4

Lachlan

The rain is still pelting down on the slate roof of the pub, and I shake off as much of the water clinging to my jacket and hair as I can before stepping through the door of The Clever Pech. It’s a bit emptier inside than I thought it would be on a Friday afternoon—no one but auld Fergus doing a crossword in his resident corner booth and the twins chattering behind the bar inside. Blair notices me as I come in, elbowing Rory and gesturing my way just before Rory bellows out a greeting.

“Oi! There he is. Pissin’ down out there, is it? You look soaked to the bone, mate.”

“Aye,” I offer back, shuffling across the old wooden floor to slide onto one of the stools at the bar. “Bloody freezing too.”

Blair nods toward the shelf behind her. “You want your usual, then, eh?”

“Please,” I answer.

I grew up with Blair and Rory Campbell before moving away after my granny died, and despite the years between then and my move back earlier in the year—the bond between us didn’t diminish in the slightest. But that could partly be because the twins are borderline insane, and they adopt people like stray cats. They’re both tall, not quite my height but close, and their matching platinum hair is a shade so light, it appears silver under the sun. But their good looks are just a front for the slightly unhinged personalities beneath—personalities that got me into trouble on more than one occasion in my youth.

I run my fingers through the damp strands of my hair as Blair sets about making me a drink, and I tip my head back toward Fergus. “How’s your da today?”

“Same as usual,” Rory snorts. He raises his voice to shout, “Bloody useless, that’s what he is!”

Fergus just raises a middle finger, taking another large gulp of his whiskey.

Rory shakes his head. “Drunken arse. We should ban him from the place.”

“His name is still on the deed,” Blair pipes up as she finishes pouring me three fingers of Johnny Walker. She slides the glass across the bar, leaning to rest on her elbows. “Maybe we could convince Lach here to…you know…”

I cock a brow as I bring the glass to my lips. “To what?”

“You know,” Rory stresses, dragging his index finger across his throat.

I roll my eyes, taking a swig from my glass before setting it back down on the bar. “I’m not killing your da, you numpty.” I glance around at the empty bar. “Slow afternoon?”

“Aye,” Rory sighs. “People act like they’ll drown from a wee bit of rain.”

My thoughts flit to the angry expression of one fair American as I threatened her with said rain, and the corner of my mouth tilts up without my permission before I quickly tuck it away.

Blair leans in, lowering her voice. “So how goes the hunt?”

“Not so loud,” I hiss, turning around to look behind me out of habit.

Rory scoffs. “Who are you thinking might hear? Fergus? I could plot my da’s entire demise right here at this bar and the auld stoater would be none the wiser.” He raises his voice again. “He should sign the bar over before he does something useful like keel over!”

“Piss off,” Fergus calls back, still focused on his crossword.

“Bastard,” Rory mutters before turning his attention back to me. “Come on, mate. You’ve been living on the MacKay farm for six months now. You really haven’t found anything?”

I shake my head, sighing. “Nothing.”

“I’ll never believe Rhona doesn’t know something,” Blair hums.

“She’s aulder than our da, and he’s ancient. That woman knows more than she lets on. It’s in the eyes.” Rory points his index and middle fingers toward his own eyes for emphasis. “You can tell.”

“Well, when I learn how to read eyes, I’ll let you know.”

“How’s it been since that eejit Brodie came to stay?” Rory asks.

“Wanker tried to come on to me a few weeks ago,” Blair says with a shudder. “Creepy fucker. Rhona must know he’s after the farm, yeah? Why else would he show up out of nowhere after not visiting for years?”

“He’s the least of their problems,” I mumble as I take another drink.

Not that he hasn’t been a thorn in my side ever since I arrived. I’ve known Brodie MacKay since we were lads, and we never really got on.

Rory cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, the MacKays have some long-lost granddaughter that’s just shown up out of the blue,” I tell them.

Rory’s and Blair’s matching brows shoot up.

“Does that—”

“You mean—”

“Aye,” I sigh. “A daughter of MacKay.”

