Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Finlay

I t took everything in my power not to scoop Orla up and carry her home with me. There was something about her that made me want to protect her, even though I admired how confident and capable she was. It was just those glimpses of vulnerability she'd shared with me, a hesitancy to give more of herself, that made me want to show up for her.

Like many people hadn't in her past.

I'd spent some time over the past couple of weeks reading up on foster children, or those raised in poverty, and I was beginning to understand why Orla was distrustful of me. Or at the very least, not willing to jump into a relationship with me no matter how often I jokingly called her my girlfriend. Why should she trust me? I was new to her, and it sounded like many pivotal people in her life had failed her.

This knowledge had only strengthened the decision that I had finalized this morning. Now, I just had to settle in for the long game and see how it went. I had all the time in the world now, so long as Orla kept giving me a chance. As far as I could tell, she was worth it.

"Our first official date," I said, as I lugged the food toward the picnic table that Shona had set up under a tree, the branches lightly shading the spot from the sun that had decided to make an appearance for once. "And the sun shines upon us."

"You think it's giving us its blessing then?" Orla grinned at me from where she walked with Harris, who was taking his time to sniff and inspect each bush along the way. I couldn't blame the dog, it was likely far more interesting than the smells he was used to in the shelter.

"And why wouldn't it? A happy couple, enjoying a braw spring day."

Orla stiffened at my words, but I was getting used to her standoffishness and was learning to navigate her reactions. Once I understood where much of it was coming from, it made it easier for me to accept and adapt to her needs. I followed her gaze to where Harris had frozen, his head cocked at a gnome statue.

"Harris. No," Orla hissed, tugging at his lead. Harris twisted his body, moving to lift his leg. "No, Harris, no ."

She tugged, but the dog was stubborn, and the leg raised higher.

Seconds before the stream of pee would hit the statue, Orla managed to pull the dog back so it only splattered at the feet of the wee gnome. I could have sworn the statue's face grew angrier, but surely that was just my imagination, and I bit back a laugh.

"Harris! No peeing on the nice garden statues," I said to the dog, dropping the cooler on the table. "Here, I brought you a toy."

Orla was bent over the statue, whispering, and I squinted at her.

"All good there?"

"Och, just apologizing to the wee…I mean, just seeing if any got on the statue." Orla gave me a guilty look. "Shona's been so kind to have us, I'd feel bad for Harris ruining one of her things."

"It looked like you caught him in time."

"Stubborn boy." Orla ruffled Harris's ears and took the tennis ball I handed her. "Up for some ball?"

Harris jumped, wriggling his body in delight, and it seemed he was indeed up for some ball. Orla tossed it across the grass and Harris took off running, chasing it down before racing back, his ears flopping in the wind.

"Oh just look at him go! He's so happy. Thank you, Fin. He needed this."

"Looks like you both did."

"I think you're right." Orla beamed as Harris dropped the already sloppy ball at her feet. "I love him so much."

I'd spoken with the shelter owner this morning. We all knew how much Harris loved Orla, but also that she refused to get a dog with her long work hours. I respected her for that, but we were going to try and come up with a solution. Maybe one that would benefit us all. I had to think on it some more, but for now this was today's solution—an afternoon in the sunshine with Harris's and my best girl.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like for a picnic, so I kind of went with everything." I unpacked the cool box, laying out cold cut meats, slices of deli cheese, several types of bread, sauces, two different salads, three kinds of crisps, and a jar of pickles. Orla's mouth dropped open as I pulled out two small cakes as well.

"Fin, we're never going to be able to eat all that."

"Nae bother." I laughed. "I'll pack it back in the cooler and we can have sandwiches for the week then."

"That's sensible." Orla bit her lower lip, worrying. "I hate wasting food."

"Nope, we'll get through it, one way or the other, I promise." I was about to ask her if she had a favorite meal growing up, maybe one for Christmas dinner or the like, but realized she might not have had much choice in what she ate. Instead, I shifted gears as I opened a can of juice and poured a glass for her. I hadn't brought wine, since we'd both be driving. "Tell me, how are things going down at the kilt shop? Such a shame, that fire."

"Right? Sad about it being Ramsay's brother too." Orla shook her head, her lips pursed. "Just goes to show that a lot of people have awful families."

"Unfortunately, that's the truth of it."

Orla glanced at me and winced, her cheeks pinkening.

"I wasn't implying your?—"

"No, it's fine. Even if you were, I'm still raging about how she treated you at the gala. I hope you know that was truly the last straw for me."

"Fin." Orla turned to me, leaning over the table to grab one of my hands. I liked when she touched me without thinking, since she so easily pulled back from me most times. "I don't want to be the thing that comes between you and your mum. You need to fix this."

