Page 49 of Scotlander

She flickered jazz hands on either side of her head. ‘Entertainment news producer. And don’t worry. It’s far less glamorous than it sounds.’ She gave him a quick explanation about the show she worked on, then pointed at the phone lodged in her cleavage. ‘Who knew interviewing celebs would be as demanding as working at the Pentagon?’

‘Wait a minute.’ He stopped just short of the main gate to the barn. ‘You’re an entertainment reporter and you haven’t seen Outlander?’

He practically saw her toes curling in her shoes. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be doing chores or something?’

Yeah. They were. Rather than push, he clapped his hands together, gave them a swift rub, then said, ‘Absolutely right, m’lady. The cows aren’t going to get themselves in on their own.’ Finn walked them through the empty cattle barn to reach the rear gateway.

To be fair to Duncan, a man he was traditionally reluctant to credit with attention to detail, the barn looked exactly the way Finn would’ve sorted it had he been here this morning. There was a thick bed of fresh straw in the main pen. All the mother and calf ‘nurseries’ had been cleared out, standing ready for fresh occupants, as were tidy stacks of straw and hay, both of which were close to hand. The water troughs were scrubbed and refilled and, from the slight tang in the air, charged with a dollop of apple cider vinegar – one of the natural tonics Finn liked to give the cows for their wellbeing. The mineral licks were hanging from the gates where Finn liked them and the back scratchers had even been cleaned.

He silently acquiesced that, whatever he might think of Duncan as a stepfather, being idle wasn’t a label that would ever stick.

Making a mental note to be less defensive next time they spoke, he pointed out to the twenty-acre field away up on the hilltop where the dozen expectant mums were soaking up some of the late morning sun. ‘There they are. The ladies.’

‘Oh my gosh!’ Willa clapped her hands in delight. ‘They’re stripey! Are those Oreo cows?’

He snorted. ‘They’re Belted Galloways.’

‘Is that what they’re called here?’

‘Well, I don’t think they were named after the biscuits.’

Willa good-naturedly rolled her eyes. ‘To-may-toe. To-mah-toe. You say Belted Galloway, I say Oreo.’

‘Does that mean we’re calling the whole thing off?’

She scoffed. ‘Nice try, hubby. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’

For the first time since this whole thing had begun, he didn’t want to. Were they complete opposites? Absolutely. But that kiss they’d shared – those few perfect moments that had sealed their pretend marriage – had felt like a real connection. Spoke to something humming beneath their stabs at witty bantz. Something better than lobbing one-liners at each other. It was like she got him without him having to go all touchy feely and explain why he was the way he was.

He nodded towards the hill speckled with black and white cows. ‘Let’s see if you can figure out how to get the ladies in.’

She pressed her lips forward, thinking, then asked, ‘Our job is to get them from all the way over there to here where they will have baby cows?’

He put out a fist for her to bump. ‘Well done. You’re practically a farmer now.’

She stared at him for a minute then out at the cows again.

‘Don’t worry if you can’t figure it out. My students never do.’

‘Students?’

‘I teach at a nearby agricultural college. Your equivalent of high school.’

From the look on her face, he may as well have told her he worked for the sewage department, and just like that he was back to disliking her. His work at the ag college meant the world to him. It had lifted him up and out of the emotional shitstorm he’d been battling after his mum had passed. Helping the scores of teenagers who came to the school full to the gunnels with attitude and shaping them into young adults capable of proper animal husbandry was rewarding.

When she asked what he taught he pointed at the cows. ‘Livestock handling. Animal care.’ What was it with this girl? One minute she seemed sharp as a tack, properly insightful, and the next she was like a bubble-brained Barbie.

‘But . . .’ Her gaze moved out to the sprawl of farm beyond the barns. ‘If you work there, does that mean . . . ?’

He filled in the blanks for her. ‘It means I don’t work here. It’s the school holidays, though, so, I’m not bunking off either.’

She pulled a face. ‘I don’t get it. If you don’t like Outlander and you don’t work here, what are you even doing here?’

It was a good question. One he asked himself regularly.

‘Orla asked,’ he said without elaborating. She didn’t need to know he’d come to put a stop to all this nonsense. Having failed at the first hurdle, he was on a not-so-magical voyage of discovery, finding out just how many more problems Orla had kept from him. ‘Right. Let’s hear your grand plan about how to get the ladies in.’

Willa stared at him, then gave a girlie twist back and forth, curling a strand of hair round her finger. ‘A glass of milk and some Oreo cookies?’