Page 2 of Sullivan

I stepped onto the porch, transferring the bags to one hand as I fished the key to the door from my coat pocket. It slid in easily, and I opened the door, stepping in fast and shutting it behind me quickly.

The heat slapped me in the face, and I dropped my bags, leaning my head back on the wooden door, glad I was inside and out of the storm. Two things hit me at once.

The scent of the fire that roared in the hearth.

The odd thumping sound and a frightened gasp.

I opened my eyes and met the terrified gaze of a stranger.

A woman.

One of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Average height and curvy, she had long, golden-brown hair that hung down past her shoulders. Huge, dark eyes were wide with fear, and a set of full lips was open in shock.

Our gazes locked, and she stood, backing away, shaking her head.

And then she fainted.

CHAPTER TWO

AUTUMN

Ipushed my hair off my cheek, cursing the fact that my clip had broken. I usually wore my hair up in the office to keep it off my face since when down like this, the curls did whatever they wanted—and that was usually to bother me.

I opened the drawer beside me, searching, hoping for an elastic, a large paper clip—anything to help. But it was empty. That was the problem with short-term offices. I really didn’t know where anything was, and since I was only temporary, I never would.

I ignored the curl that escaped, hanging over my eye, and concentrated on the screen in front of me. A throat clearing made me look up. One of my temporary coworkers stood in the doorway, smiling.

“Hey, Bonnie. Come in.”

She stepped in, sitting across from me. I had met her when she lived in Canada for a short time. The company I worked for had acquired the one she was employed by in Scotland, and they’d brought her over to Canada for a short period to learn the ropes. We had struck up a friendship, and when she went back to Scotland, I was sad to see her go. She was born in Ireland but grew up in Scotland with her stepmother and dad. We had gotten along so well in Canada and had stayed in touch. When an opportunity opened up for someone from Canada to come to Scotland to help with a new HR handbook and guidelines, Bonnie had put my name up, and I was excited to accept. It would give me the distance I needed. The chance to reclaim my life. At least, I hoped it did.

I had always wanted to see Scotland, and in the time I had been here, I had used any free hours to explore. Bonnie had been a great tour guide, showing me sights only the locals would know. I had added a few holiday days into my schedule so I had time to explore.

She held up a stack of papers. “So far, so good,” she said in her delightful Scottish accent. “The higher-ups approve. Your suggestions are spot-on.” She beamed at me. “It’s such a great idea to have the same outlines all across the company, no matter what continent we’re in.” She winked at me. “You’ve earned your time off for your mini break.”

I laughed at her drollness. “The manual was a bit chaotic.”

She snorted. “You think? It hadn’t been updated in years. Some of your ideas seemed almost unreal to them.”

I shook my head. The company I worked for had bought this one last year and was bringing it out of the dark ages—HR, onboarding manuals, and all. We’d use the same programs, software, everything, to make it seamless.

Bonnie tossed her dark hair, her blue eyes smiling. “What do you have planned for your free time?”

I frowned. “Oh. Well, I had an Airbnb booked in a small town, but they canceled on me this morning. I need to find a new place. I want a quiet little spot close to the water.”

“Oh.” She frowned, then her face cleared. “Oh. Wait!” She pulled out her phone, typing on it, waiting for a reply. I finished a paragraph on the screen as she hummed, tapping her foot. “No reply. That means he’s immersed in work, so I know the answer. I have the perfect place for you.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“My cousin owns a small cottage in Lachlan, about two hours from here. He goes there occasionally, and I rent it out for him from time to time. Only to people we know.”

“He’s not using it this weekend?”

“He didn’t reply to my message, so I’m sure not. I saw him last week, and he was so deep into unraveling a complicated law case, he wasn’t sure when he’d come up for air next.” She laughed a little. “He’s a solicitor. Sullivan Black is his name. When he’s involved in a case and he doesn’t respond, I know he’s busy. But that means the cottage is available.”

“Really?” I paused. “Is it, ah, safe?”

She nodded knowingly. “I think so. Secluded, but it’s near a small village. Very pretty, right on the water. I go and stay alone. So does Sully. I sent Emily there after her breakup. She loved it. Wait, I have pictures.”