Grump in a Kilt E-Book

Kait Nolan

• Herausgeber: Take The Leap Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A grump who lost his family...

After a devastating loss, Malcolm Niall has spent the past twenty years hiding from the world. As manager of a Highland estate, he's built a life of purpose, caring for the land and animals. And for the past six months, his peace has been utterly destroyed by a sexy Southern whirlwind who's never met a stranger. Worse, they have to work together daily.

His sunshiny nemesis who's starting a new life

Nothing about Charlotte Vasquez's life has been traditional. She never married, abandoned her corporate job to raise the son of her late best friend, and now she's followed that grown-up son to Scotland for a chance at something new. While she's enjoying the challenge, she could do without the attitude from the broody Scot next door.

Join forces to protect a runaway

Malcolm and Charlotte clash over absolutely everything on the renovation project they're tasked to lead. If there's a healthy amount of heat beneath the frustration, neither is willing to admit it. But when they discover a runaway hiding in one of the cottages, they find common purpose at last. Risks are taken and hearts expand as Malcolm and Charlotte pull out all the stops to protect Gavin from the abusive father who'd tear their unconventional family apart.

Leseprobe

Grump in a Kilt

A Grumpy Soft for Sunshine Small Town Scottish Romance

Kilted Hearts

Book Two

Kait Nolan

Take The Leap Publishing

Copyright © 2023 by Kait Nolan

Cover Design by Najla Qamber

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Contents

Invite

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Other Books By Kait Nolan

About Kait

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One

On a good day, Malcolm Niall hated parties.

And people.

And peopling.

Today was about as far from a good day as it was possible to get.

How could anybody expect him to celebrate anything on The Anniversary? Not that anyone here was aware of the significance of the date. The one person who knew had willfully disappeared without a trace. Malcolm didn’t allow himself to think about young Afton Lennox. She was just another person he’d failed. The former Baroness of Lochmara had escaped from the prospect of an arranged marriage by gambling away her entire estate and title to an American. Raleigh Beaumont.

No one had expected Raleigh to stick once he found out about the centuries-old marriage pact that meant he had to marry Kyla MacKean, heiress to the neighboring estate of Ardinmuir, or lose Lochmara entirely. Instead, the two had eloped and, shockingly, actually fallen for each other. Malcolm had known Kyla since she was a wee girl, as he did her brother, Connor, who’d been meant to wed Afton. Kyla and Raleigh did actually seem to suit each other, which was one of the few silver linings to the chaos of the past months.

She was currently distracting her husband from the surprise birthday party being set up here on the grounds.

Malcolm had wanted to dislike the Yank on principle, but he was forced to admit—at least to himself—that his new boss was not at all what he’d expected. The man was a hard worker and had a heart the size of his native Texas, maybe because he’d grown up as part of a ranching family. He could’ve come in and made a boatload of changes to the estate and how it ran. Instead, he’d taken a learner’s mindset, seeing how things were done here in Scotland and respecting Malcolm’s near twenty years of expertise as the estate manager. On top of that, Raleigh had invested in the ventures of a number of his tenants, allowing them to expand their various businesses.

But his few months of observation were apparently over, and he was beginning to make changes with an eye toward longevity and environmental sustainability for the future of the estate. Malcolm was a man of nature, so he could appreciate Raleigh’s motivation, but why the bloody hell did everything have to change right now? Hadn’t there been enough upheaval?

“Put that table over there, will you darlin’? We’re gonna bring out the appetizers here in a little bit.”

The sound of that easy Southern drawl had Malcolm’s shoulders twitching tight with irritation, even as his gaze was pulled toward the tiny Latina spitfire who’d made his life one step away from a living hell.

Charlotte Vasquez, Raleigh’s self-proclaimed second mother, had followed him to Scotland. The woman drove Malcolm absolutely crazy. She was smiley and cheerful and pushy—his absolute antithesis. That was all bad enough, but damn if she didn’t have a sharp tongue and utter refusal to take shit off anyone—including him—that Malcolm couldn’t help but find sexy as hell. The physical package didn’t hurt there, either. She was a wee thing, not even topping his shoulders, but despite her diminutive stature, she had generous curves in all the right places. She was the kind of woman a man wanted to get his hands on. Then there were those dark eyes that invited you to drown in them, and all that thick, black hair his fingers itched to touch.

Not that he’d do any such thing, because he didn’t actually like the woman. And she was his boss’s mother. Sort of.

Maybe he could’ve gotten past that for some sort of short-term tumble, but Charlotte wasn’t going home to Texas. She was staying in Scotland, with plans to ruin his sanctuary by turning the big manor house of Lochmara into a bed-and-breakfast. If she got her way, strangers would be running around all the time.

