The group consisted of two men and one woman. They wore stiff cargo trousers and sturdy pocketed vests in a motley of browns, greens, and a smattering of camo. Their heavy-duty work boots were caked in both mud and snow, like they’d already been on a long hike that morning. Big rucksacks and a long duffel bag were stacked against the wall. Extreme weather campers, maybe? They looked the hardcore type.
Lachlan laced an arm round Cam’s waist when he next entered the kitchen. He held out a thin slice of golden ginger cake. ‘Try this for me, would you? I changed the recipe and want to know if it’s okay before I set it out front.’
Cam grinned and took hold of the mouthful by his teeth. He chewed thoughtfully, detecting a dark treacly flavour mixed into the familiar stem ginger. ‘Tastes great,’ he said, swallowing. ‘Not as sweet as before. Or, sweet in a different kind of way.’
Lachlan frowned. ‘Is that good or bad?’
Cam laughed and kissed his nose. ‘Who cares, if it tastes the way you like it?’
‘Except the wayIlike it is considerably more savoury,’ Lachlan replied, moving to the sink to wash his hands. ‘It’s useful having someone around with modern taste buds. I often get the sugar ratios wrong.’
Cam slid up to his side and nodded to the café door. ‘Any idea who the odd lot out there are? I don’t think they’ve even ordered anything yet.’
‘Which lot?’
‘Come on, the group in camo and wannabe-military gear. The ones who look like they do trout fishing as an extreme sport, and as if the trout could fight back.’
‘Not far off.’ Lachlan’s smile quirked. ‘They’re monster hunters.’
Cam nearly dropped the plate he was filling. ‘Monster hunters?What the hell are they hunting?’
Lachlan gave him a long, slow look that communicated, with the slight raise of an eyebrow and twitch to his smile,Are you kidding me?
‘They’re huntingyou?’ Cam said, aghast. The thought flipped his stomach, making him feel sick. He thought of the large scar on Lachlan’s abdomen, which he’d said had been from a harpoon. Suddenly Cam’s mind was filled with visions of nets and dart guns.
Lachlan rolled his eyes, picking up the platter of new ginger cake and heading for the door. ‘Relax. I’ve met them. They came in last week, scoping out the area. They’re just the usual cryptid-seekers with too much time on their hands. They’re not even tryingthathard to find me.’ He threw a sly grin over his shoulder at Cam while he pushed open the door. ‘Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve ever been hunted, is it?’
He slipped into the café, leaving Cam turning red behind him.Was that supposed to make me feel better?Cam thought ruefully. He still harboured some deep embarrassment for how he’d first dragged Lachlan out of the loch. How he had, yes, technically,huntedhim. But the thought of anyone else being on Lachlan’s trail made him incredibly uneasy… even if Lachlan appeared totally unconcerned by the prospect.
His gaze landed on the magnets covering Lachlan’s fridge. An array of souvenirs he’d been gifted by friendly customers over the years. There was more than one Loch Ness Monster magnet among them, several with a grinning green Nessie wearing a tartan hat, no less.
Of course, he’s used to it,Cam chided himself.What was I expecting, dating the monster equivalent of a celebrity?
He finished loading up the plate in his hand and re-entered the bustling café. ‘Here’s your buttery, Shona,’ he said, setting it down in front of her.
‘Bless you, Cam,’ Shona replied, snapping out of some contemplative daydream where she’d been staring out the window. ‘And Happy New Year!’
‘Thank you. And to you, too,’ Cam returned a little awkwardly. He’d never been wished a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year by so many people before hanging around The Lucky Teapot.
He went to join Lachlan behind the counter, where he was artfully repositioning cakes and biscuits inside their glass display. Cam passed him the cake slice and felt the self-conscious prickle of eyes turning their way.
The bell dinged over the café door again.
‘More?’ Cam said in disbelief. ‘I don’t think there’s enough space…’
He glanced up and locked eyes with the last person he’d expected to see.
‘Bryce?’ he said faintly.
A tall man with broad shoulders and arms like tree roots, Bryce’s presence dominated the room. He was somewhere in his fifties, with neat but greying hair and a handsome beard speckled with flecks of white. His voice boomed across the café. ‘Cam?’
Cam felt Lachlan stiffen beside him. He quickly straightened, assessing the newcomer as he strode loudly towards them, boots clomping on the tiles.
‘Well, I never! Itisyou.’ Bryce blew out a low whistle on reaching the counter, his eyes flicking once to Cam’s lilac apron. ‘What’re you doing out here, lad?’
Cam’s face heated, a million thoughts going through his head at once. ‘I’m— I— I work here.’
‘Ohhh?’ Bryce’s voice held a long, disbelieving inflection, loud enough to carry across the entire café. ‘You packed it in with bikes to come work in a teashop?’