“Your da always said—”

I shake my head. “My da said a lot of things. It could be nothing.”

“Seems a hell of a lot to be nothing,” Blair notes.

I eye my drink, shrugging one shoulder as I add quietly, “Duncan was her da.”

“Duncan? Bloody hell, he’s been gone for, what, three decades?”

“Nearly,” I agree. “Keyanna is twenty-seven, she said.”

Blair’s eyes take on a curious gleam. “Keyanna, aye? So you met her?”

“Found her crawling over the rocks at Skallangal,” I say with a scowl. “Came this close to falling right on her arse if I hadn’t snatched her back.” I shake my head, frowning into my whiskey glass. “Americans, I swear. Signs all over, but of course that means nothing. Traipsing all over the shore like she owns the place, then had the nerve to shout at me for saving her arse!”

Rory whistles. “Oh, boy. The MacKay lass has gotten under our poor Lach’s skin.”

“Seems that way,” Blair agrees.

“She’s done no such thing,” I huff. “She’s just a complication, that’s all. One more nose I have to keep out of my business while I look for my answers.”

“And what does Rhona think of this long-lost granddaughter? My da told us once about the falling-out between her and Duncan. Said it wasn’t pretty.”

I think back to Rhona’s porch in the rain, remembering the lost look on Key’s face and the desperation in her eyes as she pleaded with Rhona to give her a chance. The sympathy I feel is annoying; I have no business feeling anything toward a MacKay besides suspicion. I blame how bonnie she is. Looking at Brodie for the last few months did not give me any sort of inclination that any offspring of the MacKay clan would look like that. It’s just as annoying as the sympathy I unwillingly feel for her.

“Rhona didn’t take to her well,” I say finally. “But she did let her stay.”

“That’s sure to put a kink in your plans,” Rory points out.

I snort. “You think?”

“Och,” Blair says with a sniff. “You’ve not found anything in all this time. Maybe there’s nothing to be found.”

I shoot her a sharp look. “You know why I can’t accept that.”

She looks properly chastised, lowering her eyes as her mouth turns down. “Right. I’m sorry. You know I talk without thinking.”

“Are you okay?” Blair asks.

I cock one eyebrow. “What?”

“I just…I know your da and Duncan were close, and I know when he left—”

I wave her off. “I’m fine. S’not like I really knew the man. I can barely remember him.”

I bitterly think that the same could be said for my father.

“Maybe you can recruit her,” Rory suggests.

My brow wrinkles. “Come off it.”

“She’s a veritable stranger, aye? But she’s got an in with the family. Maybe she’d be willing to help you out if you just—”

“You two knowing my business is more than enough,” I cut him off with a slightly bitter tone. “I’m doing good just to keep you two from blathering on about it.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Blair grumbles.

“Not on purpose,” I counter. I hook a thumb at Rory. “Get this one good and steamin’, and we both know there’s nary a topic he won’t yammer on about.”

“That’s fair,” Rory laughs. “But I’ve done good so far.”

“Thank Christ for that,” I say with a chuffed laugh. Then my brow knits. “Besides, I can’t rule out that her being here is a bad omen.”

“You really believe some auld poem?” Rory’s nose wrinkles. “Not a very good one at that. How did it go again?”

I heave a sigh, readying myself to repeat the words I’d heard over and over growing up, but a bell sounding behind us has me turning in my seat, and after the initial frown that touches my lips at the sight of Brodie’s familiar and irritating visage, there is a punch of surprise when I see wild red curls bouncing in after him surrounding delicate cheekbones and fair, freckled skin and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Bloody hell,” Blair says a bit too loudly. “Who’s that?”

“My newest complication,” I murmur back.

Blair hums appreciatively. “I’d let her complicate me any day.”

“You’re no worse than a man,” Rory tsks. “You know that?”

“You lot had centuries of being lecherous bastards,” she says primly. “It’s all about equality now, mate.”

