That’s the other thing about Struan: total flirt. He hugged me like we were old friends when I arrived, grinning wide. Gorgeous, sure, but he doesn’t do it for me. Maybe instead of flirty and in-your-face, I prefer my Scots grumpy and complicated. Preferably in a ferry captain’s uniform.
Seriously, brain?That’s where you go? Considering how that grumpy Scot’s been treating me, I really shouldn’t find him attractive. Not even remotely.
“How much do I owe you, Struan?” I ask, forcing myself back to the here and now.
“Don’t be daft.” He drops into a chair. “Fair warning, you’ll want sugar. The coffee’s dire.”
He isn’t wrong. One sip nearly makes me gag, and I’m diving for the sugar. God. Nothing like the coffee at the Lighthouse Café.
“So,” Struan says, “what do you think of our five-star establishment?”
I glance around. “It’s... lively. The kids seem to love it.”
Struan gives me a look that says he knows I’m being diplomatic.
Douglas chuckles. “This place certainly takes a bit of getting used to. But when your kids are wee and it’s dreich outside, it helps keep you sane.” A rogue plastic ball from the pit bounces off his head; he doesn’t even flinch. “Well, sane-ish.”
We spend the next twenty minutes enduring dreadful coffee while making up for it with the treats Struan brought over: shortbread and “snowballs”, chocolate-coated marshmallow puffs rolled in coconut. The kids swoop in and out, pausing only long enough to sip from juice boxes before tearing off again.
In one of the pit stops, I finally meet Isla properly. She marches over with her chin up, tawny curls bobbing, and says, “Hi, I’m Isla. Finn says you’re the American nanny.” While her dad pricks her finger, she explains, very matter-of-fact, that she has diabetes and he’s checking her sugars.
In between the kids’ flyby visits, I learn what the dads do. Douglas is a fisherman in a line of fishermen going back generations. Struan runs Walker Builds, a construction firm, with his father. Back home, it feels rare for work to be passed down like that. Here, it seems woven into the fabric of the place.
Then Finn’s voice carries across the play zone. He’s perched at the top of the fire pole, grinning like a daredevil. “Blair, watch me do this!” He shoots down in one quick blur.
“Great job, buddy!” I give him a thumbs-up. He beams then vanishes back into the chaos.
“You and Finn are hitting it off,” Douglas observes.
“Finn’s great,” I say.Unlike his grumpy father, I add silently.
Struan stretches his long legs out in front of him, his grin lazy. “You know, I’m the one you should be thanking for landing this nanny job.”
I blink at him. “Excuse me?”
He spreads his hands. “I’m the one who suggested Lachlan put out an ad for a nanny.” He quirks a brow. “So? How’s it been living in close quarters with the man himself and having Lachlan as a boss?”
I take a bracing sip. Tastes like regret and burnt rubber. Am I supposed to lie? Is it wildly inappropriate to rant about yourboss behind their back? Then again, it’s also inappropriate for your boss to be unfairly dismissive and snarky.
“Honestly? It hasn’t exactly been easy.” I roll the mug between my palms. “And I know this is unprofessional, but... he’s just so moody all the time.” God, it feels good to admit it out loud. And apparently I’m not done because the next words tumble out too: “You both seem normal enough. How do you put up with him?”
Struan and Douglas exchange a look.
“Maybe his grumpiness has something to do with a very pretty young American suddenly living in his back garden.” Struan grins and waggles his eyebrows meaningfully.
I snort before I can stop myself. Still, my stomach flips at the idea. “Right. If he liked me, he’d actually talk to me like a human being instead of brushing me off.”
As Granny would’ve put it, I’m simply not the man’s cup of tea.
“Lachlan’s always been private,” Douglas offers. “Work, home, his boy, his dog. That’s his world. Other than these Pit meetups, he’s not really integrated since he moved here. Maybe the gruffness is just him adjusting to someone new in his space.”
Right, so he’s private. Likes his own space. Still doesn’t give him the right to be rude.
“Maybe you could coax him out more,” Struan suggests brightly. “You know... socialise the beast.”
Inwardly, I scoff. Yeah, definitely not in my job description.
I’m saved from replying when pandemonium erupts, courtesy of the twins. Rosie ignores the golden rule of one-off-one-on and barrels down the slide on Isla’s heels, colliding with her and bumping the glucose monitor on her arm. At the same time Logan decides to scale the jungle gym from the outside and manages to wedge his foot straight through the netting.
