Single Dad in a Kilt E-Book

Kait Nolan

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

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A single dad who’s drowning

Single dad Hamish Colquhoun is overwhelmed. He’s opening a new law practice, renovating a temperamental two-hundred-year-old farmhouse, and barely surviving his daughter’s entry into puberty. The last thing he has time for is a woman. Least of all the runaway bride who nearly married his best friend. The former heiress he’s always secretly had feelings for.

A runaway bride searching for redemption

Afton Lennox knows she burned a lot of bridges when she bailed on her arranged marriage, but she’s finally back, ready to make amends to everyone she hurt with her abrupt departure. At the top of that list, Hamish Colquhoun, the man who gave her the secret to her escape. The man who turns out to be newly divorced. Taking the second biggest risk of her life, Afton confesses her lifelong feelings.

A parent trap to save them both

When Hamish makes it clear he’s in no position to pursue anything, Afton’s prepared to leave again, this time for good. But a tween intervention lands Afton as a temporary nanny. Through home renovations, goat shenanigans, and an array of matchmaking attempts, these three lonely hearts just might find they make the best kind of family.

Leseprobe

SINGLE DAD IN A KILT

A FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SINGLE DAD-NANNY, PARENT TRAP, SMALL TOWN SCOTTISH ROMANCE

KILTED HEARTS

BOOK 5

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

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Other Books By Kait Nolan

About Kait

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ONE

Hamish Colquhoun had known there’d be challenges when he chose to move back home to Glenlaig from Edinburgh. He’d been ready for the endless list of renovations and repairs to the two-hundred-year-old farmhouse he’d bought. He’d braced himself for the back and forth necessary to ensure that his daughter, Freya, retained some kind of relationship with her mother. He’d even known that the switch from contract law to a family law practice would lead to an entirely different sort of caseload, and he’d welcomed the change of pace.

But nothing in his varied legal career had prepared him for this.

One of the… things in the enclosed livestock trailer screamed, and Hamish stumbled back, wondering if he’d somehow wandered onto the set of a slasher film. Maybe he was dreaming.

Stuart MacDonald grinned.

Drawing on every shred of remaining professionalism he possessed, Hamish managed to choke back the impassioned, What the fuck? and instead asked, “What have you got here, Stuart?”

Looking inordinately pleased with himself, Stuart rocked back on his heels and folded his arms. “Your new landscaping crew.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I remembered what you said at your office a couple months back, when we were doing the reading of Mum’s will. About how you were having a hard time keeping up with the weeding and clearing of the land since you bought the place.”

Hamish barely remembered the conversation. It had just been small talk to ease what had been a difficult day for the son of his late client, Catriona MacDonald. When Stuart didn’t continue, Hamish arched an expectant brow. “Aye?”

“Well, these were Mum’s goats. Certainly, we can’t keep them at our flat in Glasgow, so they need to be re-homed. When I remembered you had this place, I thought this was the ideal solution. You’ve got a barn right here that’s empty and ready to go.”

It was empty. Hamish didn’t know about ready to go. Other than making sure the place wasn’t about to cave in and pose a danger to his daughter, he hadn’t done a bloody thing with the barn. It hadn’t even rated going on the priority list, and he didn’t want to add it now. He couldn’t handle another living thing to care for beyond himself and Freya. He’d already been fending off her daily requests for a puppy and a horse. At no point had goats ever been under consideration.

Struggling to find a more tactful response than “Not no, but hell no,” Hamish tried to offer a friendly smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I dinna know the first thing about taking care of goats.”

Stuart waved that away. “Oh, it’s easy. This time of year, you’ll keep them in the barn. They’ve got hair, no’ wool like sheep, so they’re no’ waterproof. And you dinna want to leave them out in the wet or they’ll end up with foot rot. But on the days that it’s no’ raining and no’ completely freezing, you’ll just let them out to forage, and they’ll eat everything that you dinna want.”

They were goats. Didn’t they eat everything? Wasn’t that a thing?

“But—”

“You’ve already got a fence.” Stuart scanned the overgrown length of it. “You might need to patch it in a couple of places, but that willnae be a big deal. You’ve got plenty of time to do that before spring. In the meantime, they’ll basically be barn animals. I even brought you enough hay to get you started for a couple of weeks.”

A low-level panic began to bubble in Hamish’s blood. He was already struggling. Being a single parent was so much harder than he’d thought it would be, even with his parents’ help, and even though Freya was reasonably self-sufficient at twelve. The idea of adding something else—multiple somethings, based on the shifting and milling happening inside the trailer—was absolutely overwhelming.

Later, he’d decide it was the overwhelm that had kept him from being able to make his brain work to find a polite way to decline the lunatic offer.

“I dinna know what to say.” That was the God’s honest truth.

“You gave so much peace and comfort to my mother by helping sort out her will and her estate. She would want you to have them.”

How the hell was he supposed to say “No” after that?

“Well, I… guess we should unload them.”