He didn’t want strangers around.

They’d talk to him and expect an answer.

“Can I get a hand over here?”

Case in point.

But Malcolm trudged over to the truck that had been used to haul tables and chairs from the event planning business Kyla and her friend Sophie ran at Ardinmuir. Raleigh’s friend Zeke, who’d flown over from America for this party, had one of the long tables dragged almost all the way out. Malcolm picked up the other end and helped him cart it into the formal gardens where the party was being held.

At least the B&B was on down the line.

Right now, the focus was on rehabbing and renovating the empty crofters’ cottages at Lochmara and Ardinmuir into spaces that could be rented out to tourists. That prospect didn’t bother Malcolm quite as much. He recognized the need for diversification in order to sustain the estates, and the cottages weren’t nearby enough to put strangers on his doorstep.

In the beginning, the focus had been on the twenty or so cottages at Ardinmuir, so Charlotte had spent her time driving Connor crazy with her “vision” for the whole thing. But over the past month, Connor and his small crew more or less had a handle on things at his estate, so the project had bled over to Lochmara. Which meant Malcolm was now working with Charlotte more or less daily, and he was essentially at the end of his rope.

They didn’t agree on anything. He was practical. She was fanciful, more concerned with form over function. Malcolm was exhausted from all the head-butting. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d moved into the other half of the duplex where he lived on the estate, which meant he couldn’t escape her anywhere.

The last thing he wanted was to spend any time at this stupid party. He’d finish helping with setup, wait until the surprise was sprung, wish Raleigh a happy birthday, and then get the hell out.

He moved and carried whatever needed moving and carrying, from outdoor furniture to coolers, to food being set upon the now cloth-covered tables. Then, at last, everything was set, and the crowd of guests took their positions, ducking behind shrubs and tables.

Malcolm found himself next to Ewan McBride, one of the MacKeans’ cousins, who owned The Stag’s Head Pub in the nearby village of Glenlaig. As the minutes drew out, the younger man pulled a flask from his pocket and offered it.

Malcolm shook his head. He’d be drinking tonight, but it wouldn’t be here.

He shifted, his aging knees complaining about the sustained crouch. “I dinna ken what’s taking so long.”

Ewan grinned. “They’re newlyweds. What do you think?”

That supposition seemed to be confirmed when the happy couple finally materialized a full twenty minutes after the designated start-time. Both looked fresh from a shower.

“Somebody’s already got one of his birthday presents,” Ewan muttered in a low voice.

As soon as Raleigh and Kyla entered the garden, they all leapt up, shouting, “Surprise!”

The wave of sound made Malcolm flinch. There were too many people. Too much happy.

Raleigh began making the rounds, shaking hands, thanking people for coming.

Malcolm considered trying to push closer to get this part over with, but if he’d learned nothing else about Raleigh, it was that the man could talk. He probably got that from Charlotte.

“Zeke!” Raleigh’s shout of excitement was followed by the two men embracing with back-thumping hugs. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Couldn’t miss it.”

Somebody turned on the sound system, and music began to pump through the garden. Raleigh continued to make his way through the crowd. And suddenly Malcolm couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get the fuck out of here.

With all the focus on the birthday boy, it was easy to slip away. With everyone else there, it wasn’t as if Raleigh was likely to notice or care that Malcolm didn’t wish him a proper happy birthday. It wasn’t as if they were mates.

His flat was a hundred or so meters from the manor house. Near to the stables, the building had once housed stable staff. Sometime in the past fifty years, it had been converted into two flats. With the noise of the party at his back, Malcolm unlocked his door and stepped inside. The heavy paneled wood muted the sounds of celebration enough that he could breathe a little sigh of relief.

There were no more eyes on him. No more performing. No more pretending that his world wasn’t bleak and barren right now. He didn’t have to hide the grief that was a constant companion.

Moving with purpose, he strode to the little kitchenette and opened the cabinet above the refrigerator. An old and dusty bottle of Macallan sat on the shelf. He pulled it out, as he had many times over the years. But instead of inspecting it, challenging himself, then putting it away again, this time he grabbed a glass. The pop of the cork as he opened it ignited a whole host of memories he’d done his best to forget. But tonight, those were preferable company.

Tipping the bottle, he poured himself a glass and prepared to get blind, stinking drunk for the first time in twenty years.

* * *

Charlotte Vasquez loved parties.

And people.

And peopling.

She fed off bringing people joy and making them comfortable. It was what had attracted her to the hospitality industry, once upon a very long time ago. She’d loved a lot of things about her job as a corporate executive for a big hotel chain. It had been a hell of an achievement as the first college graduate in her family. Papi had been so proud.

