Chapter 5

Willow

Iexcused myself from speaking with Sophie by professing a need for the bathroom, promising to meet her downstairs shortly. It might have been a touch rude, since she'd been in the middle of showing me this gorgeous castle apartment that was apparently my new home, but I needed a moment to collect myself.

I was fuming.

How. Dare. He.

How had my brother managed to weasel his way into my plans? Now I couldn't help wondering if this incredible job opportunity had somehow been manufactured. Just so Miles could keep an eye on me. Far-fetched? Maybe. Had he faked his surprise at my destination of Scotland? This was just wild enough that my brother could pull it off.

Which sucks. Truly sucks.

This would be a real kick to my pride if Miles had arranged this for me. Would Sophie lie about how she found me? She'd sounded so genuine. It would be one thing if I'd gone to Miles and asked him for help, but I hadn't. And all I felt was anger. Disbelief in myself. Again. I paced the pretty living area of the substantial apartment that had been part of the package deal that had been my admittedly generous job offer.

I'm so stupid.

Of course MacAlpine Castle wouldn't just call me, a relatively unknown designer, out of the blue and offer me a sweet job. That was the stuff of fairy tales and or movies like Pretty Woman. Yup, I was a dumbass.

This was too good to be true.

Pausing, I took a few deep breaths, trying to settle myself. This wasn't the first time that I'd found myself in an unwanted situation, and it was far better than the time I'd been ordered to "service" the lead designer with my mouth or lose out on showing my collection.

For what it's worth, I'd ignored the offer and left with my collection, and my pride, intact. While that moment had stung, because I'd been so close to seeing my designs on a runway, this felt even worse. Was I really just that na?ve?

My gut said no.

My head said yes.

And there it was, the war that I always had with myself. Drying my hands and looking in the ornate mirror hung over the bathroom sink, I studied my reflection as I schooled my breathing. Thus far, I'd had one hundred percent success rate in surviving bad days, so I would be fine.

Leaving the bathroom, Sophie had indeed left the apartment, which gave me a moment to look around. Grey stone walls showcased watercolors of the loch, colorful rugs were thrown across the floors, and two arched windows allowed the wintry light through. Crossing, I stood at the window and took stock of my situation.

Sophie hadn't pinged on my radar as being a bullshit artist. Everything she'd told me so far she'd delivered on in a timely manner, and she'd been bubbly and excited on the drive down, regaling me with tales of her own mishaps in moving to Scotland the year before. We hadn't spoken about the job, as though we both understood there was a time to jump into work talk, and instead had begun to forge the beginnings of a friendship. I'd only met Lachlan for basically a millisecond, but the way his eyes had heated when he'd seen Sophie made me instantly approve of him. There was just something about seeing a man deeply in love with his woman that made my heart flutter.

The clouds shifted outside, and a single ray of pale sunlight broke through, spearing a little island smack dab in the middle of the lake. Loch, I corrected myself. Loch Mirren. Even though I came from the land of ten thousand lakes, I'd never seen one like this—discounting Lake Michigan, of course—and being near water instantly soothed me. Rolling hills dusted in snow hugged her shores, and the buildings of Loren Brae stood out against the wintry landscape like colorful confetti left on the ground after a party.

Stay.

It was the same voice that had guided me in the past, even when the outcome had been considered a failure by others. This voice was the one that had led me to take chances, to learn from my mistakes, and to build on every new opportunity. It was the voice I trusted above all else, the same one that occasionally gave me flashes of insight about other things that I couldn't quite explain, and I knew I needed to trust it now.

Seeing Ramsay had unsettled me. But at the end of the day, if this opportunity resulted in a huge win and great step for my career, then maybe, just maybe, I would be able to bring myself to thank my brother for meddling in my life once again. Even though the loss of the Dolce and Gabbana internship still felt bitter, I reminded myself that I could always apply for another. Nothing in life was set in stone, it was all a matter of choices.

And I chose to see the good side of things, even when it was a struggle at times.

The skies opened, icy rain drifting down in sheets, and my eyes were drawn once more to the small island in the loch.

There was something there.

I didn't know what, or why I thought that, but once the idea came to me, it stuck like a burr to my skirt.

Maybe I'd get a chance to go there one day, when the weather wasn't so moody.

Pulling myself away from the window, I glanced once more around the apartment, excitement finally breaking through my anxious thoughts. This place was seriously cool, and I got to live in it, like a real freaking princess. I mean, I would pay to stay in a rental like this, so the fact that it came as part of my job was a huge bonus. Already imagining the many cool photos I could take when I posted my outfit of the day on Instagram, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, a smile on my lips.

A flicker of light, a shimmer in the dim light of the stone hallway with high ceilings, was the only warning I had that something was off before a massive cow jumped out at me from the wall.

I lost it.