Beaming, Stuart climbed into his 4x4 and backed the trailer up to the barn.

In the back of Hamish’s brain, he was already plotting. Stuart didn’t live in Glenlaig. His mother’s estate was all sorted, other than this. The house was already under contract, so Stuart would be headed back to Glasgow soon. Hamish could take the animals for now and find someone else who’d want them. Surely there was someone at one of the crofts at Lochmara or Ardinmuir who could use some free goats?

The moment Stuart dropped the gate of the trailer and began herding its occupants out, Hamish started rethinking his plan. The lead goat screamed at him, aiming one wide, golden eye in his direction as he—she—it?—charged past.

Okay, how could anything with a horizontal pupil not be demon spawn?

The remaining goats—there were six in all—took a more leisurely stroll down the gate and into the open barn.

“I… uh… Do they have to be milked?” Goat milk was a thing, wasn’t it?

Stuart laughed. “No, no. These are meat goats, no’ dairy goats. They’re the best for clearing land. None of them have had kids. You’ve got four females and two wethers.”

“Wethers?”

“Castrated males.”

“So, I dinna have to worry about any of them making more baby goats?”

“No. There are no billies in the herd. Which is just as well. They smell right manky.”

Small mercies.

Stuart did most of the herding of the goats into the pens inside the barn that had been used for some sort of livestock in the past. They unloaded the four rectangular hay bales he’d brought, and Stuart made some observations about lighting and heating that had a headache clawing at the back of Hamish’s skull as he added more things to his never-ending to-do list.

After shutting the barn doors, Stuart clasped his hand in a warm grip. “Thanks again for all your help with Mum. Death is never easy, but you made handling the aftermath a lot less hassle than it could’ve been.”

At the end of the day, that was the biggest reason Hamish had decided to shift into family law instead of continuing work for his Edinburgh firm through telework. The personal aspect of having a direct impact on people’s lives. “That was what your mother wanted.”

As Stuart started to climb back into the driver’s seat, Hamish called out. “Wait. What are they called? Their names?”

“Mum changed her mind on the regular. You can call them anything you want. Just not Billy. That old goat is my father-in-law.” With one last cheeky grin, he drove away, leaving Hamish the very reluctant new owner of a half-dozen goats.

“How the hell has my life come to this?”

There was no one around to answer the question, as Freya was off with her grandparents for the afternoon while he did some solo work on the house. The rambling structure had been added on to repeatedly over the past couple of centuries, up and out on both ends, such that it looked like something that ought to house a family of Weasleys rather than a lawyer and his daughter. But that was part of what had drawn him to the house. Dayna, his ex-wife, wouldn’t have even gotten out of the car, let alone come inside to see the charm and history of the place. And yeah, maybe there were a million-and-one projects that still needed to be finished. But he and his daughter had done a lot of bonding over painting and repairs and deciding what they wanted things to be. Given how Dayna seemed to have largely opted out of parenthood since the divorce, that was more important now than ever. There was still a long, long way to go to update the house, but they’d managed to pull off a lot in six months.

A sound from the barn reminded him of his new charges.

Right. He should call Malcolm. The estate manager over at Lochmara would probably have some suggestions about what he needed to do with the goats. He might even know someone who could take them off Hamish’s hands immediately. That would probably be better. God forbid Freya catch sight of them. She’d never expressed an interest in goats, but she was so desperate for some sort of pet that he didn’t want to see her get attached to these, only to get heartbroken when they were re-homed. And they would be re-homed. Hamish was determined.

Maybe Malcolm’s fiancée, Charlotte, would want them. She adored the trio of Valais black nose sheep Malcolm had given her…

Before Hamish could make the call, his phone rang. His mother, according to the display. She was probably going to invite them over for dinner tonight, and he’d probably say yes, even though he knew he needed to work on being better about planning and executing meals at home.

“Hey, Mum.”

“Hamish.”

At the strain in her voice, he went ramrod straight, his fingers tightening on the phone. “What’s wrong? Is it Freya?”

If anything had happened to his daughter—

“No. Freya’s fine. It’s your grandmother.”

* * *

Afton Lennox rolled up to the three-story Victorian with a sense of relief. The drive into the mountains from Nashville, up to the tiny town of Eden’s Ridge, had been a lot longer than what she was used to having grown up in Scotland, where one hundred miles was considered a long way. She was tired, but it felt good to be out of the city. She was a village girl at the core. The hustle and bustle would never be her natural milieu, and this little corner of Tennessee had carved out a place in her heart, because the people here had saved her life.

Or, at the very least, her sanity, which kind of amounted to the same thing.

At this time of day, the staff of The Misfit Inn would be split between the inn and the spa, depending on bookings. But she’d come to see someone else. Parking in the guest lot, Afton climbed out of her car and strolled down the familiar manicured path between the house and the converted barn that housed the spa. Though it was chilly, it wasn’t nearly as cold here for the first week of December as it would be back home, so there were still pops of color from pansies and dianthus, verbena and dahlias. Something else she hadn’t gotten used to.