They’re still bickering behind me, but the sound of it fades away a bit when Key’s eyes find mine studying her. Her mouth parts in surprise as she noticeably stops listening to whatever Brodie is saying to her, her body visibly bristling at the sight of me. Which, for some reason, elicits a smile from me, and I raise my glass in her direction in a mock toast.

Brodie must notice then that he’s lost her attention, because his eyes follow the line of her sight, frowning when he sees me sitting at the bar. He shuffles inside with Key in tow, giving me a wary look as he offers a threadbare greeting. I can’t say what I did to the man, given that we barely speak, but he’s made it clear on more than one occasion that he doesn’t care for me. Since the feeling is mostly mutual—I’m happy to leave the situation unsorted.

“Lachlan,” he says curtly.

I nod my head. “Brodie.” I turn my head away, finding Key’s eyes again, noticing the wariness there as she regards me, like she’s unsure of how I’ll be after everything that transpired today. “Leo’s fixed your car,” I tell her. “He’s going to drop it off in the morning.”

“I know,” she says. “We just came from there.”

I quirk a brow. “Didn’t trust me to get the job done, princess?”

“I don’t even know you,” she says irritably.

My mouth tilts at the corners. “And yet you’ve already decided you don’t like me.” I clutch at my heart. “You wound me.”

“You called me stupid within ten seconds of meeting you.”

“Is that what you’re so riled about? I was only pointing out how…unwise it was to ignore many signs warning you to not do exactly what you were doing.”

“Well, you didn’t have to play the ‘I own the place’ card just to chase me off.”

“You didn’t,” Blair tuts. “That was an arsehole move, Lach.”

Key throws out her hand in triumph. “See?”

“Don’t worry,” Blair says sweetly, extending her hand. “We’re not all a bunch of wankers here in Greerloch.”

Key takes it, shaking it lightly and flashing a smile in Blair’s direction, and I think to myself that it must be the first time I’ve seen it. Because I would remember it had she given it before. Hell, it might as well be imprinting itself on my brain in real time. Her smile changes her already pretty face to something breathtaking—straight white teeth with the two front ones just slightly longer than the rest and somehow making her smile all the more endearing.

I curse my own train of thought. I do not care about Keyanna MacKay’s smile.

“Careful,” I warn Key as I finish off my drink. “She’s taking your side because she thinks you’re bonnie.”

“I’m taking her side because you’re a right arse,” Blair argues. She winks at Key. “Not that I don’t think you’re bonnie.”

Keyanna’s fair skin pinkens with a blush, and something sharp pokes at the insides of my chest. My jaw works, not having time to really assess the feeling since Brodie chooses that moment to chime in.

“Key has had a hard day,” he says. “I reckon she needs a pint or two to wash it away.” He glances at me pointedly. “She’s dealt with all sorts of unpleasantness since she arrived.”

“Och,” Rory scoffs. “And then she had to climb into a car with you? Definitely be needing a pint.”

Brodie’s cheeks go ruddy, but I catch Key’s mouth twitching with a smile before she schools it away. Perhaps she’s not as charmed by her new cousin as he’d like her to be, then. I can’t say why that pleases me. Probably because sometimes he looks at me like I’m a bug on his shoe.

Brodie takes that moment to excuse himself, saying something about hitting the head. I can’t say I hope he makes any hurry to return.

“We heard you made a trip to Nessie’s cove today,” Blair says, continuing to chat up Key as Rory busies himself making the newcomer’s drinks. “You here on the hunt, then?”

I give Blair as surreptitious a glare as I can manage, but she ignores me.

“Oh, well…” Key shuffles, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Not exactly.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, love,” Blair says sweetly. “We’ve all climbed over those rocks a time or two around here.” She smirks in my direction. “Even before Grandpa here came to spoil the fun.”

“S’not safe,” I mumble, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Tell me, mate,” Blair barrels on, ignoring me. “What had you climbing the rocks? The auld man is right; it’s not exactly safe without a good pair of wellies with a strong grip. Even then, you could hurt yourself.”

“I…” She bites her lip, and for a moment, I find my eyes drawn to the press of her teeth against the soft flesh—something that I quickly shake myself out of. “My dad told me stories.” She says this quietly, almost like she’s embarrassed. “He died recently, and he asked me before he went to scatter his ashes there.”