But none of that had stopped her from walking away when her lifelong best friend had been given a terminal diagnosis. She’d never regretted that decision, never regretted the choice to stay for Raleigh, even though it had cost her that career and the chance for a marriage and children of her own. They made their own family, and unconventional though it was, it worked for them.

Moments like this one, when she watched her boy pull his best friend in for a back-slapping hug as he grinned from ear to ear, made it absolutely worth it. She was glad Zeke had been able to get away for another trip across the pond so soon. He’d flown out back in the spring to be a witness for Raleigh’s wedding, and he’d jumped at the chance to come back. By his own admission, that had only been half about Raleigh. Zeke had his sights set on more of the small-batch artisan cheese made by one of Lochmara’s crofters, Pippa Wallace. Charlotte privately wondered whether that was more to do with Zeke’s heart than his stomach. He was an incorrigible flirt, so she suspected it would take him a while to figure out the difference. She certainly looked forward to the show.

Pulling her attention away from the embracing men, Charlotte scanned the assembly, automatically assessing whether any of the guests needed anything. Someone had started the music, and hands were already full of drinks. That had been the easiest way to quell the restless crowd when Kyla took longer than planned to get Raleigh down for the party. Everyone seemed content and happy to be here, except for one lone figure, trudging away into the dark, kilt swishing as he walked.

Though she couldn’t see his face, she’d recognize that hulking form anywhere. Tall, with broad shoulders, Malcolm was a mountain of a man. She’d had more than one fantasy about him wielding a broadsword since she’d met him. He was exactly what she pictured for the brawny Scottish warrior heroes in the historical romances she enjoyed. It was too damned bad that his attitude was permanently dialed to Grumpasaurus Rex. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of Scotland, and Charlotte really wished that did more to detract from his overall sex appeal than it did. He didn’t like her, didn’t appreciate her input on the renovations they were both working on. The man had to fight her every step of the way. If he were left in charge, the cottages would end up resembling monastic cells rather than cozy homes away from home that invited guests to stay awhile. Which was the entire point of the endeavor. Their uneasy partnership was saved from utter disaster by the fact that he was capable and competent, traits she appreciated in those she worked with, despite whatever attitude they came with.

As she watched him walk away, her knee-jerk irritation faded. There was something in his posture, in the way those massive shoulders bowed, that told her this was more than his usual aversion to social gatherings. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but she sensed he was struggling somehow. Pain recognized pain.

For just a moment, she considered going to check on him.

But he wouldn’t welcome the intrusion, and the party was in full swing. It was her boy’s birthday, and she wanted to celebrate.

She wandered over to the cake table, where Angus MacKean, Kyla’s great uncle, was holding court beside the confection of butter, sugar, and flour he’d made for the occasion. His cheeks were flushed with pleasure and lively amusement. It was a far cry from how he’d looked after his heart attack a few months before.

“Angus, as good as this cake looks, I expect you’re having to beat people off with a stick.”

He grinned. “Could be we should ask Raleigh whether he wants to start with dessert first.”

Charlotte looped her arm through his. “It’s a wise man who does. Especially during a celebration.”

They both looked over to where Raleigh was still greeting guests, one hand tight around his wife’s.

“There is definitely a lot to celebrate,” Angus agreed.

“I’ll drink to that.” She lifted her glass of sparkling cider and tapped it to his.

There were so many things to be thankful for, which was an enormous surprise, considering where they’d both been six months ago. Everyone had been shocked when Raleigh’s father died and left everything, including the family ranch that was his son’s legacy through Lily, to his second wife. Charlotte had always thought Luther Beaumont was a bastard, but even she hadn’t been prepared for that. They’d both been out on their asses within a week.

Now, here they were, in a whole other country, building new lives. Raleigh was not only married, he was happy. She could see it in every line of his posture, every nuance of his face. No mother could ask for more for her son.

They both went back to watching Raleigh and Kyla work the crowd.

“He’s been so good for her,” Angus observed.

“And she for him. Who would’ve thought that would be the result of an arranged marriage?”

“It’s certainly no’ how Connor and Afton would have turned out, had they gone through with it.”

She turned her attention back to Angus. “How is Connor about all of this? It’s got to be an enormous change for him, being free to pursue someone for love.”

“I’m not sure if he’s quite ready for that.”

“Not ready to give up his playboy ways?” She’d heard some stories of Connor’s exploits.

“Actually, I’m no’ sure he’s sought any female companionship since before the wedding. If he has, he’s keeping mum about it. I think he’s still wrapping his head around the idea that he could have a real relationship with someone.”