At the back of the property sat The Misfit Kitchen, where Afton had found that second home. Part studio, part cooking school, The Misfit Kitchen was the brainchild of Athena Reynolds Maxwell, a James-Beard-award-winning, Michelin-starred chef who’d returned home to Tennessee after a scandal around her restaurant in Chicago. She’d reinvented herself, starting a web-based cooking show that had taken the internet by storm. That was the purpose of the studio. But Athena still taught the occasional small-format, in-person class, and it was through one of those that Afton had met her and found a new purpose. It had taken considerable work to convince Athena to take her on as an apprentice. But the farm-to-table cooking that Athena promoted on her show and in her cookbooks was something that appealed to Afton on a visceral level. Deep down, it was something she hoped to eventually take back to Scotland.

But that was getting way ahead of things.

Mindful of the fact that they were quite possibly taping, Afton slipped inside, carefully easing the door shut behind her. Scott, the twenty-something camera guy, was in his usual spot, rapt attention on Athena as she pulled something out of the oven that already had Afton’s mouth watering. From the side of the room, she heard a gasp and turned.

Athena’s seventeen-year-old niece, Ari, straightened from the wall with a silent pantomime that almost had Afton laughing. After many months of working with her, Afton could clearly follow the wild gesticulations.

Oh, my God, you’re here! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? It’s so good to see you!

This last part was communicated through an enthusiastic hug that Afton returned.

From the studio kitchen, Athena smiled at the camera as she held out the plated final dish. “There now, doesn’t that look delicious? It’s sure to impress whatever company you’re having over. Those judgey in-laws. That boss you’re hoping will promote you. That special someone you want to wow. Remember, you can find the recipes from today’s episode on the website. With lots of love from my kitchen to yours, I’m Athena Reynolds. Bye, y’all.”

“That’s a wrap!” Scott announced.

As soon as the camera shut off, Athena scooted out from behind the counter and crossed over to fold Afton into a hug herself. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Back at you.”

Her friend and mentor pulled back to study her. “So, are you finished, or are you just here for a visit?”

“I’m through with all my externship hours. I have officially been minted a gourmet chef.”

Athena grinned. “I knew you could do it. Come. Sit. We’ll eat some of what I just cooked, and you can tell us everything.”

“Sounds perfect.”

The food was divvied up among three plates and some takeout containers. The latter were pushed on Scott, who apparently hoped to impress a date. With a promise to have the next episode edited and ready to post by the end of the weekend, he darted out the door.

Then Afton, Athena, and Ari sat around one of the tables.

Athena pointed to the plate. “Analyze it. Tell me what’s in here.”

Well used to the exercise by now, Afton examined her plate, forking up a bite of the first side. “Wild rice with butternut squash and cranberries.” She dipped into the greens beside it. “Collard greens with smoked bacon and a splash of apple cider vinegar for that tang.” Cutting into the meat, she brought a bite to her mouth. “And cider-braised pork shoulder with apples and onions.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Athena picked up her own fork. “Very good.”

Afton basked in the glow of approval.

Ari dove into her own food. “So you’re done with the externship and have all the credentials and stuff. Now what?”

“I have no idea.” She turned to Athena. “But I wanted to come and thank you, because I wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

“You would’ve. It just might’ve looked different. And I owe you thanks, too. I never really thought I’d like teaching to that degree. When I had Olympus, I didn’t have apprentices like that. But it’s been a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Teaching someone who really wants to learn and has a legitimate aptitude makes all the difference.”

“You made it easy.”

Her mentor laughed. “I know I didn’t. I’m many things as a chef. Easy isn’t one of them. Take your props, woman.”

Afton laughed. “Fair enough.”

“What do you want to do next?”

“Well, I need a job. That’s kind of important. But the lease on my flat in Nashville is up at the end of the month, so I have to decide whether I’m going to renew it and try to find something there, or go somewhere else.”

Rolling her lips between her teeth, Athena exchanged a look with Ari that made it clear the two had been discussing Afton. “What about home?”

Home was a long way off, and Afton had been putting a lot of concerted effort into not thinking about it. “I dinna know.”

Athena put down her fork. “Real talk: Honey, it’s time. It’s been over a year and a half. You need to go home. Even if you don’t stay, you need some closure on that whole situation.”

How exactly did a runaway bride get closure?

“It’s not that easy. I dinna know exactly what I left behind or how anybody feels. I pissed a lot of people off when I ran, and I dinna know that anyone wants to hear from me.”

She’d made an art form of avoiding contact with everyone she knew. She hadn’t checked email, got a new phone number. She’d walked away from her entire life to get out of an arranged marriage, gambling her whole legacy away to someone else in Vegas. Which had put a friend in the hot seat as the next intended bride for a marriage pact that should never have survived into the modern day.

Ari, ever the optimist, protested. “You don’t know that. Things might be going swimmingly, for all you know.”

Because she said it as if she knew something, Afton just stared at the girl.