"Do I?" I studied her, trailing my finger lightly across her knuckles, brushing my thumb over the palm of her hand. She sucked in a breath at my touch, and I continued, wanting her to get used to my hands on her. "Why?"

"Because she's family."

"So?"

"Family is everything." Orla's eyes were wide as she studied me. Who was her family and why did she end up alone? Those were the questions I wanted to ask, but I knew it wasn't the right time. That was given when she knew me better. Trusted me with her secrets. Her past.

Just then, a bird chirped over us, having found a spot in the branches, and another answered merrily. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, and a light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers to us. I could see Orla's point about family, but I wondered where that conviction came from. Especially if she didn't have a family.

"Do you really believe that?"

I wanted to know her answer to this, because that particular phrase was often repeated, with little evidence to back it up.

"Och…" Orla paused, considering her words. Lines appeared in her forehead as she gave my question more serious thought, and she threw the ball for a delighted Harris without even looking. "No, I don't suppose I do at th at. For me? Family wasn't everything. But maybe because of that I have a glamorized version of how a family should operate so I hate to see when other family units break down. Maybe because mine was broken from the beginning. It's the idea of it all, this perfect vision of a happy home and family that I kind of hold on to, I guess?"

"Then you're advocating more for an ideal than a reality, right?"

Orla leaned back, looking a little hurt, and I rushed to explain. "No, I'm not slapping you back for that. I'm just seeking to understand. Because I had the perfect family life, or so I thought, until it crumbled under me. And I can keep wishing it would return to that, or that people were different from what they are, but how long do you keep chasing a reality that only lives in your head?"

"Then this thing with your mum has been going on a while then?"

"Aye, since even before my dad died. I kept giving her blind loyalty, bending over backward to keep her in the lifestyle she's accustomed to, and for what? She doesn't care about me, Orla. She cares about herself and what her peers will think. At what point do I step away and live my life for myself? I don't owe her anything. I'm the child, she's the parent. My duty is to myself and those that I love, not to a woman who's selfish beyond words."

"I'm sorry, Fin. I guess I was just seeing it from the night of the gala."

"The night of the gala revealed to me that my mother has moved past being difficult and into cruelty. The consequences for that will be losing her son."

"Fin." Orla's face twisted. "Do you really mean that? You're cutting her off completely?"

"I have to. For my own sake. And for her, as well. She's a healthy woman in her prime and certainly not stupid. It's time for her to figure things out on her own. I can't abide cruelty, even more so when it is against someone that I…" I caught myself before I said love. "…someone that I care about."

"On the scale of things, it wasn't the worst that I've dealt with before, Fin. Kids can be quite mean." Orla had left her hands in mine, and I squeezed them, not wanting to break contact with her. "Particularly when you look different or are wearing the wrong sized shoes and all that."

"It was also likely because you're impossibly beautiful."

Orla's skin flushed, and I wanted to see her like that, her red hair spread out across my pillow, her skin pinkening as I brought her pleasure. Desire pooled low, my body responding, and I was glad a picnic table was over my lap, or I'd look like a creep getting turned on during a serious conversation. But, God, I wanted her. In all ways. In my life. In my house. In my bed.

"So you keep saying…" Orla brought her hands to her face, a shy smile peeking out from behind them. "I don't know if I see what you see."

"How could you not?" I pulled her hands from her face, leaning forward, and brushed a soft kiss against her mouth. "I find you to be utterly bewitching."

At that, Orla stiffened, an odd look coming into her eyes, and her gaze darted away for a moment. What was she thinking about when I said these things? Did I make her nervous or did she just not believe me ?

"I have a surprise for you after lunch," I said, switching gears to bring her to lighter topics.

"A surprise? After all this?" Orla swept a hand out to the food and to where Harris waited for his new ball toss.

"Aye, lassie. It's a good one too. But only if you finish your lunch."

"Tell me what it is," Orla demanded, picking up a piece of bread to start building her sandwich.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I did."

"Give me a hint."

"No."

"Och, come on then. That's no fun." Orla pouted.

"Not good with surprises, are you?" I laughed.

"Hate them," Orla confirmed, adding some deli chicken to her sandwich.

"Too bad. You'll have to wait."

"Not even a tiny clue?"

"Nope."

"I don't like you very much right now, Fin."

"That's just the hunger talking. You'll be better after a sandwich." I laughed as she glared at me and Harris dropped the ball, coming to sit at the table, giving us the best puppy dog eyes to ever beg in the history of puppy dog eyes.

"Oh man, he's good, isn't he?" Orla gaped down at him, her resolve wavering.