Turning her attention back to the party, Charlotte searched Connor out, finally locating him in conversation with Hamish Colquhoun, the lawyer who’d handled all the details of the estate transition. His focus was on someone else. Following Connor’s gaze, she spotted Sophie Cameron, Kyla’s best friend and business partner, laughing with Pippa Wallace. Charlotte’s inner romantic sat up and said, hmmm.

“Charlotte!” Across the garden, Raleigh lifted his hand in a come-hither gesture. “There’s somebody I want you to meet.”

She bussed Angus’s wrinkled cheek. “Duty calls. I’ll see if I can nudge him in this direction so we can all get into that beautiful cake of yours.”

The evening rolled on in a blur of faces and names. Food was eaten, beverages were consumed, and the center of the garden was turned into a makeshift dance floor. By the end of the night, Charlotte decided her first official party in Scotland was a massive success. As the guests began to make their way toward vehicles, the hostess energy that had fueled all the prep and setup and socializing began to wane. The idea of all the teardown left her feeling exhausted.

Kyla slipped an arm around her waist. “Why don’t you let all of us do the cleanup? You put in the most work of anybody to plan this.”

Under ordinary circumstances, Charlotte would have ignored the offer and seen everything cleaned up, but she was tired from more than simply party planning. She was happy to be here and thrilled beyond belief that Raleigh was settled and happy himself. But there was grief, too, that Lily hadn’t lived to see this.

“I won’t say no. I’m sure I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

“Night, Charlotte.”

She found Raleigh. “I’m giving you one more birthday hug and then turning in.”

He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “It was an awesome party. I’ll even forgive you for making it a surprise party, when you know I hate surprises.”

“If you’re telling me Kyla didn’t spill the beans, then I’ll have to up my estimation of her secret-keeping abilities.”

The look on his face had her laughing. She rose to her toes and pressed a noisy kiss to his cheek. “Good night, sweet boy. Happy birthday.”

“Love you.”

“Love you back.”

Abandoning the younger folks to cleanup, she headed to her flat.

The tequila she’d bought earlier in the week, in anticipation of exactly this night, was waiting on the counter of the kitchenette. It was her tradition to have a drink with Lily every year on Raleigh’s birthday and after all his milestones. She’d been doing it for years, sharing those moments with her friend in the only way she knew how.

Crossing to the cabinet, she pulled out a glass and picked up the bottle. She’d already had alcohol tonight, so this would be just one shot in honor of Lily.

Something thumped through the wall.

Malcolm was still up.

Charlotte thought of the bowing in his shoulders and felt a fresh surge of concern. He wouldn’t appreciate what he’d deem her nosiness, but she found she couldn’t just shrug it off. She’d go check on him, even though it would likely result in him slamming the door in her face.

Without giving herself a chance to think, she snagged another glass and took the lot of it next door.

Two

After a fifth of whisky, Malcolm’s blood was swimming. Or maybe that was his head. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he definitely recognized the clear attraction he felt to this numbing sensation. The pain that was his constant companion had gone quiet. Even through the haze of alcohol, he understood that this was how he’d fallen into the bottle all those years ago. Trying to escape down the rabbit hole. Through the looking glass. Or something.

He eyed his empty glass and picked up the bottle to pour another. When only a single drop rolled out, he closed one eye and squinted into the narrow neck, as if that would explain what had happened to the whisky. Neither the glass nor the bottle was refilling itself. Before he could decide what to do about that, someone knocked on the door.

Malcolm recognized he wasn’t in fit condition to handle anything, but as he was the estate manager, whatever it was fell to him anyway, so he pushed himself to unsteady feet and stumbled to the door. He really hoped nobody had gone off into a ditch and needed their vehicle pulled out with one of the 4x4s or the tractor.

Charlotte stood on the stoop, the faint glow of the exterior light by her own door casting a small halo over her dark hair. She looked like some kind of angel, which put Malcolm’s back up.

“Why are you here?”

As usual, she didn’t even flinch at his impersonation of a bear. “I noticed you left the party early, so I came to check on you.”

He scowled. He didn’t need anything from this woman who made him want things he couldn’t have. “Why would you do that?”

On a shrug, she lifted something. “I thought you might like to have a drink with me.”

His gaze tracked the squat bottle in her hand. The liquid inside was paler than the whisky he’d been drinking, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. If the gods wanted to gift him this ready supply, he shouldn’t turn it away.

A very quiet voice in the back of his mind shouted that this was a terrible idea because he had no business drinking any more, regardless. Plus, he didn’t actually like this woman.

But she was so bonnie, and she smelled nice, and that southern drawl did things to him, so he found himself stepping back to allow her inside.