“Hold up. You’re a farmer, too?”
“Born and raised,” he elaborates, his voice carrying the weight of years spent in service to family and land. “I still lend a hand to my Pops most mornings, then take up teaching sailing in the afternoons.” The simplicity of his words, painting a picture of a life filled with hard work and familial dedication, momentarily soothes the sting of Brady’s betrayal.
The subtle lift of my eyebrows must give my surprise away because Cal’s lips curl into a teasing grin.
“A bit taken aback, are we?” he teases. “My parents own that hilltop farm—the one with the cow that seemed to take a liking to ye.”
“Wait… What?… That was your place?” I stutter out.
“Indeed,” he responds, his tone shifting to genuine regret.
“And about Buttercup, we’re truly, truly sorry. She’s never behaved like that before. After you dashed off, I made sure she was safely back in her stall.”
“Buttercup?” I can’t help but let out a snort at the name. “Well, that’s fitting,” I tease. “But how did you know it was me?”
Cal’s laughter ripples through the air. “Well, it’snot every day a Canadian sashays into a Highland field and… woos… my cows like you did,” he says playfully. “You stood out. Plus, word travels fast in small villages.”
“Oh no. You haven’t heard about Brady Reeves making me look like a complete nincompoop, have you?” I’m sure Inverness is too big, but I need to ask.
My question hangs in the air like a fragile bubble ready to burst. Then Cal shakes his head slightly. “I haven’t, but I find it hard to believe anyone could make ye look foolish, Amelia.” His words are heavy and meaningful, creating a charged silence between us.
“Well,” I admit in a whisper, “he made me feel like one.”
Cal must pick up on the slight wobble in my voice when I mention Brady’s name. He threads gentleness into his next question: “So, he wasn’t exactly your prince charming?” There’s an understanding in his tone that acknowledges the hurt without demanding details.
I offer a nod. “I was on the verge of hightailing it back home...” My voice trails off as I wave my hand vaguely at our surroundings.
“And yet,” he gently completes my thought, “instead of fleeing, you found solace here, in Rosewood Cottage.” His gaze is so electrifying that it sparks warmth throughout my body.
“So... that’s not so bad then,” he says with a flirtysmirk. I smile and sip my last splash of tea, trying not to look up at his eyes again.
“Ye know,” he begins again after a moment of silence. “It takes some serious grit to stick around Aven Valley after tangling with both heartbreak and Buttercup.”
He runs a hand over his scruffy chin. “Most would’ve thrown in the towel and bolted home. But you... you’re different. That’s something to be admired.”
“That’s... unexpectedly kind,” I admit, my words a soft murmur.
An unfamiliar tremor ripples through my heart. I’m on the verge of launching into my signature sarcasm, but I find myself pausing, teetering on this precipice between vulnerability and joy.
“Surely, though, it takes more than slippers and baked goods to heal a wounded heart,” Cal says.
His grin is pure infectious charm, the kind that should be accompanied by a flashing caution sign.
“So. Let’s go mingle with my cattle, lass,” he suggests, rising from his seat.
I cross my arms, skepticism weaving its way into my thoughts. “Hold on. The last time I encountered one of your barnyard friends, it nearly flattened me! Your plan doesn’t sound much more comforting than staying here, eating scones all morning.”
He leans in just enough for me to catch hisinviting scent—woodsy earth, spices, and a hint of salty sea breeze.
“Ah, but this time, you’ll have me as your guide. So you’re safe. And trust me, I’m far less crumbly and infinitely more captivating than any scone.”
A smirk tugs at my lips, but I bite down on them to keep from laughing out loud.
Oh, I’m willing to wager his buns are anything but crumbly. Probably more like firm, and astoundingly lickable.
“And,” he throws in with a dash of theatrical confidence, “no one else can show ye the enchanting secrets of these Highlands quite like Yours Truly.”
Unable to hide my amusement any longer, his words pull a soft chuckle from me. “Well, perhaps a tour of this quaint town is just the spark my imagination needs.”
