Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Orla

" D id you hear there are otters up by the Auld Mill?" Derrick, my head joiner, asked me as we measured for custom cabinetry to store the botanicals as Finlay had requested. Well, the cabinetry was more for the tools and smaller storage containers, as the botanicals themselves would be held in larger opaque containers to protect the ingredients. I was told they were stored before a maceration process that would extract the flavor to be added to the gin. Examples given to me were dried citrus peels, juniper berries, and grains of paradise. It sounded interesting, but my job wasn't to figure out how to make the gin. I just needed to create the space for Munroe to succeed. Which meant I was more interested in— did this room need to be regulated for humidity? What type of electrical wiring needed to be run through here to heat or cool the space? Would I need an extractor fan to pull any moisture from the room? The precision required here wasn't about the process of gin-making so much as keeping the ingredients in tip-top condition so Common Gin could create the best product possible.

Humidity and temperature control were everything—not too warm, not too cold, not too dry, and not too moist.

The botanicals needed a stable environment.

Much like myself, I realized, as I studied the small window in the storage room and wondered if it would be a failure point for humidity control. I might need to create custom shutters for the window or perhaps seal it up entirely, just to make sure the space was safe.

"Yes, someone mentioned something about protected land," I said, tuning back into the conversation. Derrick was well used to long pauses in a conversation with me while we worked, otherwise nothing would ever get done, and I made a mental note to talk to Finlay about the small window.

"They want to make a visitor center of sorts. For the otters." Derrick grunted as he got down on his knees and pried at a corner of the floor, testing the wood.

"That'll be grand, won't it?" Any talk of animal rescues piqued my interest, and while I didn't know much about otters, the pictures of them I'd seen holding hands—wait, paws—were pretty cute.

"Running into some problems though." Derrick grunted again, shifting on his knees, and dropped his reading glasses onto his nose. He was in his early sixties, not likely to retire anytime soon, and I was lucky to have him on my crew. Not only was he protective of me, having two daughters of his own, but he was a master joiner, and his craftsmanship showed it. I'd found him when I moved to the area, and he'd been happy to head up my team, as he'd just been leaving a partnership with a dissolving commercial construction group. Clarke Construction had kept him rooted in the area, and his wife was equally as happy to not have to move elsewhere for work.

"Is that so? Such a shame." I knew as well as anyone the holdups that came with renovations, from delays on materials to unreliable tradesmen.

"Haunted, I'm told." Derrick didn't look at me, but he paused, waiting for my reaction.

We never spoke of it, yet he knew, in some capacity, of my ability to see ghosts. During the second project he'd worked with me on, an extension on a house, the crew had been spooked by a supposed apparition of the ghost of a little girl. I'd stayed late that night, speaking to her, and had helped her to move on—clearing the energy in the house so we could proceed. What I hadn't known was Derrick had come back for his wallet he'd left in his toolbox and had seen me talking to an empty room.

The next morning, he'd mentioned he'd returned to the house, and I'd frozen, unsure of what to do. Derrick had patted me on the shoulder. "Things are calmer in here now."

That was it. He'd never mentioned it directly, and we'd moved on, the crew happy to work in a space not fraught with unseen tension. I'd worried, for weeks, that Derrick would gossip with the crew or share my secret, but he'd never once said a word.

Again, protective .

He was a good man and I understood what he was telling me now.

"Is that right?"

"Seems so. Loren Brae has a lot of such activity. But it's holding up the project."

"Is the visitor center a good thing? Maybe it's better for the otters if nobody is there." I had to consider the possibilities from both sides before I went and did something about it. Because I knew, in his own direct way, that Derrick was asking me to act.

"The organization has raised enough money to buy the land around it, which will give the otters more protection from any future development, but they'll need ongoing funds for the maintenance and whatnot. Plus they want to educate people. Turn it into a nature center of sorts. Even have a Zen Garden, I'm told, for people to relax and have a spot of tea."

"It's a beautiful building," I admitted. "What organization is this?"