"He is. I don't think I have the willpower to hold out." I reached for a piece of chicken and Harris, ever the gentleman, took it delicately from my fingers before wandering across the yard to eat it in a far corner. "Huh, look at that. I thought he'd scarf it down. "

"Nope." Orla's expression was just a touch sad. "He's protecting it. And likely savoring every bite of it since he doesn't get chicken often. It's a prize for him, you ken?"

"Aye." But I wasn't looking at Harris, I was looking at Orla, my heart breaking for the young girl that nobody had been able to provide the most basic of things for. She glanced at me and shook her head, and then smiled. That smile. It was one of the many reasons I could see myself falling for this woman.

"Tell me how you started working for Munroe."

"Well, it started with a pool game…" For the rest of the lunch, I kept things light, regaling her with tales of my university days with Munroe, all while making sure she had more than enough to eat. By the time she'd pronounced herself full, we'd made good headway through the food. I packed the rest away after giving one more slice of chicken to a delighted Harris.

"We'd best get on. Not only have you earned your prize, but we need to take this handsome fellow back to the shelter before they close for the day."

Orla's face fell, and I knew she was thinking about Harris having to return to the shelter. There was nothing that I could say to make it better, as I didn't have an answer for this problem.

Yet.

We packed up the picnic, and I helped Harris into Orla's truck since I knew he didn't want to be separated from her. Promising to follow me to the surprise, Orla waited while I backed my truck up with a wave goodbye to Shona. My stomach jittered with nerves, but at the same time, I was excited. This decision hadn't come lightly to me, but I hoped the choice I had made would show Orla that I was in this for the long haul. She needed to be shown that people didn't only let her down.

But in all honesty, I wasn't just doing this for Orla. I was hopeful for a future with her, but I also realized that this was something that I needed too. A fresh start, a new beginning, and putting down roots in a place that was beginning to feel like home to me.

I followed the road that hugged Loch Mirren, perfect cotton ball clouds reflected in her waters, sunlight bathing the rolling green hills in a warm glow. When I saw it like this, picture-perfect on a Saturday afternoon, it was hard to imagine the shrieks that split the night came from the loch's haunted depths. I'd heard them myself, hadn't I? We all had. The crew didn't speak of it, but after careful questioning, Munroe had opened up to me about the Kelpies. A known issue in Loren Brae, and one they were secretly trying to combat to help the village from dying off from people moving away out of fear. He hadn't exactly elaborated on how they planned to combat the Kelpies, but our conversation had been cut short by a meeting about delays in supplies. Still, this hadn't deterred me from my decision. If everyone else was staying to fight the Kelpies well, hell, so was I. Even if I had no clue what that meant. Maybe this was my own way of showing up for my found family—Munroe, Common Gin, the crew, and Orla—even if they didn't know I considered them such. The more I stuck around and ingratiated myself to everyone, the more I'd build a new future for myself here.

Humming, I put my indicator on and turned off the main road and down a small lane within walking distance of the little downtown stores. I drove a minute before pulling to a stop in front of a charming three-bedroom stone cottage with a walled back garden and cheerful flower boxes under the front windows. The door was painted bright red, and the flowers in the boxes matched the hue. I'd have to ask Shona what kind of flowers they were if I had any hope of keeping them alive. Getting out of the truck, I smiled at Orla as she pulled to a stop and hopped out, Harris at her heels.

"What's this? Are you taking me to bid on a new project? On my day off?" Orla shook her head sadly at me and I laughed.

"Not quite. I'm not so cruel as to force you to work on a date. Come on then, have a look."

"But what am I looking at?" Orla squinted up at me as I dug the keys out and unlocked the front door, a little hum of excitement going through me as we stepped over the threshold.

Would she be happy here?

It was my first thought when I'd seen the place, and one that I hadn't been able to shake every time I'd gone back. Even this morning, when I'd signed on the final papers, making this cottage my new home, I couldn't help but wonder if Orla would like it. Even if she never moved in here, I wanted her to feel safe in my home. Maybe one day our home.

I almost rolled my eyes at my thoughts. I'd only ever kissed the woman and here I was imagining living together? It made sense now, how Munroe had fallen so fast. I'd teased him about it at the time, before I'd met Lia, but now I was beginning to understand. When you knew, you knew. And I knew it was Orla. Whether she was ready to see it or not was an entirely different matter.

"Welcome to my new home."

Orla's mouth dropped open and she pivoted, gaping at the space.

"Fin! You didn't. Did you really buy a house here?"

"I did."

"But why? I thought you were only here for the buildout. This seems extravagant. Even for you."

That rankled.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know…being posh and whatnot." Orla waved a hand in the air, her eyes still taking in the house.

