Chapter 7

Willow

"Listen, it's not like you can hop back on a plane this second. Why don't you take a few days and learn more about the job and Loren Brae and then you can make your decision?"

Sophie's words echoed back to me as I finished getting ready for dinner.

Perhaps I had been a touch dramatic announcing my resignation before I'd even started my job, but between the ghost coo and Ramsay's sudden appearance in my life, I'd been more than rattled. Even so, my typical full-throttle approach to life would have meant that I shouldn't have been fazed by any of these hurdles.

It must be lack of sleep.

That was the only thing that I could chalk my behavior up to, since my gut was screaming at me to keep this job. The minute we'd driven up the long road to MacAlpine Castle, something had clicked—like that definitive click that comes when you secure your airplane seatbelt—and I'd known I was home. Home. It was that same knowing, that deep-rooted understanding that I needed to be here in this moment, that had me standing in front of a mirror trying on outfits to wear to the local pub for dinner instead of looking up flights to go home.

I wondered if other people had the same internal voice that I did. This sense of knowing, the gentle nudges forward in life, was something I'd had as long as I could remember. Many a time it had saved me from disaster—like the time I'd stopped on a street corner and refused to step forward even though the walk sign had turned green. A car had run the red light, luckily not hurting anyone, but had I stepped out onto the street I would have been a goner. Numerous instances like that through my life had convinced me that when my gut told me to do something, I should listen.

Which is why, currently, I was more frazzled than was typical for me. My gut said "stay." My mind said "leave." I was at odds with myself and that was never a comfortable place to be. The reality was that Miles was getting in my head. My impatient, domineering, overprotective brother had been determined to chip away at my impulsive behavior through the years until finally, he'd managed to take a chink out of my freewheeling armor. I liked to believe that every life experience taught me something and led more toward where I needed to go. Miles wanted to control every situation so that the outcome was predetermined.

Was his way better or worse than mine? Considering that thought for a moment, I pulled on wide-legged jeans, a fitted crewneck top with a vintage ice cream shop logo on the front, and my Adidas Sambas. I piled a few dainty necklaces together, added my hoops, and pulled back the top half of my hair with a cute bow. Bows were in this season. Grabbing my soft wool camel trench coat, I slipped it over my shoulders, added my black quilted crossbody purse with gold details, and turned in front of the mirror.

Cute, casual, chic.

The three Cs.

What Miles needed in life, I did not. My soul craved adventure and creation, and this job offered both. The needs of the castle shop would stretch my creative energy, all while allowing me a foundation of security to potentially build something of my own. While small-town Loren Brae, Scotland, wasn't exactly the hotbed of the fashion industry and the place I needed to be to grow a brand, maybe that was just fine. There were many roads to the lake, my father had always told me, and I reached for that wisdom now.

I loved new experiences.

I loved designing.

I loved being creative.

I loved meeting new people.

I loved building something of my own.

Loren Brae offered me all of these things, plus the opportunity to live in an actual freaking castle. And the reality was, I really, really, really wanted to build something of my own. I needed to do this for myself, and even if Miles had manufactured this job somehow, I still could prove myself. I didn't see how working for Ramsay was going to pan out, but surely Sophie would still be open to me designing for the castle shop. I'd ask her over dinner and maybe we could come to a resolution that suited both of us.

Since Ramsay clearly didn't want to work with me either.

Sniffing, I tucked my phone, lipstick, and wallet into my purse and left my apartment.

The rude bastard had simply walked out. Who even did that? He'd even been more dramatic than I had been, and that was saying something.

"Moo?"

It was just a whisper this time, like the softest of sighs, and I barely jumped. Schooling my breath, I turned to see Clyde in the hallway behind me, his head tilted, his eyes hopeful.

Could a ghost coo's eyes be hopeful? Was lack of sleep finally catching up to me?

Bracing myself, I lifted a hand that only trembled slightly.

"Hi, Clyde."

"Moo!" Clyde bellowed, dancing his little jig while I tried not to have a panic attack on the spot, and then winked from sight.

"You might want to work on decibel control," I called out, my hand at my chest, as I turned to continue downstairs. Really, how did someone ever get used to that? At least I didn't need that cup of coffee I'd been hoping for as my jet lag had been shattered at Clyde's shout.

"Are you okay?" Sophie stood in the foyer of the castle, and I paused to catch my breath and admire the grandiose room. Stone floors, high ceilings, and stately double wooden doors created an epic backdrop, and already I was itching to take a million photos here. Even though Sophie was dressed casually in a UCLA sweatshirt and jeans, she looked effortlessly cool against the worn wood door with black metal scrollwork. Oh yeah, I wouldn't have to look far for interesting and unique content for social media, that was for sure. "You look a little tense."

"Your resident ghost paid me a visit."

