He shook his head. “You’re perfect. Now smile.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re talking.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just take the picture already.”
“Bossy behind the cameraandin front of it,” he murmured, snapping a photo. I threw my arms up and he took another. Then another.
“That’s probably good,” I said, running back to his side to review them. “Hey, not bad, Fraser. Seems like you’ve got other talents aside from sheep whispering.”
“Didn’t I already show you that this morning?” he murmured against the top of my head. “I seem to recall youmoaningsomething to that effect.”
A flush zipped down my neck, turning into goosebumps along the backs of my arms. “Behave,” I said.
“Or what?” he challenged. “The trees will get offended?”
“Maybe,” I teased, inclining my head in the direction of the trail. “Should we get some photos of the waterfall for your team? It really is the property’s best feature.”
“I’d argue you’re currently its best feature.”
“Okay, smooth,” I said, tucking my camera into its case and taking his hand, leading him back down the trail. “If we go this way, we’ll come out behind it. Then we can circle back to the distillery.”
“Is this the route you run with Ranger?” Locke asked.
I nodded. “There’s a cute little bridge that takes you over the stream. People attach locks to it.”
“Locks?”
“You know, like with their initials carved into the metal. It’s very cute. Some of them are super rusty, though.”
“Hmm,” he said, his face pinched, “I don’t know if I like you running over some old, sketchy bridge.”
“It’s not sketchy,” I laughed. His concern was adorable and warmed my insides. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said. And when we finally reached the bridge, he spent at least ten minutes inspecting it, walking back and forth along the boards and shaking the handrails.
“See?” I said. “It’s sturdy.”
He hummed, then let out a sigh and turned to face me. “Don’t get mad at me.”
“For what?”
He dropped his hands to his hips. “I’m probably going to have this torn down and something new built. I’ll have to make sure the entire trail to the waterfall is completely safe if I’m going to encourage guests to visit.”
“I figured you would,” I said as we started down the path again. “Can you just promise me one thing?” He tilted his head, curious. “Keep the locks and put them on the new bridge? I’d hate to think about all those relationships being tossed into some rubbish heap.”
“If it’ll make you happy,” he said.
“It will.”
“Then consider it done. Coming soon: The Isla MacRae Memorial Lock Bridge.”
“That’s not necessary,” I groaned.
He grinned at me. “Too late. It’s officially in the construction plans.”
I rolled my eyes, my retort falling off as we neared the waterfall, the rush of the water drowning out my thoughts the way it always did. Up close, it never failed to be magnificent. The trail continued up and over the falls, heading back to the distillery, but I’d always preferred it down here, and Ranger loved to play in the stream. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
