Joshua were looking at me, bemused.

‘Fine, thank you,’ I said, the cogs in my brain still turning. It could work. Well, it might work. There was still this mysterious scandal thing that Zach had mentioned and which Ezra had speedily brushed off, but we couldn’t just let Zach Stern blow up our lives and plans.

Surely, it was worth a try?

Colour illuminated my cheeks. We had to do something. Zach Stern was already sniffing around the area in search of Ezra and I could be next. I recalled him staring at me in my office and commenting that I seemed familiar. The situation was becoming too risky. A journalist like Zach Stern wasn’t just going to shrug his shoulders and vanish. If I could throw him off Ezra’s scent, then maybe I could be as resourceful when it came to protecting my own identity. I’d already had one man ruin my life and I wasn’t about to let a second one do the same. Zach Stern had to leave. There was too much at stake, for Ezra and for me.

I took my phone back out of my bag and rang Flower Power, telling Amber that I’d be half an hour late coming back. Then I turned to Ezra and gave him what I hoped was my most winning smile. He and Joshua looked unnerved and exchanged puzzled glances.

“I don’t suppose I could change my mind about that cup of tea, could I?”

* * *

Over a cup of tea for me and two cups of tar-like Brazilian coffee for them, together with Mrs Watson’s mouthwatering pecan shortbread, the two men looked at me like I’d sprouted another head.

“But Joshua doesn’t look like me at close quarters,” spluttered Ezra.

“Maybe, but from a few feet away he does,” I said. “I had to do a double-take when I saw him. And from the back you’re identical,” I insisted. “You both have similar hair colour and hairstyles. Joshua’s tall, too, and slim … distinguished.”

Joshua cradled his cup in his hands. “Och, flattery will get you everywhere, lass.”

I smiled.

“But he doesn’t sound like me,” pointed out Ezra. “I’m a classically trained actor, darling. I can do accents. He can’t.”

“But that’s irrelevant. The point is, it will explain how those two women mistook a random stranger for somebody famous as they drove by. They wouldn’t have heard you speak or seen you close up.” Warming to the idea, I took a sip of my tea and carried on. “If Zach Stern persists in his search for you, Ezra, we give him Joshua.”

Joshua’s brow creased in worry at the thought of being handed over to Zach, so I clarified. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.” My enthusiasm ramped up a notch. “Zach Stern will feel like such a prat for following such a flimsy so-called sighting.”

I hoped my crazy suggestion might be infectious, but Ezra and Joshua didn’t appear convinced. They both bore concerned glances over the top of their coffee cups.

“Och, I’m not an actor, Bailey,” blushed Joshua, shuffling around on Ezra’s leather sofa in his grass-stained rugby shirt and combats. “I’m at my happiest when I’m knee-high in my breeches in earth and heather.”

I moved to speak again, in the hope of encouraging Joshua to change his mind, but Ezra clanked down his coffee cup on its saucer. “We’ll think about it,” he said without much enthusiasm. “I do appreciate you trying to help, Bailey. Really, I do.”

I nodded my understanding. “Well, like I say, hopefully some other juicy story will draw Zach Stern’s attention and he’ll forget about trying to locate you.”

Deep down, I doubted that very much, but I felt like I needed to be positive.

* * *

Amber was serving an elderly lady in a crocheted beige bonnet, who was armed with a pot of skimmia japonica, fringed with shiny berries.

I held the shop door open for her and she nodded her head, clamped her hat down tighter and disappeared up the pavement.

A sudden burst of rain made its presence felt on the windows, the raindrops chasing each other down the panes.

“Everything been ok?” I asked, shrugging off my quilted coat and hanging it up on a peg in the corner. “Sorry I was a bit longer than I expected to be.”

“No worries,” replied Amber, clattering some spare change in the till. “It’s been a bit busier than we thought, but nothing we couldn’t cope with. We’ve taken a few more orders for Christmas wreaths.”

“Good. Thank you, girls. I appreciate it.”

Amber flicked me a curious look from out of her hazel eyes, winged today with green eyeliner. “Everything ok?”

I thought again about Ezra’s house, with its regal pillars and shiny, pearly staircase.