"Ah, yes. Clyde is a fan of the jump scare. Wait until you meet Lia. She'll tell you about the time he made her pee her pants."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah. He's like a toddler on crack. There is nothing more exciting to Clyde than being able to scare someone. It's like he was given the rules of ghosting and took them to heart, but then immediately feels bad when he actually manages to scare someone, so he hangs around to make sure you're okay."

"He has feelings?" I hadn't imagined the emotion in his eyes.

"Oh, big time. But his mainline is cheerful."

"Fascinating. Is this something you're just…used to now? Or have you always been comfortable with ghosts?"

We left the front hall and stepped into the brisk winter night. Sophie nodded toward the twinkling lights of Loren Brae at the base of the hill on which MacAlpine Castle stood.

"Are you okay with walking?"

"I was just living in New York. We walked everywhere."

"Perfect. And yes, I'm used to Clyde now, but he still gets me from time to time. And no, I wasn't someone who was into ghosts before my uncle left me the castle. I was a marketing manager for my uncle's company in California. Huge fan of spreadsheets and things that add up and make sense. A highland ghost coo doesn't fit neatly in any of my life-understanding boxes."

"And yet, here you are. You inherited the castle?"

"I did."

"That's a pretty big deal. Also, sorry for your loss."

"Thanks for that. Yeah, now? I can't say I'd take it all back just to have Uncle Arthur with me again, because then I'd never have met Lachlan or started this new and amazing life, but I miss him. He was one of my favorite people, aside from his wife, Lottie, and the grief never fully goes away. It just sort of sneaks up on you in unexpected ways. Knowing him, though, he'd be happy as can be with how things have worked out for me. He was always up for an adventure."

"I understand grief. I lost my mom quite young, so the edges of my grief are dulled and mixed in with those blurred childhood memories you get. But watching those around me grieve probably added to that experience."

"I'm sorry." Sophie shot me a sympathetic look as we walked down the path, the gravel crunching beneath our shoes. "Do you have a big family?"

"No, just my brother and my dad. My mother was from here, actually. Well, close by. That's how we know Ramsay. We'd come to visit Gran in the summers and my brother, Miles, made friends. He was better at it than I was, always off fishing and playing sports, while I liked to stay home and cut up clothes to dress my dolls."

"And look where that landed you, though. A celebrated fashion designer."

"I don't know that I'd say celebrated. But I'm getting there." I paused. Loren Brae revealed herself to me as we reached the base of the hill, and my heart sighed. Even though it was dark out, it was hard to ignore the charm of this village. It reminded me of a postcard, with twinkling lights reflected on the dark surface of the water, and old-timey lantern style streetlamps lighting up cobblestoned streets. Was everything here a picture? Already I wanted to pull my phone out and take a ton of photos for inspiration, but I didn't want to be rude to Sophie who pulled her coat more tightly around herself when an icy gust of wind rattled across the loch. Sophie turned to go up the main street of the village, but I paused, my gaze captured by the rippling waters of Loch Mirren.

When we'd arrived in Loren Brae, Sophie cheerfully chattering as she'd directed the car down a narrow lane that hugged the loch's shores, I'd barely had a chance to admire Loch Mirren. In the daylight, it had been stunning, icy greyish-blue water hugged by intimidating hills, but at night? She was breathtaking. It was really a sense of openness, like I was the only person standing on the edge of the world, with the wind whispering the secrets of the past at my ears. Something tugged in my soul, like my blood rising to meet its roots, and for a moment, the world seemed to shimmer and shift around me as a faint glimmer rippled across the surface of the loch. My breath caught.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sophie's voice was quiet at my side.

"Powerful," I said.

"Ah. Then you feel it already? Interesting."

At that I glanced at Sophie, a question on my lips.

"Sophie! Hi!"

Interrupted, we both turned as a slim woman with messy curls and a puffy jacket waved at us from across the street.

"Agnes, hi! Are you going to the pub?" Sophie asked, nudging me toward her friend. We crossed the empty street, and I smiled politely at the woman.

"I am. I'm craving a bowl of soup on this brisk night. Hello." The woman smiled at me, nodding.

"This is Willow. She's here to help design a custom fashion line for the castle shop."

"Och, that's right. With Ramsay, eh? Welcome to Loren Brae, Willow. I'm Agnes, and I own Bonnie Books, just down the way." Agnes gestured to the village and shook my hand, her eyes bright and lively in the light from the streetlamp.

"I don't know about the ‘with Ramsay' part, but I'm definitely here to design."

"Bloody hell. Is he giving you trouble already?" Agnes shook her head and turned down the main street and we followed, the icy wind driving us toward the warmth of the pub.

"He said no as soon as he saw her and walked out."

"He did not. Fecking eejit." Agnes shook her head.

