Page 12 of A Scottish Island Summer

‘Well done, Sherlock. Not much gets past you, does it?’ I folded my arms, making the tin foil crackle. ‘But Iona’s co-ordinating this promo.’

His lips twitched with amusement. ‘She doesn’t seem to be doing much at the moment, apart from gossiping with Arran.’

At the mention of his name, Arran stopped fiddling with the lens on his camera and gave a mock salute. ‘It’s yourself! How’s things going?’

‘Aye, not too bad thanks. Keeping the wolf from the door … just.’

As he said the word ‘wolf’, he gave me a brief glance and a small smile.

I could feel myself bristling and pulled my attention away. Talk about full of himself!

‘Can’t Rhona mind the shop?’ asked Iona, looking pained. ‘It’s about time that lass did some real work.’

‘It’s her day off.’ The man sighed. ‘And she has the country dancing regional heats.’

I pointedly stared down at my watch. ‘Look, this is all very fascinating, but I have to⁠—’

‘I’ll be back soon,’ said Iona, edging away from me. ‘Sorry, Ms Freeman.’

My jaw dropped. ‘What? Where are you going?’

‘Arran here will escort you back to The Gorse when you’re finished.’

I stared from Arran’s bent red head to Iona’s anguished expression. The figure leading her away offered me a flirty smile.

I glowered incredulously after Iona and the light-eyed man as they took off through the mist and across the thrum of the main street.

Arran took a few seconds to pause as he packed away his camera equipment. He nodded at my outfit. ‘I think you might want to take off the foil now. We’re done.’ He gave a mock shiver. ‘I hope you’re enjoying our mild oceanic climate. Because of the impact of the Atlantic Ocean and the gulf stream, the weather can feel cold and a bit unpredictable in these parts at this time of year.’

My cheeks flashed with annoyance. We would’ve been finished even sooner, if Wolverine hadn’t interrupted us.

I climbed back into the rear of the van, almost stumbling over the hem of the dress and pulled off the jewellery, before stashing it back into the leather case.

Bubbling anger spread through me.

What sort of Mickey Mouse set up was this? And why did Justine hate me so much, that she’d despatched me to the wilds of Scotland and leave me at the mercy of the most unprofessional people I’d ever encountered?

To think I could’ve been in the Mediterranean sun right now!