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The water’s surface broke again, and I turned in time to see a seal gliding alongside us. Another came up on my other side, and the two rose and fell as I paddled. Amazing to see them so close…but also a little nerve-wracking.
“Is this safe?” I called out to Arnav.
He laughed again. “They’re only dangerous if you’re a fish.”
A third seal swam farther out in the loch, seeming to watch over the others as they dove back and forth among our kayaks. The one closest to me glided lazily along, watching me with bulbous black eyes as though wondering what I was doing in his loch, and why I was riding in that plastic thing.
“Does this make up for missing dolphins?” Duncan called out.
I nodded, grinning like a kid. It more than made up for it.
On my other side, something else caught my eye.
“You’re smiling!” I jabbed my oar toward Spencer. He paddled along, watching the seals with such a look of wonder, he didn’t seem at all the man I’d known so far on the trip. He actually had unseen levels of joy beneath his misery.
“I’ll try to tone it down,” he called back, but didn’t manage to do it.
“Don’t you dare!” So. His weakness was animals. If I’d known, I would have found a puppy somewhere to shove in his face and get him smiling from the very first day.
After a while, the seals found something more amusing to do than trail after kayaks and swam away. We’d nearly paddled to the Isle of Raasay, where green slopes tumbled down to meet the rocky shore, when Arnav instructed us to turn around. The paddle back went easier, since the Atlantic’s waves gently eased us home.
The man from the kayak hire waited at the docks to help steady us as we climbed from our boats. Even just a few hours on the water had made my legs wobble when I climbed out. I couldn’t even think about my noodle arms.
“You got yourself wet there.” He pointed out the huge swaths on my pants where water had crept under the boat skirt and pooled.
“This is nothing. You should have seen me after Loch Ness.”
* * *
Back at the lodge, I took a quick shower before I needed to go down to meet Duncan. It was early yet in Seattle, but I checked my phone for Jill’s daily update on Shatner anyway. I found a photo of my dog stuffed into one of Olivia’s onesies like it was no big thing, with the noteI have been assimilated.
Regret twisted through me, thinking how Jill would be moving in just a few weeks, but I crammed those feelings aside. I would get through this vacation, get back home, and spend as much quality time with my best friend as I could before she became a Californian.
Lincoln, of course, refused to be pushed aside so easily. My eyes narrowed as I read through new emails, my blood growing hotter with every word. He’d asked me to storyboard a website for a brand-new account. The rest of the design team was busy on other assignments, leaving only me available for the work.
I could have powered up the bicycle ride on the Black Isle fueled by my rage at his casual dismissal of my vacation. I was inScotland, and one hundred percentnotavailable.
I zeroed in on one line. He’d closed the email withI know I can count on you, Molly. He never mentioned the promotion. He didn’t need to. It poked and prodded in every word.
Reading through the client’s requests and throwing together a bare-bones storyboard would take up my entire afternoon, and possibly the rest of the weekend. The idea of climbing onto the seaplane with Duncan left me sick inside, but it didn’t compare to the idea ofnotdoing it because of Lincoln. No client expected this kind of quick turnaround on a site, especially on a Friday. The dire urgency had to have come straight from him.
Would I lose the promotion if I refused? I paced a few steps in the tiny bedroom. Surely his request could wait until I got back Monday morning. Head of Design or not, the kind of timeframe he wanted was steep. If I’d been in Seattle, I would have hunkered down for the weekend and created the storyboards without a second thought. But I was half a world away, not just down the hall. Work would still be there Monday. Scotland—and Duncan—would not.
My fingers flew on my phone as I typed in a brief reply.
I am on vacation. I will do this on Monday.
I paused, my index finger hovering over the little icon that showed the email speeding its way through the atmosphere. Lincoln might take it badly, and I wasn’t at all sure what the fallout would be. Even so, I needed to draw a line. I only wanted a few more days. He could take all the rest when I got home.
I tapped the icon, and a tiny fear skittered through me.
Message sent.
Taking slow breaths, I silenced my phone and tucked it into my dry bag. Not that it would do much if things went sideways on the seaplane ride.
Seriously, aseaplane ride? What was I thinking? Sure, Duncan was funny and sweet and had biceps from here to the Outer Hebrides, but the man wasn’t worth dying for. Then again, dying in a tragic seaplane accident would probably cut down on my workload.
I found him in the sitting room, looking as normal as he had ever done—jeans, T-shirt, black fleece jacket. Not that I’d expected to find him in a full morning suit with top hat and tails, but the date, if it was a date, felt significant.