"I may be posh, but I'm not stupid with my money."

At my tone, Orla turned, and she must have caught something in my expression because her body tensed, and her shoulders went back. It was as though she was bracing herself for a fight, and I realized that in the past, she'd likely had to protect herself in more ways than one. Even though I was annoyed, I understood that I would need to reassure Orla in ways that maybe I didn't have to with other people that didn't come from a place of trauma. I'd read about this, and now I was witnessing her response in real time.

"I'm sorry," Orla said, taking a step back.

"I'm not mad at you." I didn't move, allowing Orla to take any space she needed. "And I understand why you think that I'm posh. I am. I come from money. But after my father spent it all, it made me re-evaluate things. While I do like to spend on nice things at times, I take care of them, and I usually keep them for a long time. Like this place. I plan to call it home. I've been ready for a change for a while and coming to Loren Brae has shown me what I've been missing in Edinburgh. A community. Friends. Nature. I'm happy here, and I want to put down roots. And…" I trailed off as I searched her eyes.

"And what?" Orla's voice rasped.

"You're here," I answered simply. Honestly.

"Oh, Fin." It was just a whisper at her lips and I took a careful step forward, closing the distance between us. Her eyes searched mine as I leaned down and ever so slowly brushed the softest of kisses across her lips.

"It's a good home. But you'll tell me what needs fixing."

"Fin…" Orla reached up and clutched my arm. "I hope you didn't buy this just for me."

"And if I did?"

Her eyes widened, her mouth working, and I saw panic flash.

"I didn't, Orla. It's also for me. As I said, I don't make these decisions lightly. But you should know that you deserve someone to show up for you. And I hope you'll see that I am."

"I don't know what to say to that." Orla tapped a hand at her chest, an unconscious movement that I'd seen her do before when she was stressed. It was as though she was tapping on her heart to give her the answers she needed.

"There's nothing to say in the moment. For now, just tell me if I've wasted my money on a pile of shite or not."

Orla laughed, and surprising me, she grabbed my hand.

"Show me around? I'll tell you if you've been taken for a ride."

"God, I hope not. I really like the place."

The ground floor held the main bedroom with an ensuite bath and an open living area with a fireplace, dining area, and kitchen. Stairs led to two nice sized bedrooms that shared a bathroom between them. I'd make one room an office, and the other a guest room as needed. Orla wandered the space, tapping walls, muttering to herself, sizing up the thick wood beams that crossed the ceilings.

"Good bones." Orla glanced over her shoulder at me at the base of the stairs. "Can I go up?"

"Of course." Harris and I followed Orla. I did my best to not stare at her tight bum in the trousers she wore.

"Are you staring at my bum?" Orla demanded, catching me at the top of the stairs.

"It's a great bum. Hard not to when it's in my face, right?"

A grin flashed, and Orla turned, walking into the bedroom at the right. Harris followed and then skidded to a stop. A low growl emanated.

"What's wrong, boy?" I stopped next to him as he stared at an empty corner of the room. Sunlight filtered through the window but did little to bring warmth to this room. I'd have to check that the radiators worked up here.

"Shhh, it's okay, Harris." Orla stroked his head and the dog leaned into her leg, letting out a soft whimper. "That's a good lad. Yes, you are."

"I wonder what has him spooked," I said, turning in a circle. There was nothing that I could see that would have set him off. Two windows, one at the front of the house and one to the back, and deep green carpeting were the only things in the room. The entire place had been sold unfurnished, and I'd need some help with picking the right furniture for the space when the time came .

"Hard to say. Sometimes animals just get spooked. Let's go downstairs? Show me the back garden?" Orla turned and nudged me to move, and I did so, glancing once more over my shoulder at the bedroom.

For a second, I thought I caught a flash of something in the corner, and I shook my head slightly.

It must have just been the light filtering through the branches at the window. A simple enough explanation.

"Come on, Harris. You'll love the backyard. You can roam free as there's a wall all the way around."

"Oh, a new adventure for you, buddy. I'm so pleased you brought him today, Fin." Orla stopped me at the bottom of the stairs. "This is a great house, and I think you'll be happy here. I don't see many issues, but if you don't mind, can I pop back here when I have some of my tools? I just want to check a few things before you start moving in."

"Sure, no problem. I'd love to have your expert opinion." Didn't she have her tools in her truck? She could do it now. I didn't want to put her out, not when I knew how busy she already was. But before I could suggest it, she was leading Harris out back and I let it go. If she wanted to come back, I was more than happy with that decision.

It just gave me more time to spend with her and ease her into being comfortable with the idea of us here. Together.

As a couple.

Just the way I hoped it would be.