Holding up a finger in a wait-a-minute gesture, Ari tapped something on her phone. “For example, it seems that your former intended is getting married this weekend.”

Afton blinked. “Connor? Connor MacKean is getting married?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Where are you seeing this?”

“The Glenlaig village Facebook page. It’s a whole thing.”

“Let me see that.”

Ari smirked with satisfaction as she handed over her phone.

Afton scanned the announcement. Connor was marrying Sophie Cameron at the village kirk on Saturday, with a reception to be held afterward at Ardinmuir Castle.

So they didn’t lose the estate.

One of the knots she’d carried since she left finally loosened. That meant things had worked out, at least on a couple of fronts. Right?

The post was accompanied by an engagement photo of her friends. They looked well together, with Connor’s blue-eyed blond good looks, and the flawless brown skin and heavy mass of satiny black hair Sophie got from her Indian mother. The stress and strain Afton remembered was nowhere to be found in her pretty grey eyes. And Connor… Connor looked at her as if she’d hung the moon.

He’d never once looked at Afton like that.

As the silence spun out, Ari asked softly, “Does this upset you? I didn’t mean to step in it.”

Shaking off the brief pall of melancholy, Afton handed back the phone. “The whole reason I left was because I wasn’t in love with Connor. That would’ve been like marrying my brother. No, this is exactly as it should be. I always suspected he had feelings for her, and with me out of the way, he could finally act on them.”

When they both continued to stare at her in expectation, she fought to keep from hunching her shoulders. “What?”

“Don’t you want to be there for your friend? To see him be happy?” Ari asked.

“Of course, I do.”

But Connor’s wasn’t the only life she’d upended.

There was Raleigh Beaumont, the Texas cowboy who’d “won” the estate in Vegas after she’d deliberately tanked multiple hands of poker. He wouldn’t have known an arranged marriage was part of the package until he arrived to claim Lochmara. Then there was Kyla MacKean, Connor’s sister, who had been left to fulfill the pact in Afton’s stead, given the new owner was male. And Malcolm Niall, the estate manager who’d been something of a surrogate father to Afton after the death of her own, whom she hadn’t done more than leave a note for when she ran.

Then there was Hamish Colquhoun. The man who’d given her the answer to her freedom. The man who’d kissed her before she left, as if she were everything that had been missing in his life.

She couldn’t think about Hamish. He was off limits. Always had been.

But now that Ari had put the bug in her ear, Afton couldn’t not think about the prospect of going home. She’d love to see Connor and Sophie get married. Love to see the proof that things were working out, despite—or maybe because of—the desperate choice she’d made. And if it wasn’t? Well, maybe she’d spent long enough hiding from her mistakes.

“I suppose you’re right. I should go home, at least to wrap things up. And after that, we’ll see.”

“Book the ticket now,” Athena urged.

“Now?”

“Now. Before you talk yourself out of it. I know you. You’ll overthink it, same as you did that béchamel when I first taught you how to make it.”

“Fine.” Knowing her friend would never let it drop, Afton pulled out her own phone and searched for airfare. If she wanted to make it back in time for the wedding, she had to fly out tomorrow.

The cost of the last-minute fare made her wince, but she bought it anyway.

“Okay, it’s booked. Are you both happy now?”

“Yes,” they chorused.

Afton couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, in that case, there are some more goodbyes I need to see to before I leave.”

They all pushed back from the table.

“Fair enough.” Athena pulled her in for a hug. “You keep in touch now, you hear?”

Afton squeezed her tight, wondering when they’d see each other again. “Yes, Chef.”

TWO

“The doctors say it’s a broken hip. Not good, but she’s stable.”

As Hamish’s mother, Niamh, tossed more clothes into a suitcase, he tunneled a hand through his hair. “Do I need to be clearing my schedule? Making arrangements to help?”

“No, your da and I are going to go. She’s scheduled for surgery in the morning.”

“Poor Gran.” His grandmother wasn’t one to rest on her laurels. A hip replacement was a big bloody deal, and she was likely to be an absolute thrawn patient. “What can I do? How can I help?”

Niamh paused to lay a hand against his cheek. “Nothing, just now. It’ll be a long recovery. Your father and I will likely be in Glasgow for quite a while. I’m sorry we have to leave you with everything here.”

It finally penetrated Hamish’s brain what she meant. ‘Everything’ meaning Freya. They’d been doing a lot of the picking up and dropping off and providing meals, so he could handle all the things that needed handling. And he’d barely been making it. With both of them gone, how was he going to manage?

Because his mother looked so apologetic, he forced a smile. “It’s fine. We’ll be fine. I’ve been meaning to hire a nanny, anyway.” It was something he should’ve done well before now. His parents weren’t retired, and they were both juggling their own jobs. It really wasn’t fair to expect them to pick up the slack where he’d been failing.

Niamh zipped her bag and called down the hall. “Graham! Is the car unlocked?”