Screaming, I turned and ran straight into the door that I had just closed, my hands only just catching me before I broke my nose, and I wrestled with the doorknob in panic. When it wouldn't budge, I whimpered, too scared to look over my shoulder, and when I couldn't get the door to open in time I turned to run.

And slammed into another wall.

This one being a decidedly warm and more forgiving wall. Ramsay's arms came around me and he lifted me into them, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing more than the chihuahua he'd been carrying earlier, and I gaped up at him.

"What happened?" Ramsay's eyes scanned the hallway, on alert, his jaw set. In profile, he looked ready to go to battle, and when he glanced down at me again, I shivered at the barely restrained violence I saw in his eyes.

This man could do some damage.

"Um … it's just…" Shit. How was I supposed to tell him that I saw a cow jump out of the wall and not sound like I'd well and truly lost the ability for coherent thought?

My hands were pressed against his chest, the hard curves of his muscles making me itch to explore more, and my eyes widened. No. No. Absolutely not. Sure, Ramsay was smoking hot, and seriously built, but that was not a tree I would be climbing. No, ma'am. He was my brother's friend and likely involved in this scenario of finding a "safe" place for Willow to land.

But I could still appreciate a muscular chest when pressed against one.

Angling my head, I glanced over my shoulder to the empty hallway, where sconces in the shape of lanterns warmed the stone walls and shed light across stately ancestral portraits. Surely I'd just imagined the cow. It seemed I should have slept on the plane over here. That was it. Just a bit of jet lag making me see things.

"Moooo?"

I stiffened in Ramsay's arms. The moo had been a whisper in the air, barely discernable, and my face froze, waiting to see if Ramsay had also heard it or my sleep deprivation was now leading to me hearing voices.

"Moooo?" Again, just a whisper. Bracing myself, I glanced up at Ramsay.

His head was tilted, as though listening for something, and a perplexed expression hung on his face. Relief filled me.

"Do you?—"

"Don't move." Ramsay's arms tightened around me, and honestly, I wouldn't have been able to move if I had wanted to. And, frankly, I really didn't want to. Do you know how incredible it was to be hugged tightly and cradled against a delicious man who wanted nothing more than to protect you from harm? I mean, I wasn't one for the whole damsel in distress thing, but I was beginning to see the perks. And, God did he smell good.

Following his gaze, I froze.

In the once-empty hallway one of those cows with the big horns now stood, tilting its head at us, whispering its "moo" at us.

Yes, whispering.

Not to mention, he was semi-transparent.

Oh my God. He was a ghost. A ghost cow. A freaking ghost cow.

Torn between excitement and fear, I blinked as the cow executed what seemed to be a little dance, a jig maybe? His hooves tippy-tapped on the floor, and his eyes were wide with excitement. He ended on a flourish and nodded his head at us.

"Moo?"

"You must be Clyde," Ramsay said.

"Moo!" The ghost cow bellowed so loud, racing up and down the hall like a dog with the zoomies, that we both jumped and held on to each other tighter.

"He has a name?" I gasped.

"Clyde is the Highland ghost coo that haunts MacAlpine Castle. I've never had the pleasure of meeting him."

Clyde dove through a wall at the end of the hallway, and then popped through the door to my apartment, executing another round of zoomies as though he couldn't contain his excitement.

"A coo?"

"We call our cows ‘coos' here, lass." Scotland drifted through Ramsay's words, the soft roll of the Rs making me shiver, and I wanted to keep him talking just to listen to his beautiful accent.

"Right. A ghost coo. And this is normal?" I was torn between what I wanted to look at more—Ramsay's handsome profile or the ghost executing a series of acrobatics behind me—but the ghost won. I mean, who was to say when I'd ever see this ghost again? It didn't sound like it made an appearance much if Ramsay hadn't yet seen him.

"Great job, Clyde!" Ramsay called and I glanced up at him in question. I didn't know Ramsay well, but the enthusiasm in his voice struck me as out of place for him.

"Great job doing what? Scaring the shit out of people?"

"I'm told you're supposed to compliment him, or you'll hurt his feelings."

"Hurt his … the cow, I mean, coo, has feelings?" Sure enough, Clyde pattered closer at Ramsay's words, bobbing his head as though he was happy, and I smiled.

"He's right, Clyde. You did the best job ghosting of any ghost I've seen."

Clyde perked up, doing his little jig again, and then disappeared. I blinked at the empty hallway, my heart still hammering even though I'd managed to bring myself down from sheer panic to simple anxiety, and blew out a breath.

"Are you okay?"

The hallway shifted, and I realized that we were moving. Ramsay was carrying, yes carrying me, downstairs. I wanted to stop him, but the experience was so unexpected and novel, that I decided to relish this moment.

My ex-boyfriend had stood on a chair while I'd cornered a rat in our studio.

I suspected Ramsay would set me on the counter, tell me to put my feet up, and catch the rat one-handed all while cooking me breakfast. He just had that vibe, you know? It was a quiet confidence that made me think that not much rattled this man. Which also immediately made me think about how fun it would be to see him come undone.