"Oh, he did. But there's history there. My mom was from the area, so we'd visit in the summers. Ramsay is one of my brother's best friends, even though I haven't seen him in years. Guess he doesn't think I can hack it at his store."

"How would he even know if he doesn't try? God, he's such a grump," Sophie said, outraged on my behalf.

I wouldn't have described Ramsay as a grump in my teenage years. Reserved, I guess, but with a devilish smile, maybe, but not necessarily grumpy. He did spend most of his time with my brother, so perhaps I never saw that side of him.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't really talked to him in forever."

"He's a tetchy one, and that's the truth of it. Already it's becoming a bit of a thing around town," Agnes said, slowing her speed. "People have heard it's impossible to get an appointment at his shop, so it seems to be a game to see if they can get through the door."

"Like a VIP list at a club?" I asked, shaking my head. That was certainly no way to do business.

"Exactly that. There's no rhyme or reason to when he's open or accepting customers."

"I'm not sure he really needs the business, does he?" Sophie asked.

"Then why even open a shop? If he just wants to work in peace, wouldn't he have opened a workshop or whatever? Why have the storefront?" Agnes stopped in front of a pretty stone building. With paned windows that spilled warm light onto the sidewalk, a carved wooden sign reading The Tipsy Thistle, and an arched doorway at the entrance, I was instantly charmed. No neon signs and dismal sports bar exterior here. Instead, stone walls and carved wood framed the building, showcasing true historical design and aesthetic. Why the United States had succumbed to bland strip malls and basic design, I do not know. City planning gone awry, I guess.

"Maybe it just feeds Ramsay's ego to be in demand," I said.

Both women stiffened at my words, and I winced. Had I gone too far? Ramsay was their friend, and I was new in town, so perhaps I'd put my foot in it.

"Ladies."

I closed my eyes at the word at my back, the voice a rough timbre that shivered across my skin, and I knew instantly that Ramsay had overheard what I'd said. Turning, I confirmed my suspicions when I found him glowering down at me.

Once again, standing this close, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by this man. His sheer size made me have to tilt my head to look up at him, and if possible, he made me feel like a fragile flower ready to shed her petals in the wind. Was this how thin woman felt around men all the time? Like delicate teacups that could break under their touch? If so, I was beginning to see the appeal. I'd never been one to aspire to have a man capable of manhandling me, but now that I was confronted with this rude, glaring, growly hunk of a man, my inner hussy wanted to roll over and flirt with him like a cat begging for more cream. His presence was potent, and my body instantly remembered how casually he'd carried me through the long halls of the castle as though he was rescuing a princess from a battle. Again, damsel in distress I was not, but damn it, Ramsay made me want to be one, just so I could press myself against his muscular body one more time.

"Ramsay. We were just talking about you," I said, not bothering to try and cover up my faux pas.

"As I heard. You think I have an ego?" Ramsay lifted his chin at me, his eyes shrouded in darkness from the newsboy cap he wore.

"Don't most men?"

"She has a point," Sophie interjected.

"Delicate, fragile, whiny little egos," Agnes muttered, and my lips quirked. I wondered who had annoyed her.

"Rough crowd," Ramsay rasped. "I'll be sure to keep my ego on the other side of the pub tonight."

"Oh, come on, Ramsay. We need to talk about this," Sophie protested.

Ramsay just shook his head and held the door open for us. Sophie sighed, and we clambered into the narrow front hallway.

"See?" Agnes hissed. "Fragile egos. Men need to be pampered at all times. It's why I don't want one."

"Me either," I agreed, though my inner hussy was still outside wrapped around Ramsay's muscular thighs.

"I, for one, will happily feed Lachlan's ego if it means I get as many orgasms as I do."

"Who needs a man when you have a vibrator? Have you seen the designs they have these days? Enough to make you sing."

Agnes nodded and high-fived me, while Ramsay made a sound caught between a laugh and a groan, and I winked at him.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself with, Ramsay. Women can take care of themselves."

"If you prefer rowing a boat yourself instead of a ride on a superyacht." Ramsay shrugged, and my mouth dropped open.

"A superyacht." Agnes snorted and patted Ramsay's arm while I tried to ignore the heat that warmed my body at his words. "That's an inflated opinion you have of yourself, darling."

"Never had any complaints." Ramsay flashed Agnes a grin so full of heat and oozing sexual promises that I felt the force of it from where I stood. Agnes blinked up at him, momentarily stunned, and I could not blame her. The man packed a powerful punch when he wanted to.

Which I was not going to pay attention to. No, sir. I was not.

The inner door to the pub opened, spilling enticing scents and laughter, and I rushed toward the lightness and warmth, because I quite literally had no answer for the lust that plagued me for my potential employer. Now I was stuck thinking about what a superyacht of sexual experiences with Ramsay would look like and that was not where my thoughts needed to be about my brother's best friend.

Superyacht. Indeed.