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She eyed them suspiciously. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘I know the feeling’?”

Ally and Vivi laughed, trading guilty, conspiratorial looks.

“Guys, not funny.” Jenn’s gaze flicked between them. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, Jenn. Didn’t mean to upset you,” Ally said, voice softer. “I think it’s brilliant you’re staying. The island needs you. We need you.”

Her breath caught, just for a moment, before she smoothed her face. Something unsaid hung in the air.

Jenn looked to Vivi, who nodded.

“See? You need to stay in Hellisay. The Clan Chief has spoken!” Vivi declared.

Tension broke with laughter.

Chapter 42

No matter how many times he flew this route, the sight of Hellisay from the air always stirred something deep in Ruairidh’s chest. The darker parts of the Minch shimmered like black glass, sliced through by streaks of brilliant turquoise shallows. Then came the island itself—three peaks rising above scallops of machair, fringed with shell-white beaches. His island. His home.

“Coming up on Tràigh Mhòr,” Enrique’s voice crackled through the headset. “All clear for landing.”

“Copy that,” Ruairidh said, steadying the controls. It was the kind of perfect day that made beach landings feel almost easy. Almost.

Most people thought it was madness—an airport run by tides. But that was the magic. You couldn’t separate Hellisay from its wild edges, not really. Even the passengers sensed it. When he glanced back, he saw that same mixture of awe and disbelief: is it really going to land?

The wheels kissed the sand with a satisfying hiss, seawater spraying up around them. A ripple of relieved laughter and applause filled the cabin. Ruairidh grinned despite himself. He never got tired of that sound.

Beside him, Enrique gave a slow, satisfied nod. “Smooth. As always.”

“You’re welcome,” Ruairidh teased.

Enrique leaned back, stretching. “Mmm. Speaking of smooth… I hope there’s chocolate cake waiting. Maybe with that runny cream I like.”

Ruairidh snorted. “You think about cake more than you think about flying.”

“Wrong,” Enrique said. “I think about cake while I’m flying. Multitasking.”

And just like that, Ruairidh was back there—months ago—walking into the café and seeing her for the first time.

* * *

As he stepped into the café, he was hit by the warm, rich scent of coffee and cheese toasties. His eyes darted straight to the cake display—and he wasn’t disappointed. There it was: a magnificent chocolate cake, slathered with frosting and topped with shards of white, milk, and dark chocolate.

“Ohhh… isn’t she lovely,” Enrique purred at his shoulder. “Heaven-sent.”

Ruairidh nodded, still eyeing the cake. “Hope they’ve got pouring cream to go with her.”

“Pouring cream?” Enrique blinked. “But she’s already so beautiful and milky with that fair skin—”

“What?” Ruairidh frowned, looking at him. “I’m talking about the cake.”

Enrique’s laughter exploded so suddenly that half the café turned to stare. He bent double, wheezing. “Not the cake… her!”

Ruairidh turned—and froze.

There she was. Standing behind the counter, right next to the chocolate cake. The most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Jenn.