Bad Willow.

Ramsay carried me all the way downstairs and into a living room area where a fire roared in the fireplace. Sophie and Lachlan were cuddled on a love seat, and an older couple sat in matching tartan chairs by the fire. The dogs jumped up at our arrival, the chihuahua racing over to growl at Ramsay's feet, and Sophie popped up as well when she saw Ramsay carrying me.

"What's wrong?"

"Clyde," Ramsay said, putting me gently down and making sure I was steady on my feet before stepping away.

It was like losing a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.

I instantly missed his nearness, my body wanting to be snuggled up to his, and I had to force myself to take a step away from him to steady my nerves and pull my thoughts away from just how right it had felt to be cradled in his arms.

Let's just say my ex-boyfriend hadn't exactly been a knight in shining armor type, okay? He'd been hot, in his own art school vibe way, but not like this tall muscle-bound man who oozed strength and confidence. Really, could anyone blame me if my mind went to certain places around Ramsay? I imagined he cut a wide swath through the supermarket, women tailing him like lost puppies, pretending to reach for something on the highest shelf just to ask for his help.

Ramsay also had an impeccable sense of style. All of which ticked some of the boxes of what I found attractive in a man. His jeans were the perfect fit of not too tight, not too loose, cuffed casually over thick-soled boots. A heather-green wool sweater worn over a faded tartan shirt, both sleeves rolled to reveal intricate tattoos snaking up his arms, and a chunky watch at his wrist.

I'd forgotten just how green his eyes were.

It was one of those weird memories, which itched at my brain and took me back to being seventeen, dreaming over boys and clothes and makeup, and Ramsay had been the most exotic man I'd ever seen before. His soft accent, striking eyes, and taciturn attitude had sent my friends and me into a tizzy. None of which I'm sure he remembered, since he'd spent most of the trip fishing and camping with my brother on Rainy Lake.

"Oh, no. Willow, I'm sorry. I should have prepared you for that. Clyde is…well, he's an experience, let's just say?"

A plaintive moo echoed through the castle and Sophie grinned. A curvy girl like me, with rose-gold hair and a casual style, she had that fresh-faced American look that California girls seemed to effortlessly exude.

"And we love you for it, Clyde," Sophie called, directing her voice toward the corridor.

"So … that's a normal thing, eh?" I asked, making a mental note to never sneak downstairs for snacks in the middle of the night. Nope, I would be stocking the mini fridge in my apartment with any needed midnight munchies, thank you very much.

"Normal would be a stretch, I suppose, but Clyde is part of MacAlpine Castle's charm." The woman sitting by the fire rose and walked forward, hand outstretched. With short hair, an efficient and motherly air, her presence instantly soothed me. She wore fitted navy corduroy pants, buttery-soft Chelsea boots, and a cream-colored cable-knit sweater. Country cottage chic. "I'm Hilda, one of the castle caretakers, and this is my husband, Archie. I largely run the interior and Archie handles the maintenance and gardens, but if there is anything you need, we're both available to help."

"Thank you, Hilda. Nice to meet you."

"Welcome, lass." Archie lifted shaggy brows and nodded at me from where he tied flies by the fire.

"You fish?" I asked, angling my head at him.

"It's a passion, I'll admit. Do you?"

"I do," I said, because, well, it was hard to grow up in Minnesota and not try your hand at fishing on occasion. Particularly when you had an older brother who would drag you along on his days to watch you. So I'd learned, reluctantly, and had quietly come to enjoy the peaceful times at the lake. It had given me time to sketch designs and dream over my future.

"That's a good lass."

The way Archie said it made me want to preen, as though I'd just received the highest badge of honor, and my lips quirked in a smile.

"Well, honestly, this is going far better than I expected. Since I have you both here, do you want to just quickly talk about your schedules this week? Ramsay, I'd like to get Willow down to your shop at some point so she can scope the place out and make some notes on what she'll be doing for you."

I blinked at Sophie, my brain scrambling to catch up to her words. My mouth went dry. I turned slowly, my eyebrows at my hairline, and met Ramsay's eyes.

"Notes?" Ramsay asked Sophie, ignoring me.

"For the internship? The one you agreed to?" Sophie spoke slowly, as though educating a three-year-old, and Ramsay's eyes shifted to mine.

"Willow is my intern?"

"I mean, I'm not yours, per se, it's not like you own me," I rushed out. No idea why I said that, because the idea of Ramsay owning any part of me didn't seem all that distasteful.

"No," Ramsay said. Turning, he left the room, and my mouth dropped open.

"Right, yes, he does have a habit of doing this. Don't worry, Willow. We'll figure this out." Sophie patted my arm, glaring at the empty doorway.

There was no way this was going to work. It was one thing for Ramsay to be here, on my new adventure, and another thing entirely to be working for him. I sighed, looking around at the expectant faces in the room.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can do this."