‘Stevie? No, Stevie’s no wolf.’ Hunter chuckles, grabbing the beast by its collar. ‘He’s just a pup. He gets a bit too excited when he meets someone new. Don’t you, Stevie?’
He ruffles the creature’s neck, and I look at them both doubtfully. Stevie looks way too big to be a ‘pup’, while Hunter is tall and muscular, with the kind of rugged good looks that makes him seem like exactly the kind of man who might keep a wolf as a pet.
I grip my phone tightly in my pocket, very aware that I’m about to get into a car on my own with this stranger – and his wolf – in the middle of what appears to be the exact middle of nowhere.
‘Your .?.?. your dog’s name’s Stevie?’ I ask, feeling like this is probably a safer question than,Are you planning to abduct me and have yourwicked way with me?which is what Ireallywant to ask him.
‘Aye. Well, it’s actually Stephen, but that’s his Sunday name,’ he replies with a grin. ‘So I just call him Stevie. Anyway, we best get going; they’ll be expecting you back at the hotel by now. I was starting to think you must have missed the train or something.’
‘Yeah, I, er, got locked in the toilet,’ I admit. ‘With half a bag of Haribo.’
‘Right. I see,’ says Hunter, looking about as impressed by this nugget of information as you might expect. ‘Well, let me take your bag then, and I’ll get it into the car. Oh.’
He pauses, looking down at the collection of luggage I’ve brought with me, which includes one suitcase, and all of the other bags I could possibly find.
‘Well, you definitely don’t travel light, do you?’ he says, throwing the suitcase effortlessly over his shoulder and swooping the rest of the bags up in one arm. ‘Or were you planning to stay all summer?’
He turns and strides off down the platform to where I can see a beat-up old Land Rover waiting for us.
‘No, just the four days,’ I reply, having to jog to keep up with him. My stomach gives a painful little lurch at the reminder that four days is exactly how long I have to change my life. ‘I’m just here for the press stay. Four days, then the launch party at the end, the invitation said?’
‘That’s what they tell me,’ Hunter confirms, reaching the car and putting my bags inside. ‘Right. Well, jump in then,’ he adds, opening the passenger-side door for me. ‘It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. I’m more used to transporting plants than people, but I was the only person available to meet this train, so you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.’
He grins again, and my mouth goes dry.
‘Oh, that’s .?.?. that’sfine,’ I reply, clambering inelegantly into the car, and wishing I’d worn something a little more practical than the dress and sandals that seemed like theperfecttravel outfit at home, but which are hopelessly out of place next to Hunter’s jeans and work boots. ‘I’m happy to be stuck to you.Withyou. Um, I mean, thanks for picking me up.’
Hunter’s lips quirk slightly. ‘No bother,’ he says, starting the engine.
I sit there silently as we pull away from the little station and out into a narrow road, which is lined on each side with gorse bushes covered with beautiful little bright yellow flowers. I’d expected Scotland to be cold and dark – especially this far north – but the sky above us is bright blue, and the sun seems nowhere near setting, even though it must be close to dinnertime by now.
‘So, you’re a gardener?’ I say, the vivid yellow of the gorse reminding me of Hunter’s earlier comment.
‘Among other things,’ he replies. ‘I do whatever needs doing. The plants are the bit I like most, though. They don’t expect anything from me, except for me to look after them. And you’re aninfluencer?’ he adds, giving the word an emphasis that suggests he thinks it’s made up.
‘Um, yes, that’s right,’ I reply, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. ‘I’m here to cover the launch of the hotel, and get some photos and videos of it before it opens. I think there’s a few of us here this week?’
I think of the email that popped into my inbox unexpectedly, just a few days ago, my stomach lurching again with something that could be either guilt or excitement – or possibly just the results of the speed at which we’re hurtling down this impossibly winding road.
Your transformation is about to begin!the message said, in perky, PR speak.You and a group of other lucky influencers have been hand-selected to attend the exclusive pre-launch event at the Chrysalis Resort and Spa in the beautiful Scottish Highlands. Come and join us on a life-changing journey of reinvention!
Well, I mean, how could I say no?
‘Aye,’ says Hunter, and this time there’s no mistaking the hint of disapproval in his tone. ‘The rest have already arrived. They all had a lot of luggage, too. I think you’re the winner, though. I can tell you like shopping.’
He gives a dry chuckle and jerks his head towards the back of the car, where Stevie the wolf is sitting slobbering next to my many bags, looking almost as if he’s laughing at me. Theybothlook like they’re laughing at me, actually; a realisation that takes me right back to high school, and the time I walked out of the girls’ bathroom with my skirt tucked into my knickers.
‘I do like shopping,’ I say, with as much dignity as I can muster given that I’m clinging onto the grab handle for dear life as we bounce along the single-track road at a speed that makes me wonder what’ll happen if we meet someone coming in the opposite direction. ‘It’s .?.?. well, it’s my happy place. Shops, I mean.’
I don’t bother telling him I feel like this because every shop I enter has the potential to change my life; that I’m always just one purchase away from becoming a whole new ‘me’ – a version of myself that stood up to the school bullies, and went on to become a raving success at .?.?. something I haven’t quite figured out yet.
Someone whose boyfriend absolutely wouldnothave chosen to dump on her birthday three weeks ago, having first of all stood her up at her own party.
I’m definitely not telling him that bit.
‘Yourhappy place?’ Hunter says, speaking in an ‘I’ve seen it all now’ kind of tone that makes my shoulders tighten in indignation. ‘Ashop?’
‘Yes, ashop,’ I reply, my instinct to defend myself triggered by the amusement in his voice. ‘And I suppose yours is the top of a mountain, or . . . or the middle of a lake or something?’