“Aye.” Hamish’s father stepped into the room and eyed her suitcase. “Are you expecting to be there halfway into next year?”

“Well, I dinna ken, now do I? Better to be prepared.”

“Fair enough.” He hefted the bag and carted it down the hall.

Freya emerged from the kitchen, biting her lip. Worry lit up the blue eyes she’d inherited from him. “Is Great Gran going to be okay?”

Hamish wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “She’s exactly where she needs to be. The doctors know what they’re doing.”

“I made a card for her.” She held up a construction paper creation with lots of glitter and stars.

“Aren’t you the sweetest? She’ll love it.” Niamh pressed a kiss to her brow. “We’ll call as soon as we have more news. Please send our regrets to Connor and Sophie. There’s no way we’ll be back for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”

Seeing his father hovering in the doorway, Hamish began herding his mum out of the house. “Think nothing of it. They’d want you to be with Gran.”

Outside, they all exchanged another flurry of hugs. Then his parents loaded into their car and pulled away.

For a long minute, Hamish and his daughter stood staring after them. Knowing she’d be looking to him for cues on how to handle this whole situation, he locked away his own anxiety and squeezed her shoulder. “Well, that’s a lot of excitement. It’ll probably be tomorrow before we hear anything. I’m guessing you didn’t get a chance to eat dinner?”

Freya shook her head.

“The pub?” he suggested. They’d already eaten there twice this week, but there weren’t a lot of options in Glenlaig, and at least The Stag’s Head had menu options that weren’t fried. That put it slightly ahead of The Village Chippy on nutrition, right?

His daughter offered an apathetic jerk of her thin shoulders. “Sure.”

Father of the year, right here.

He was going to figure out this cooking thing. After his best friend’s wedding this weekend, when he had a little more bandwidth. It wasn’t so much the cooking as the planning he was falling down on. He could put meals together when he had the time. Maybe he could look into one of those meal kit delivery services where they provided the recipes and all the ingredients. Surely, he could manage that?

The pub was already half-full when they arrived. Laura Craig, one of the owners of the place, shot them a smile. “Back again? Your table’s free.”

They had their own table now? Damn it. He was really falling into that bachelor stereotype. Holding in his wince, he nudged Freya forward. “Last-minute change of plans. My grandmother broke her hip, so my parents are on their way to Glasgow.”

Laura lost the smile. “Oh, no! Is she alright?”

Hamish gave her the update, knowing that would effectively spread the news across the village and save him time. “They’ll likely be staying for a while, so I’m looking for a part-time nanny to help out. Do you know of anyone looking for extra work? Maybe one of the servers?”

The older woman wagged a finger. “Dinna you be tryin’ to steal my waitstaff, Hamish Colquhoun.” A wink took any sting out of her protest. “I’ll certainly put the word out, and we’ll see what happens.”

“That’d be great. Thank you.”

Freya waited until they’d sat down before pinning him with a look. “Why do I need a nanny? I’m twelve, Da.”

This was going to be a sensitive topic. “It’s not because you need a babysitter. A nanny would be someone to help, ferrying you to and from school, maybe making some meals, since that’s obviously not my strong suit. There’s just a lot going on right now, with work and renovations on the house. It’s hard to get everything done.”

“What about Uncle Connor and Aunt Sophie? Aunt Kyla and Uncle Raleigh? Charlotte and Malcolm?”

As she listed off his friends, he worked not to cringe. He knew they’d help. Hell, they had helped. All of them. They’d made offers repeatedly to do more. He just… didn’t want to take advantage. Or maybe he didn’t want to admit he needed as much help as he did. He’d always been the guy other people came to for assistance. He’d never really had to ask for any, and he didn’t like the change that had come about because of his divorce.

“You know they all adore you. But for the immediate future, Connor and Sophie will be leaving this weekend for their honeymoon. And Kyla and Raleigh are tied up with the baby.” And Charlotte and Malcolm had their foster son, Gavin, who was fourteen and currently the object of a not insignificant crush. Hamish didn’t want to do anything that encouraged that.

His daughter’s shoulders curled in, and her gaze dropped. “I dinna want to be a burden to anyone.”

The instant burst of temper at his ex-wife, at himself, left Hamish momentarily speechless. There were always casualties in divorce, and he was doing everything he could to make up for Dayna’s apathy. The last thing he wanted was to make Freya feel as if he was pawning her off on someone else.

He struggled to find the right words. “Look at me.” When she didn’t, he injected a note of dad-authority into his tone. “Freya.” She lifted her gaze. “You are not a burden. You are my joy. My looking for a nanny isn’t a reflection on you. It’s all about me. I’m having a hard time juggling everything by myself.” And if admitting that out loud was like swallowing razor blades, so be it. “If I have somebody who can help with the driving around and food and a few other things, then I’ll be able to manage my workload more effectively during regular work hours, so I dinna have to bring it home. Which means I’ll have more quality time to spend with you.”

Freya looked dubious about the whole thing. “Okay. But I reserve veto rights.”

