Page 43 of A Scottish Island Summer

Chapter Ten

Logan awarded me with a cheerful grin as I yanked open his truck passenger door the next morning. ‘Slept well?’

After Logan and I rescued the dolphin yesterday morning and the amount of walking we’d done around the castle grounds, I was still wrestling with weariness. ‘I crashed out,’ I confessed, settling myself in.

‘Not surprised after your heroics,’ he teased. ‘Now, before we go and hit the nature trail at Bayfield Walk, are you OK if I check on my shop first?’

‘Yes. Of course. Everything OK?’

‘I just got a notification on my phone that someone was trying to break in.’

My curiosity was piqued about seeing Rock God and what it was like. And I realised I didn’t like the thought of Logan going to the shop alone, even though it was clear he was more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d been there for me and Flipper. ‘Crikey. Are you joking?’

‘Nope.’

A sudden burst of a guttural, stray gull somewhere outside my passenger window made me start. ‘Come on then. Let’s go. You might need backup.’

I could see Logan trying to bury an amused smile. ‘OK, Bat Girl.’

‘Have you alerted the police?’ I asked, as we made our way along the sleepy Portree streets towards his shop.

Logan’s peppered jaw was pensive beside me as he concentrated on the road. He looked sexily dishevelled, as though he’d just fallen out of bed. Don’t go there. Darcie.

‘No. Not yet.’

‘Don’t you think you should? If someone’s trying to break into your business⁠—’

‘Well, I think they are. At least it looked like that on the CCTV.’

Logan flipped me a side eye. The morning light through the windscreen was like whipped cream with splashes of raspberry, swallowing up the remnants of the dark. It was sparking off the polished shop windows showcasing Easter displays of daffodils, chocolate eggs and cuddly bunnies.

‘My CCTV isn’t great quality at the best of times, but I have a movement sensor and that went off.’

I performed another big yawn and clamped one hand over my mouth. ‘Sorry. It could’ve been a cat,’ I suggested.

Logan’s brows bunched together. ‘It looked like it had a pretty big shadow for a cat.’

I shrugged. From what Logan was telling me, it still sounded like this mercy dash up to Rock God was going to be a complete waste of time.

The faint smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from somewhere intermingled with the sound of clanking milk bottles and crates.

I gave my face a ferocious rub again, trying and failing to wake myself up.

The centre of Portree was so tranquil at this time of day, a peaceful network of streetlamps craning their necks and silent pavements. The sky was promising another sun-drenched spring day. I recalled the gleaming sunshine lighting up the scenery yesterday. My heart gave an odd little skip.

Rock God was situated up the next lane, sandwiched between a candle shop and a newsagent.

Logan parked up outside and we both jumped out.

The front of Rock God consisted of a black granite effect, with white windowsills and one, large panoramic window. Displayed in it were an assortment of glittery rocks, crystals and minerals. They were set out on silver painted shelves, exhibiting everything from polished birthstones and crystalline structures to copper-wire-wrapped crystal pendants, shiny toffee and caramel striped agates, and a polished tiger’s eye stone.

The discreet spotlights studding the ceiling of the window made the calcite paperweights glow.

I spun round to Logan. ‘You’ve been hiding your light well and truly under a bushel, Mr Burns.’

‘What do you mean?’

I threw one impressed hand towards the glowing window display. It seemed to warm the surrounding early morning pavement. ‘I didn’t know you stocked all this.’