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“Evie, that’s fantastic! Congratulations! I bet you were amazing.”

“Thanks. Remembering lines was hard, but I had so much fun! The cast party was epic, too.” A naughty laugh launched from her throat as she twirled her necklace around a finger. “How’s your summer been?”

“Good, yeah. Busy.” He nodded, the pleasure of bumping into Evie tangling with the fear of his father’s reprisal. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Rupert pushing up his glasses and chatting enthusiastically with another shopgirl. Wide-eyed and glowing, she held a ceramic pitcher dotted with Highland cows against her chest while mentioning something about fiddle practice. Nick glanced back, subtly sweeping Evie from head to toe. All grown up. SO pretty. He grinned, determined to keep his focus above her breasts. “I did some modeling, went on a few auditions.”

“Awesome!” said Evie. “You know, I heard a rumor…”

Oh god. Nick swallowed. “Which one?”

“About a Star Wars thing? You playing a young Han Solo?”

Relief raced through him. “Oh, that rumor! Yeah, maybe. I read for it, but so did everyone else with a pulse.”

“I can totally see you wielding a light saber.”

Nick laughed. “Yeah, much to Tarquin’s annoyance. He’s a huge fan. He’s worried I’ll ruin it.”

“Brothers, eh?!” Evie smiled. “Well, I think you’d be great. You’ll be back on our screens in no time.”

“Yeah,” Nick fibbed, the less said about the worrisome lack of callbacks the better. He cleared his throat. “We just got back from Greece and Italy. Went snorkeling, sailing.”

Evie’s bemused grin dropped to the packet of beige ovals in Nick’s hand. “And obviously worked up an appetite for our yogurt-covered raisins.”

That’s what these are? His gaze dipped. “Ah, no—sadly. I’m allergic.”

“To yogurt?”

“Raisins.” He returned the Tammy Norrie Poo to the puffin display.

“I’m not a raisin fan either,” said Evie. “When we were peedie, Sam forced me to eat them. I’d cry ’cause they looked like shriveled bugs.”

Nick cringed. “Yes! Like some Bushtucker Trial on I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here.”

Evie burst into laughter. “Ooh, I would pay good money to see you on that!”

“Well, if my career flops, I’ll get my agent to make that happen, but in the meantime I need some last-minute birthday gifts for Gran.”

“It’s her birthday? Aw! What would she fancy? A jumper, a food hamper, jewelry?”

“Jewelry?” Nick widened his eyes, acting as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Uh, do you have necklaces?” He gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. Playing a blinder, kid.

“Yeah! Right over here…” Evie waved him toward a familiar corner. “They’re all handcrafted by Orcadian artists. We have pendants with Viking graffiti, flowers, seabirds. Mum’s always on the lookout for new designers. She’s meeting one right now in Finstown.” She scooped up the necklace he’d discarded earlier and draped it over its hook as a chorus of baaing sheep rose from the far side of the shop.

Nick’s eyes darted. Dad’s calling Rupes? His heart began pummeling beneath his button-down. Fuuck. I’m in for it. Fiddling with his cuffs, he rejoined their conversation, flashing Evie a nonchalant grin. “That one’s pretty.”

“Yeah, it’s special,” said Evie proudly, displaying the pendant against her palm. The single leaf in sage enamel glistened next to a tiny, elegant moonstone. “In Scottish folklore, the Rowan tree and its berries symbolize life, renewal, and protection from harm.”

Nick would need protection from his dad if he didn’t hurry up and haul ass back to the farm. “Yeah, I’ll take it.” He nodded, the thumping in his chest quickening his breath.

“Great!” Evie slid the necklace off the hook. “I’ll giftwrap it for you.”

“That would be magic. Cheers, Evie.”

Zigzagging indecisive shoppers and merchandise-crowded tables, Nick’s shallow inhales and sharp exhales flew fast and tight. What’s with this breathy business? He slipped a hand underneath his tie and rubbed his breastbone, berating himself. Gran’s gift is sorted. Chill, dude.

“…for a while?” The tail end of Evie’s question pricked his ears.

“Uh, I’m sorry?” Nick blinked as they detoured around the edge of the café and a traditional straw-backed Orkney chair. “I didn’t catch that—”