His lips twitched because she was so obviously his child. “Fair enough. You may have veto rights. Shake on it?”

She took his extended hand and pumped it once, with a firm grip and decisive nod.

“So, we’re settled, then?” he prompted.

“We’re settled.”

Feeling better about the situation, he picked up a menu.

“Oi, Hamish.” Across the pub, Hugh McGowan lifted his pint in acknowledgment. “I hear Stuart MacDonald gifted you with his mother’s goats on his way out of town.”

Freya went brows up. “We have goats?”

Hamish just closed his eyes. Well, fuck.

* * *

Afton followed the road that wrapped along the edge of Stockton Quarry Lake, feeling a mix of grief and joy. Would this be the last time she came here? Surely not. Rebecca and Grey would never allow her to disappear from their lives. Not after everything they’d been through together.

She hadn’t known, when she approached the American couple on their honeymoon in Scotland and asked to join them for their ride to the airport, that she’d be making more than a temporary connection. If they hadn’t said yes, hadn’t taken one look at her on that desperate day and known she was in trouble, she didn’t know what would’ve happened. Oh, she’d have found some other way to escape, but she probably wouldn’t have been able to disappear as entirely and effectively as she had. She wouldn’t have been able to so fully change her life for the better. For that, they’d earned her undying gratitude.

They’d done so much more than give her a ride. They’d invited her to visit them here in Eden’s Ridge. They’d given her a place to stay until she could get back on her feet and find a new direction. More, they’d become another set of parents. After losing her own in a plane crash twelve years ago, that was something she’d desperately craved. Having someone to ask for guidance, for support, someone she knew accepted her exactly as she was… It was a gift without price. She loved them both. So while going back to Scotland felt necessary and timely, she didn’t want to abandon what she’d found here.

Their house perched on a hill overlooking the lake. An expansive two stories of wood and stone, it seemed to have grown out of the mountain itself. Porches on both levels overlooked the water. Just now, the railings of both were draped in fresh evergreen garland and fairy lights. Rebecca loved Christmas and had cheerfully browbeaten everyone in the family to help decorate the day after Thanksgiving. The massive twelve-foot Frasier fir sat in a place of honor, framed by the picture window. Its white lights twinkled, inviting her in.

It was a hell of a house, far too big for just Grey and Rebecca, but they’d built it for the massive extended family that included their son, Jonah; his wife, Rachel; Rebecca’s daughter, Samantha; her husband, Griff; Jonah’s business partners and their wives, and all the grandbabies, of which there were currently six, though Afton wouldn’t at all be surprised if Jonah and Rachel were thinking about another.

Theirs was a house filled with love, and it was so very different from the empty, echoing halls of Afton’s ancestral home, Lochmara.

Not my home any longer.

If her heart twisted with a pang at that, it was a price she’d learned to endure. Her freedom was worth more than memories and legacy.

Shaking off the blanket of melancholy, she gathered up the bags of groceries and headed for the front door. Though she knew she was welcome, she rang the bell. Rebecca and Grey were, in a sense, still newlyweds, having found each other again after decades apart. She didn’t want to risk interrupting anything.

The door opened a few moments later, and Afton found herself wrapped in a swaying mom-hug from Rebecca. Hands full, Afton could only tuck her head against the other woman’s shoulder and soak in the love.

“Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”

“It was a surprise.” When Rebecca released her, she held up the bags. “I brought supplies to make dinner.”

“Wonderful! We’re not gonna say no. Come in, come in. Grey! Afton’s here!”

Rebecca’s husband, retired Naval Captain Mitchell Greyson, emerged from the kitchen. A smile curved his lips as he, too, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Hey, sugar. Here, let me take those.”

Because she knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, Afton allowed him to relieve her of the grocery bags as they all wandered back to the kitchen.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your delightful company?” he asked.

“I wanted to see you both. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Rebecca’s tone held that faux casual note that didn’t fool Afton for a moment.

“Let me get dinner started, and I’ll tell you.”

“Sure. What’s on the menu?” Grey asked. “Can I open a bottle of wine to go with it?”

“We’re having a warm roasted beet salad with goat cheese and walnuts; pan roasted chicken with lemon-garlic Brussels sprouts, and sweet potato mash; and an apple pear crisp for dessert.”

He looked to Rebecca. “Remind me why we haven’t kidnapped her to be our permanent culinary slave?”

“Labor laws.” She nodded very seriously.

Afton snickered as she began unloading the bags onto the wide soapstone counters.

“And we love her too much to put her in another cage.”

Well, didn’t that just choke her right up? Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she addressed Grey. “If you’ve got a Voignier or Chardonnay, those would pair well. Or even a light Pinot Noir.”

“Coming right up.”

They let her take over the kitchen, leaving her be as she set the oven to heat and began to prep the ingredients. For a little while, she lost herself in the simple pleasure of the food, of preparing a meal for people she cared about, in a kitchen that was familiar. She’d cooked for them so many times during her apprenticeship with Athena. She’d missed it during the six months of her externship, working in a commercial kitchen in Nashville. Missed the easy conversation and the unquestionable feeling of belonging that was so much a part of who the Greysons were, the vibe they extended to everyone around them.

