The truth is, I’ve barely seen Alec all week. He’s avoiding me. He’s afield before I wake up, and he goes to bed well after I’m asleep. He doesn’t eat meals with us, and I never see him around the farmhouse. He’s always working.
Part of me gets it. Work on Lochview has been intense, with villagers coming by every day to help repair the damaged barn. When he was in London, Alec told me that he was going to fight for me. Now that we’re back on the farm, he isn’t bothering with me at all.
It’s not surprising. But it does hurt. And I know it means that when the council’s response comes through, I’m going to have to leave. I’m not going to stay here and be ignored by him. I need to go home and sort my own shit out.
We finally get the verdict on Wednesday afternoon. I’m in the chicken coop, trying to coax a pale-blue egg from under a broody hen, when I hear a noise behind me. I turn to see Cameron leaning against the wall, holding a paper bag.
“Hi,” I say, dusting my hands off on my heart-patterned tank top. This time, when I packed to come to Scotland, I picked out more sensible farm clothes. My suitcases are full of cardigans, yoga pants, and flats.
And, okay, the odd frilly miniskirt. And maybe a few summer dresses. And a lot of accessories. And my top shimmer eyeshadow palettes. And several pairs of heels.
But most importantly, everything is comfortable, and absolutely nothing is brown. I’m putting my foot down on theneutral trend and intend to live in glitter and pastels until the day I die. I’m sick of wearing clothes that I don’t like.
Cameron lifts the bag. “This came for you.”
“What?” I cross the coop to him, and he hands me the bag. I pull out a bundle of fabric. It’s a gorgeous cable-knit jumper, dyed a soft petal pink. The wool is soft as a kitten. I can’t resist stroking it against my cheek. “This isgorgeous.”
“’S our own cashmere blend,” he says roughly, watching me. “Softest we got this year. Paid one of the ladies in the village to knit it up for you.”
My heart swells. “Youcommissioned me a jumper?” I yank it on, luxuriating in the fluffy warmth against my skin. “You didn’t have to.”
He shrugs. “You said some fabrics irritate you. Figured you can’t get softer than our cashmere. It’s important you’re comfortable.” He reaches out and lightly touches my earring. “Love you,” he says roughly.
I blush horrendously. Cameron and Fraser both tell me they love me several times a day, and I get physically dizzy every time.
I put the bag down and hug him. He holds me against his chest, breathing slowly. We stand in the quiet coop, our bodies pressed together.
“Hello?” I hear a voice from outside the coop. “Anyone in here?” The door shoves open, and Isla sticks her head inside. “Oh, hello, lovebirds. I know, I know, you’re not together, you just love gazing longingly at each other.”
Cameron tightens his grip on me. “What do you want?” he grumbles, obviously annoyed at the interruption.
She jams a thumb over her shoulder. “Car just pulled up outside. Council logo on the side.”
I stand straighter. Oh God. It’s time. We’re finally going to get an answer. Cameron sighs and takes my hand. “Let’s get this over with.”
We climb the hill back to the farmhouse. When we reach the top, we see two men in suits arguing with Fraser in the driveway.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know where he is,” Fraser says, arms crossed like a bouncer.
“We’ve been given instructions to only speak to Mr Gray,” one of the councilmen says stuffily.
“Aye, well, you’ll be waiting then, won’t you? If you just—” Fraser notices me and cuts himself off. “London!” He picks me up and spins me around, completely ignoring the exasperated look on the councilmen’s faces. “Aw, you look so pretty. I love when you dress like a macaron.”
“Thanks,” I say, cheeks flaming. “Um, what’s going on?”
Fraser sighs heavily. “These twolovelygentlemen are here to see Alec, but the bastard’s gone AWOL, and they refuse to leave a message. So I guess we all just have to stand here on the road until three a.m., which is about when Alec finishes work.”
“He’s not answering his phone?”
“Nope. We’ve all tried calling him.” He thinks. “Actually, hang on. Why don’tyoucall him?”
I’m taken aback. “Me?” He’s ignored me all week. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to talk to me.
Fraser nods. “Aye. Give him a ring.”
“Okay.” I dubiously pull my phone out of my pocket. My call log is full of missed calls from my mum. She’s been ringing me multiple times a day, but I haven’t had it in me to answer. I know she must be furious with me for my latest scandal, and I’m sad enough as is.
I hit Alec’s contact. “But why would he pick up for me and not for you? If he’s busy?—”
