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Robbie nods, and we turn our horses and head back to the stables, together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ROBBIE

Cat brings her car to a halt outside the Bannock Hotel, and I frown, suspicion prickling at the back of my neck.

“Why are we stopping here?”

We managed to scrub off the worst of the horse smell at the stables, but I’m not in the mood for a social call, especially not at the Bannock Hotel. This is McIntyre territory, and I’m about as welcome here as a fox in a henhouse.

Cat grins, her hazel eyes sparkling with that unmistakable look, the one that’s got trouble written all over it. “Trust me on this. Come on.”

I don’t move. My fingers drum the door handle. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Lewis runs this place, and while he doesn’t hate me as much as Ally does, he’s not my biggest fan either.”

“Please?” She turns to face me fully, head tipped just so, giving me her best pleading stare. “For me?”

Damn it, Cat McIntyre could probably convince a nun to rob a bank.

“Fine! But if Ally throws me out on my arse, I’m blaming you.”

She grins triumphantly and hops out of the car. I lumber after her with considerably less enthusiasm. Warm lights glow in the stone building’s windows. To anyone else, I’m sure the place looks welcoming. Just not to me.

Cat pushes open the door and strides in like she owns the place—which, I suppose, in a way she does. I trail behind her, feeling oversized and out of place in my leather jacket and boots. She leads me through to the hotel’s small restaurant, and I stop dead in my tracks.

It seems the restaurant is closed to the public tonight. Instead, a long table has been set up in the middle, and it’s crowded with people. The McIntyre brothers are all here with their partners. Elspeth Stewart, her cheeks flushed the same colour as her wine, is chatting away with Bryce from the Pheasant. Aidan Stewart sits with Grace—his girlfriend and David’s twin sister—while their toddler does laps around the table. Even the dog is here, curled up on the floor, blissfully snoozing through all the noise.

It’s a fucking family dinner, and Cat’s dragged me right into the middle of it.

“Cat!” Elspeth calls out, spotting her. “I was wondering where you’d got to.” Her eyes flick to me, and her smile wavers for a moment before returning, polite but uncertain. “Oh! Robbie!”

Conversations stutter to a halt, and suddenly the whole room is staring at us—well, at me. Ally glares at me from across the table like he’s weighing up which window would be easiest to toss me through.

I’m about to back out when Jamie stands, walks over, and extends his hand to me.

“How are you doing, Robbie?” he asks, as if my presence here isn’t completely bizarre. “Take a seat. Join us.”

I shake his hand, too surprised to do anything else.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Ally sets his glass down hard enough to make it—and a few plates—rattle. “Robbie was arrested just yesterday, and there are children present. Impressionable ears and all that.”

“Ally,” Emily murmurs soothingly, resting a hand on his shoulder, baby Ciaran nestled in the crook of her other arm.

Before anyone else can protest—or before I can make my escape—a tiny figure darts straight at me. It’s Aidan’s wee lass, Callie. Without a hint of the wariness the adults are showing, she ducks between my legs then peeks out from behind me, giggling. From across the table, wee Ru watches her with wide-eyed fascination.

I freeze, unsure what to do, then glance down at her with a raised eyebrow. “Er . . . hello there.”

She giggles some more.

Cat smirks at Ally. “Looks like Jamie and Callie don’t mind Robbie joining us.”

Just then, the dog gets up and ambles over, his tail wagging. Cat gives him an affectionate scratch behind the ear, then he noses at my leg and gives me one of those soulful looks Labradors specialise in. I hold out my hand, and he gives it a cautious sniff, followed by an approving lick.

“Bruce doesn’t seem bothered either,” Cat observes. “What about the rest of you?”

A few forced smiles appear around the table, but the atmosphere remains strained.

“Look, I should probably go⁠—”