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“We’d all be grateful for it. Miserable people.” Hilda clamped her lips together. “Right, enough about that. On you go. I’m going to wrangle these beasties into their best behavior to greet the guests. Don’t hang your hat on your parents’ opinions, Munroe. You’re better than that.”
I’d already come to that conclusion earlier that day, but it was nice to hear it, nonetheless. A clatter of dishes and hurried voices caught my attention, and I peeked my head into the open doorway of the kitchen. To the untrained eye, the kitchen might seem chaotic, but very quickly I picked up the rhythm. There were two other chefs prepping ingredients, Catriona was putting a tray of scones into a cooling rack, and servers were breezing through carrying trays of plates.
“Oh. My. God.” At Lia’s words, the whole kitchen stopped and turned to see what she was looking at.
It was me, apparently.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my shyness kicking in. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to wish you good luck.”
“You’re in a kilt.” Lia said the words faintly as she drifted toward me like she was drugged, her eyes fixated on my waist. I’m not going to lie, I was grateful for my sporran because a dead man would respond to the way she was staring at me right now.
“Aye, lassie. That’s the traditional dress of a Scotsman,” I said, deepening my brogue, as I realized she hadn’t seen me in my kilt before.
“I had no idea,” Lia whispered, reaching out to press a hand against my chest. “I truly had no idea it would affect me like this.”
“And I’m deeply interested in hearing more about what it does to you, darling,” I said.
“Do we have time?” Lia whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the bustling kitchen, and I threw my head back and laughed.
“No,no,we do not. Save those dirty thoughts for later. I’ll keep the kilt on.”
“Oh, thank God,” Lia breathed. I brushed a soft kiss over her lips, conscious of the other people in the room.
“Good luck tonight. Oh, I’m not bringing the investors. We’re meeting tomorrow.”
“Oh good, phew. Then you can just relax and have fun.” A relieved look crossed Lia’s face as she stepped back.
“Not quite. My parents are here.”
“Right.” Lia took a deep breath. She looked so pretty, a soft sheen on her face from the heat of the kitchen, her riotous hair braided neatly back. “That’s good. I like having someone out there to prove myself to. I’ll cook like a demon.”
“No,” I said, raising a hand to stop Lia before the demands of the kitchen drew her back in. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them, Lia. They’re not worth it.”
“I know.” Lia’s grin was lightning fast and just a bit wicked. “But I like a challenge.”
If anyone was up for tackling the Ice Queen, it was my beautiful Kitchen Witch. I wondered if Lia would use any spells tonight or if it would all be normal cooking. We’d spoken of it, just a bit, and she’d told me how she needed more time with her spells book to read about what her ancestors used to do. The book itself seemed an interesting mix between actual recipes, healing tonics, and spell work. She was lucky to have it, and my nerdy heart deeply wanted to spend a day devouring the pages and learning more about magick. But, this was for her, and I wanted to wait until she felt more comfortable with sharing before I asked if I could also read the book.
“Munroe.”
Steeling myself, I pasted a smile on my face as I turned toward my parents. Resignation turned to delight. “Robyn?”
“It’s good to see you,” Robyn said, standing at my parents’ side. A childhood friend, it had been ages since I’d last seen her. She’d grown into a slim woman, with a short cap of brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, and was dressed in fitted black pants and a tailored suitcoat. Slinky necklaces glimmered at her neck, and a sparkle of diamonds winked at her ears. She looked chic, effortlessly elegant, and worlds away from the girl I used to climb trees with. We hugged.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised to see her so far from Edinburgh.
“Your parents invited me,” Robyn said, an odd look darting through her eyes before she turned to my beaming mother.
“Yes, well, we felt it was time to introduce you to more suitable prospects,” Mum said, sliding her arm through Robyn’s and trailing her toward the entrance. Shock filled me, and I turned to my father.
“Surely you’re having a laugh? I told you that I was dating Lia.”
“Dating isn’t marriage, is it? You’re still free to look around.” Dad shrugged and straightened the lapels of his coat. “Did you know that Tommaso Bianchi is here? Surprising, really. Given the nature of the restaurant and all.”
Tommaso Bianchi was an Italian business magnate who spent part of his time in Scotland every year. He had interests in everything from whisky to wine, and loved taking on new projects as much as he did a new girlfriend.
“Given the nature of the…” I shook my head as I followed my father to the opened doors of the restaurant. “First of all, you haven’t even eaten here yet. And, second, this is a restaurant in acastle. With a celebrated chef running it. Surely even you can’t turn up your nose at this.”
“You’re always so fussy, Munroe. Honestly, I don’t know what the big deal is. We came to the opening, didn’t we? You should be happy we’re even here.” With that, my father crossed the front lounge to where my mother and Robyn stood by the bar.