“So, first off, my externship is officially finished. I’ve got my chef credentials.”

Rebecca’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful! Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Afton slid the tray of foil-wrapped beets into the oven. “And… I’m flying back to Scotland tomorrow.”

When neither of them spoke, she turned to find them exchanging one of those married-people looks. Anxiety curled in her gut.

With an expression of speculation, Grey set a wineglass in front of her. “Why now?”

Needing something to do with her hands, she picked up the glass and sipped. Chardonnay. An unoaked one, if her palate didn’t lie.

“Well, Connor is getting married, as he absolutely should, to the one-hundred percent right person, and I want to be there.”

“That’s both admirable and wonderful,” Rebecca declared. “How are you feeling about all that?”

Afton huffed a humorless laugh. “Frankly, I’m kind of scared shiteless. I left a lot of things up in the air, and my actions impacted a lot of people. I have no idea what happened. I’ve done everything I can to avoid finding out because I’ve been afraid of the answer.”

“You could look,” Grey suggested. “There’s a lot of information out there on the internet. And it happens you know people who can find things out.”

Jonah and his business partners, Holt and Brax, had all been in various branches of the military before they’d retired and opened a bakery together. Holt’s brother-in-law was former Army Intelligence and had a reputation for being able to find out anything about anybody.

“I’m not calling in Cash to fill in the gaps.” That was like using a shovel when a teaspoon would do. “The wedding announcement on the village Facebook page says Connor and Sophie’s reception is at Ardinmuir. I have to believe that means they didn’t lose the estate. Honestly, that’s the only reason I can go back. If he and Kyla had lost everything because I ran, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

Rebecca scowled. “You were in an untenable situation.”

“Aye, I was. But so were they, and Connor was still prepared to do his duty. Anyway, I guess now that the bubble of curiosity has been burst on one piece, I want to know everything. And I want to find out in person. I need to do that for myself. I just have to hope that they’ll all forgive me.” Which was a very tall order.

Grey accepted the announcement with a little more ease than his wife. “What time are you leaving?”

“I fly out of Nashville tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“That’s not necessary.” The protest came automatically.

“Come on now. Then you can leave your car here instead of in long-term parking. Since you don’t know how long you’ll be, this will save you the expense. And then we’ll know you got off okay.”

It had been so damned long since she’d had anyone worry about her, she couldn’t say no. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about the whole thing before you go?” Rebecca asked.

“No, I dinna think I do. I might talk myself out of it.”

“I think this trip will be good for you. No matter how it turns out, you need the closure.”

There was that word again. But none of her Tennessee family was wrong. She did need closure. Her life in Scotland had been a big, open question for more than a year and a half. Before she could move on with her life, whatever that looked like, she needed to resolve this.

“That’s certainly the hope. But tonight, I really just want to cook for you and hang out. I don’t know how long it’ll be before we can do this again.”

Rebecca hustled around the counter to squeeze her again. “We’re really gonna miss you.”

This time, Afton had her hands free to squeeze back. “I’m going to miss both of you, too. It’s meant so much that you made me a part of your family. And who knows? Depending on how everything goes, I may turn right around and come back to Tennessee.”

Keeping her arm around Afton’s waist, Rebecca snagged her wine. “Well, if you do, of course we’d love to have you. You know you’ll always have a place here.”

Grey lifted his glass. “To the family we make.”

Throat burning, Afton clinked her glass to theirs. “I’ll drink to that.”

THREE

“Well, don’t you look all grown up?” Sophie crooned. “That dress is absolutely lovely, Freya. It really brings out your eyes.”

Hamish watched pleased color streak across his daughter’s cheeks and wished he could be pleased as well. But he didn’t like all the signs that his baby was growing up. She’d already added two inches since the summer. His mum had taken her shopping for the navy dress she wore. Made of some stretchy fabric, it clung to her frame in a way that made it obvious she was getting the first hints of curves. Seeing her in a dress and heels—even low ones—made it ever so clear that Freya was on the cusp of womanhood.

Past the cusp, actually. They’d survived that talk a few months ago, and he’d successfully navigated the purchase of feminine hygiene products before Kyla had kindly introduced them both to period underpants, which had been a less traumatic option all around.

Shaking off his thoughts, Hamish pulled Connor in for a hug. “Mum and Dad send their regrets that they couldn’t make it for the dinner.”

His best and oldest friend thumped him on the back. “Think nothing of it. What’s the news on your gran?”

“She came through surgery just fine. The doctor says it will be a few weeks, at the very least, before she regains sufficient mobility to function at home, so Mum and Dad are both taking leave and staying for the first couple of weeks. Then they’ll be telecommuting from there as work allows. The longer-term recovery is more like three to six months.”

Connor whistled.

