Page 102 of Scotlander

‘Grand gestures are meant to be ridiculous.’

He looked over his shoulder. The crowd had grown. Should he just go for it?

‘Go on then.’ She glanced behind her. The flight crew were disembarking now. ‘I’ve got to decide whether or not to go through immigration or figure out a way to smash through this glass wall.’

‘But . . .’ Finn threw another look back at his fellow passengers. ‘I’d planned to do it in LA where that sort of thing is more normal.’

She feigned shock. ‘Finlay Jamieson. Are you going to deny me my grand gesture just because it’s in the wrong country?’

‘No. But . . . give me a moment, alright?’ He turned his back to her, gave the crowd behind him a quick nod, then pressed ‘Play’.

Chapter Forty-Two

Willa had never wanted to climb up and over a glass wall more than she did at this moment. If there hadn’t been actual airport police, she just might have.

Finn had pulled off a miracle.

The crowd she’d thought had just been curious fellow passengers had shape-shifted into a flash mob of kilted and tartan-clothed travellers doing the world’s most awkward dad dance to ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’.

When she wasn’t laughing she was crying, but mostly she was doing both right up until she began slapping her hands against the glass screaming, ‘Let me in!’ Finally, an airport official took pity on her and escorted her through the security barriers so that a sweaty, red-faced Finn could pick her up in his arms and kiss her.

Every particle in her body was vibrating with happiness. This was where she belonged. In his arms. Her lips pressed to his. Smelling his sweet hay and tangy pine scent. This wonderful, brave man loved her. Not sensible her. Or helpful her. Or the Willa who’d interviewed countless famous people. He loved this version. The messy, complicated, emotionally bruised woman who’d rocked up to his farm a handful of weeks ago intent on being miserable. Or, if not miserable, proactively belligerent.

She’d been completely wrong about him having a teensy tiny emotional toolbox. It was huge. But he’d only allowed himself access to the top tray, not realising you could open it up and that a thousand new layers of possibility were waiting for him to use.

The long car ride home wasn’t silent for a moment. They talked about everything. Hopes, dreams, their families. Willa’s family because, as Finn pointed out, she’d never spoken about them much. She was honest. Said she wasn’t particularly close to them, but she could see things improving as time went by.

‘What? Now that you’re several thousand miles away?’ He was smiling, but she could hear the concern in his voice. Family was important to him. And it was one of the reasons she loved him. It was important to her too, and seeing him break free of his own self-imposed family-history shackles had been an inspiration to her to do the same.

‘There are planes that go to Oregon all the time,’ she said. ‘I have a hunch my parents will want to meet this stranger from a strange land who’s captured their daughter’s heart.’

‘And your brothers? I won’t have to fist fight them or anything, will I?’

She grinned and while shaking her head no said, ‘Only a little.’

‘Eh, well. That’s fine, then.’

Later, when they pulled up to the farm, a brand new set of feelings surfaced.

Finn must’ve seen her mood shift because he turned to her and apologetically flicked his thumb towards the drizzle outside. ‘I’m afraid the days of bagpipes and tatties in the courtyard are over for the season.’

It was freezing. And wet and muddy and cold, but because she was young and in love with someone who had stepped so far away from his comfort zone to win her heart, she didn’t care. She pressed her hand against her chest as if taking a solemn pledge. ‘I am prepared to alter my wardrobe to suit the task.’

Finn barked a laugh and pointed at the muddy barnyard. ‘I wouldnae be getting anything beyond a set of waterproof breeks.’

‘Breeks?’

‘Like trouse, but less stylish.’

‘Trouse?’

‘And so it begins.’ Finn put on a grave, sonorous voice. ‘Two young lovers divided by the same language.’

‘Ha ha,’ she intoned through a stupidly happy grin. ‘We could always give up talking and stay in bed until spring? Two birds, one stone?’

He pulled her in for a long, slow kiss. ‘That would be absolutely brilliant if there weren’t cows to feed and pigs to muck out and—’

‘Farm Delights!’