"An Irish couple, actually. Brogan and Kira. They have a center over in Grace's Cove on the West Coast of Ireland. Now that they've seen success with their first nature center, they're expanding their reach across Ireland, and now Scotland, looking for otter habitats that can be protected."

"Isn't that something?" The paths people took in life always interested me. Particularly when so few opportunities had been offered to me. Rescuing otters hadn't been high on the list of profitable ways to keep a roof over my head. But it cheered me to know that people like that existed in the world and did something to help .

"They do good work, I'm told." Derrick sat back on his heels and glanced at me.

"Och, sure, I'll give it a look." This was the closest I'd ever gotten to acknowledging what Derrick had seen that day. Derrick gave a sharp nod.

"The wife has a particular liking for the otters."

Ah, that made more sense now. Derrick had a deeply entrenched sweet spot for his wife, and I admired his quiet devotion to her. I wanted that someday, for myself.

At least I thought that I did.

"I also like otters," a voice interrupted us, and I turned to see Finlay standing in the doorway.

"Just gotta grab my toolbox," Derrick said, standing and exiting the room, giving Finlay a quick nod as he passed.

"Are you bidding to work on the Auld Mill project?" Finlay stepped farther into the room, and my attention narrowed to a pinhole, all focus on him and his deeply handsome face. It was like he'd sucked the air from the room, and all I could hear was my heart thundering in my ears as he drew closer.

We hadn't spoken much since he'd asked, er, paid for me to go to the gala. This was the first time we'd been alone since, and nerves kicked low in my gut as I tried to steady my breathing. There was just something about Finlay that put me on my back foot, whether I was ready to fight or flee, I wasn't entirely sure, but his presence certainly threw me off kilter.

"Nae chance." I shook my head. "I've got more on my slate than I can handle at the moment."

"Then why are you going to take a look? "

So he'd heard more than I'd thought he'd had.

I shrugged, looking away and focusing on the window across the room.

"It's for a good cause. In case they want a second opinion, I can offer it."

"Maybe it's best if you stay away from there."

"Excuse me?" I whipped my head around, glaring at Finlay. The man had paid for one date. One . He certainly didn't get to tell me what to do.

"I just think, given the rumor that it's haunted, that it's best if you stayed away from the building."

I raised an eyebrow at him and put my hands on my hips.

"Surely you aren't presuming to come in here and tell me what I can and can't do with my time? Particularly when it would be after hours and off the clock. Or are you thinking you're the boss of me in all aspects of my life now?" I left the rest unspoken—the part where he'd paid me for a date—and Finlay stepped closer. He stopped just short of invading my space, yet his presence had invaded it since the moment he'd walked into the room. His nearness was palpable, and when his gaze drifted over me, goosebumps shivered down my skin as though his hands followed where his eyes went. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

Not that I should care, but now that I was going to a gala with him, I kind of, actually, really did care.

Did he think I was pretty?

Annoyed at myself, and my response to him, I waited, my hand resting at the hammer slung in my tool belt. It comforted me, though I likely looked like I was holding onto a holster.

A wolfish look slipped across Finlay's face, and heat bloomed low inside me.

"Of course, I'm not the boss of you…in some aspects of your life, that is…" Finlay let the words linger, and my mouth went dry at what was left unspoken.

But I could be, in other areas, if you let me.

I knew what he was leaving unsaid, my body knew it as well, based on the desire that rippled through me, but my mind refused to accept that a man like Finlay would be interested in a woman like me. Even though he strapped on his fancy work boots and showed up at the site every day, we were still worlds apart, him and me.

"Mr. Thompson." I enjoyed the annoyance that flashed in his eyes and turned to the window, neatly changing the subject. "I need to ask you about this window. I'm told this room needs to be tightly regulated when it comes to humidity and temperature. As it stands, this window is drafty at best, which, naturally, we'd refit and seal with a new one. However, my question is, would it be best to seal it completely? I'm told the botanicals are stored in opaque containers to help keep desired freshness, and I'm just wondering if this could be a potential failure point for your storage?"

