I wasn’t usually attracted to older men.
But now I didn’t know why because this man was more man than I’d ever encountered in my life.
“I’m twenty-seven,” I replied to have something to say so I didn’t blurt out how sexy I found him.
“I know.” He chewed on another bite of pasta and looked down at Akiva who sat by his chair, eyes round with begging. “No, sweetheart. You’ll get something later.”
He called his dogsweetheart.
This man was trying to kill me.
“What’s your favorite book?” I asked, changing the subject.
Ramsay took one last massive bite, chewed while not quite meeting my eyes, and stood. Finally he said, “Dunno.” He dumped his plate in the sink. “Just put your plate here when you’re finished. I’ll be in my workshop if you need me. I’ll be back at eleven to take you over.”
The man was gone before I was finished gaping in astonishment at his abrupt departure.
I looked at Akiva, and she stared back at me expectantly. “Has he always been the human version of whiplash?”
I could have sworn Akiva gave me a commiserating jerk of her snout.
Sure enough, Ramsay stayed away for the rest of the evening.
Bored, I’d washed and dried the dishes. I’d also gone out to ask about Akiva’s dinner and Ramsay hadn’t even looked up from the rocking chair when he provided me with her feeding instructions.
The rest of the night, Akiva and I lazed on the couch. I finished my book (therewasa good grovel) and then I ran the battery down on my phone playing solitaire until my eyes blurred. I tried to connect to the internet because according to my phone, there was a network. But it was private so I couldn’t connect without a password. A thorough search of the house revealed no router so I could only assume my phone was picking up networks from Leth Sholas.
How Ramsay survived over here without the internet, I did not know. Connection on the island wasn’t the strongest, but it did the job. Here on Stòr, there was nothing. How did people contact Ramsay? How did he work with clients when he was so unreachable? Other than the VHF radio, the man had no way of communicating with people from his island.
I, of course, wanted to ask him about it, but I was still stung by the way he’d walked out after dinner. There was being a man of mystery and then there was just being a dick.
By ten fifty I had my backpack together and I’d already hugged Akiva goodbye. I stepped out onto the porch, car keys at the ready, and stopped, contemplating letting Ramsay know I was leaving. Despite his rudeness, he had let me stay in his house and he’d fed me. He wasn’t all bad.
Sighing, I moved along the lighted porch toward the barn and startled to a stop when the tall Scot stepped out of his workshop. He took long strides toward me. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I was going to let you know I was leaving.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“Really, there’s no need. You’ve done enough.”
“I’ll follow you,” he said, his tone brokering no argument as he brushed by me on the porch. His earthy, musky scent caused this weird fluttering in my chest. “Just let me grab my keys.”
Stubborn yeti.
I made my way down to my car, eyes wide in the dark. I was barely in it when Ramsay reappeared again, Akiva at his heels. They jumped into his Defender with ease, and I did a three-point turn, driving out of the woodlands first. It took me a second in the dark to remember where I was supposed to turn, but thankfully, I made the correct choice. I had a feeling Ramsay already thought I was a useless nepo baby (and was now concerned the town did too), I didn’t want him thinking I was also directionally challenged.
Ramsay kept close behind me, his headlights kind of glaring, actually. But I made it to the causeway. There was still a little water but not enough to stop me from driving right onto it.
I frowned at the sight of Ramsay following me across.
Where the hell was he going?
Leth Sholas was quiet at this time of night. The only commercial building lit up was the volunteer lifeboat service building at the end of the main harbor road. There was no parking on the harbor front, other than in the designated tourist parking lots, so I drove down a side street that led me to the back of the apartment block that overlooked Half-Light Harbor. I was renting a guest apartment from Aodhan MacDuff, one of the local councilmen and property owners. He had quite a few rental properties across Glenvulin.
Parking was tight behind the apartment, but my spot was empty. Even with the beam of Ramsay’s headlights trying to fluster me, I swung the Suzuki around and reversed back into the space. Ramsay’s Defender sat in the entrance of the parking lot.
Hmm.