Kyla strode up, her six-month-old daughter, Lily, perched on one hip. “Are we going to make bets on how long it takes her to browbeat her physiotherapist into letting her go early?”

“I take it your grandmama is stubborn?” Raleigh slid an arm around his wife’s waist and pressed an absent but adoring kiss to Lily’s strawberry-blonde fuzz, prompting the baby to coo and flail one little fist to catch her father’s finger, which she promptly pulled into her mouth.

Hamish ached at the sight, remembering Freya at that age. Not that he hadn’t loved every stage after that—with the possible exception of the terrible twos. But he just… wished he could still hold her. Still press his lips to the baby down of her hair and soak in the smell of baby shampoo. He was deathly afraid of what was coming. That she would hit teenager and suddenly decide she hated him and wanted to live with her mother back in Edinburgh. Not that he thought Dayna would go for that. Which opened the door to the potential for all sorts of other rebellion he simply wasn’t prepared to cope with.

“Hamish?” Sophie prompted.

Shaking himself, he traced the conversation back to Raleigh’s question. His gran being stubborn. Right. “That’s putting it mildly. She was still pretty out of it when I spoke to Mum earlier, but I expect she’ll be back to her usual self as soon as the painkillers are out of her system.”

“We’ll send her some flowers to brighten up her room,” Sophie promised.

“Mum has sworn to stream the wedding for her tomorrow, so I hope the AV is all sorted.”

“On it!” This announcement came from Ciara McBride, Connor and Kyla’s younger cousin, who worked part-time for the event planning company that Kyla and Sophie ran out of Ardinmuir. Her other job was waiting tables at The Stag’s Head, as her brother, Ewan, was the other owner. Hamish knew she was rapidly headed toward full-time for Ardinmuir Event Planning, but he wondered if she had any hours she could put toward nannying in the meantime. He still hadn’t found anyone.

Swayze Parish, the Georgia-born social media influencer who’d helped put Ardinmuir Event Planning on the map and had been instrumental in Connor and Sophie getting together in the first place, waved her phone. “Not to interrupt this reunion, but I just got a text from Charlotte wanting to know our ETA so she can let the caterers know. We should probably get this show on the road.”

In her cheerful Southern-belle way, she herded them all into the sanctuary where the rest of their motley crew was waiting with Father Grant. Raleigh took Lily from Kyla, and Freya joined them in the front row. Everyone else gathered around the altar and listened patiently to Father Grant’s instructions. Then the women and Connor and Kyla’s great uncle Angus peeled off, taking their position in the narthex. Hamish, Connor, and Ewan moved out to the hall just to the right of the sanctuary, awaiting the signal to come inside. Ewan’s girlfriend, Isobel, AKA, world-famous violinist Elizabeth Duncan, who’d just finished her latest tour, picked up her instrument and began to play the chosen processional.

As best man, Hamish followed Connor to the front, trailed by Ewan. The doors at the back of the sanctuary opened, and the ladies began their walk down the aisle. Swayze came first. Then Kyla as matron of honor. It was a small and intimate wedding party, as Hamish’s own wedding to Dayna had been. But that was where the similarities ended. Where theirs had been a small but exclusive affair at a posh Edinburgh hotel, Connor and Sophie had invited the entire village. Tomorrow, this room would be bursting with friends and neighbors come to share in the joy. Their ceremony was bursting with tradition in a way his had not, and Hamish found himself envious.

Then the music shifted, and Angus appeared, Ciara on his arm. She was playing the role of stand-in bride for the rehearsal, with Sophie trailing behind to get a sense of the pacing. She made it to the front and took Connor’s arm. They beamed at each other, love bright enough to light the entire parish.

As Father Grant went over the order of the rest of the ceremony, Hamish struggled to pay attention. His mind was far away and long ago. He realized he’d done a magnificent job fooling himself into believing that what he’d had with Dayna was real. That it was good. That it was the same as what his friends had been blessed enough to find. But the truth was, he’d pulled the wool deliberately over his own eyes because he couldn’t have who he’d really wanted, and he’d thought he could will himself into loving Dayna as deeply as she deserved.

In the end, it hadn’t worked. And in an act just as reckless as Afton’s, Dayna had chosen her way out of the marriage through an affair that gave him unarguable grounds for a near immediate divorce.

Now he was free and full of regrets and realizations. He’d failed in his marriage, as he was failing in so many other areas. How could he have spent so much of his life feeling as if he was in control and on top of his game, only to end up here, surrounded by reminders of exactly how wrong he’d gotten it?

Except, he’d gotten Freya out of the deal. And he could never regret his daughter. Maybe he wasn’t meant for the whole love thing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be the best possible father for her. No matter how tough it got.

Father Grant clapped his hands. “Okay, I think everyone’s got it. See you all here tomorrow afternoon!”

With quick thanks to Father Grant, everyone started toward the door.

Hamish started to fall into step behind them, but Connor caught his eye, holding him back.

He put full focus on his friend, hoping he hadn’t missed something. “Everything okay?”