My brows shoot up in surprise, and a memory pings, one of her clutching that black vase so tightly, and for the first time today, I do feel like an arse. Regardless of my feelings about her da and what he might or might not have been to my own father, I know what it feels to mourn the loss of someone so prominent in your life.

“You didn’t say,” I blurt out, feeling chastened and defensive all at once. “Why not?”

Her mouth forms a tight line. “It’s not exactly a conversation for two strangers in which one of the strangers is telling the other one how stupid she is.”

Bloody hell. I did do that. Knowing what she was there for, it does feel much harsher now. Especially since I can’t ignore the current pang of emotion in my chest as my thoughts wander to my own predicament, knowing her grief all too well.

Maybe I really am an arse.

I frown at my feet, which rest against the scuffed wood floor beneath my stool. “It was a much better reason than silly curiosity,” I tell her. “I might have been a bit more accommodating had you said.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she snorts.

Rory slides two pints across the bar. “She’s got your number, Lach.” He also shoots her a wink. “He’s not so bad. Deep down.” He eyes me briefly. “Deep, deep down.”

This elicits a giggle from Key, and the sound of it sets off another sharp sensation in my chest. The fuck is that about?

“If it’s Nessie you’re after,” Blair says seriously, “I’d suggest you make a trip to Loch Land. It’s just a few miles down the road from here.”

My brows furrow, wondering what Blair is on about. Surely she knows—

“Loch Land?” Key asks.

“Oh, aye,” Blair tells her. “It’s the best place for information on Nessie. It’s a museum of sorts.”

“Really?” Keyanna looks intrigued, and I almost want to tell her the truth. Almost. “And you said it’s not far?”

“Not at all,” Blair assures her. “I can even get you a map. They left some of those tourist leaflets at some point. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere…”

“Has this place been around for a while? Do you think my dad went?”

“Oh, definitely,” Rory joins in, apparently getting in on Blair’s fun. “At some point, I’m sure. We’ve all been.”

Key beams at the pair of them. “That would be great. I’d like to see all the places he might have seen when he lived here.”

Fucking hell. Now I really do feel like an arse. I peek over at Rory and Blair, but they show no signs of revealing their little game, and I know doing so myself would give Keyanna the impression that we might be friends of some sort, and that’s absolutely not on the table for us. Not when she’s a MacKay. It’s hard enough playing nice with Rhona as it is.

So I keep silent, telling myself it doesn’t make me an arsehole. I’m not the one taking the piss with her.

“Here we are,” Blair calls, riffling out a leaflet from beneath the bar and slapping it in front of Key. “This will get you there.”

The leaflet is pretty innocuous—just a picture of the very misleading front of the building with a small map below it, and I once again have to force myself not to say anything. Let the lass chase her own tail for a day. It’ll keep her out of my hair.

“This is great,” Key says earnestly. “Thank you. I’ll drive out tomorrow if the weather is better.”

“You do that,” Blair hums. “And best not tell your cousin, yeah?” She leans in conspiratorially. “Not really the adventuring type, Brodie.”

Key’s cheeks take on that sweet shade of pink again, and she bites her lip as she glances around to make sure the cousin in question isn’t in earshot. “He said he works for the Inverness Historical Society, though. He probably knows a lot more than me.”

“He’s a bloody numpty,” Rory chuffs. “I promise you don’t want him coming with you. Can’t take a joke to save his life, that one.”

Brodie appears in the hallway entry to the bathrooms, and the group of us quiets down, but I notice Keyanna tuck the leaflet into her pocket, just as I notice she doesn’t say a word about it when Rory starts in on Brodie about something or another.

I cock an eyebrow when she notices I’ve caught this, rolling her eyes when I smirk, but I have a feeling she won’t be saying a word to dear old cousin Brodie about her trip tomorrow.

It almost makes me feel bad for keeping quiet about Rory and Blair’s fun.

Almost.