Finlay moved toward the window, and I shivered as he passed me, his arm lightly brushing mine. A spark jumped between us, energy ricocheting up my body, and I had to force myself to ignore this response I was having to him.

It wasn't like I hadn't been with a man before.

But something about Finlay just captured my attention in a way that I wasn't remotely comfortable with. He made me feel almost skittish, like a newborn foal finding its legs, and I couldn't say that I was a fan of this disconcerting feeling. Finding stability and centering myself was an equilibrium that I'd fought for, and my goal was to maintain that for as long as I could. A stable foundation, one that I'd built myself, was integral to me finding peace. Finlay, with his fancy galas and dominating manner, was not a part of the future I'd built for myself.

Finlay tapped a finger on the window, and then ran his hand along the seams, his lips pressed together as he studied the glass. I'd noticed he did that, gave any questions serious thought, and I appreciated that he genuinely listened to the crew when they came to him.

"While I hate to lose the light, as I love the character of this building, it might be best to seal it up."

"I could build shutters, on the interior, that you could open while you were working in here. Double-glazed window, a new sill, and you'd have this sealed nicely. I could foam pad the backside of the shutters, almost like you would for soundproofing, and that would help. If you really wanted to keep the window, or at least the aesthetic in here."

"I just wonder if that's being excessive for a small window, when it is likely easier to seal it up."

"Could be. But I agree, it is nice to have in here. Do people spend a lot of time in this space?"

"They will, yes. We're constantly adding new stock, monitoring, sorting, and rotating old stock. Everything is dated and inspected regularly to ensure the freshness of ingredients. "

"Your employees could open the shutters while they worked and then close them up when they left. If they wanted the natural light."

Finlay squinted up at the ceiling.

"We'll do warm light in here. Not fluorescents. I hate working under florescent lights."

"Aye, they're a touch annoying, aren't they?"

"Horrible. I used to work in an office that only had that type of lighting. I swear I went home with a headache almost every day."

"I can imagine. It serves its purposes, but not for in here." I wanted to ask him about his job, the one he hated, and if he was happier now. But I didn't, not really knowing how to strike up a casual conversation with him, because what if I asked about something that was a bad memory in his life? It was one of the reasons I hated being asked questions about my own past. Difficult life experiences didn't always make for fun conversations, I'd learned, and I was now an expert at diverting to other topics.

"What the…" Finlay's body tensed, and I felt the magick before I even turned.

A unicorn stood outside the small window.

Let me repeat that.

A unicorn stood outside the window . A glorious pearlescent horn jutted from her head, white mane flowed in the wind, and her coat shimmered as though she'd been dipped in opalescent paint. She snorted, tossing her head, and dipped her horn toward the window where Finlay and I now crowded together, our shoulders touching. I held my breath, my thoughts scrambling, as I witnessed the most beautiful being I'd ever seen before. It was as though her opal eyes held untold galaxies of knowledge, and a warm balm of love and acceptance washed through me, tears springing to my eyes.

"We have to see her!" Finlay grabbed my hand and tugged, dragging me from the room and out through the front door, racing around the side of the building together. But by the time we reached where she'd stood, the unicorn was gone.

A glimmer of a moment now lost.

I felt bereft, as though something beautiful, a piece of my soul, had been taken from me. And in the same instance, as though an incredible gift had been bestowed upon us.

"I've never…I've seen some strange things in my life, but that was incredible. Och, lass, did you see her?" Finlay whirled and I jerked as he lifted me into his arms, twirling us both in excitement. My body froze, my typical reaction to uninvited touch, but Finlay was too ecstatic to notice.

Once I recovered from the initial shock of his arms around my waist, I realized that I didn't quite mind having him touch me. He held me out of sheer excitement, and I couldn't blame him. The unicorn had been extraordinary.

A shared moment. That was all this was.

"I did." I laughed at him, little bubbles of giddiness rising in me like a shaken bottle of champagne. "Unbelievable."

"Incredible. Just incredible." Finlay twirled us once more, and I enjoyed this unfiltered look at him, when he wasn't in "boss" mode. His excitement was palpable, like a child's on Christmas morning, and I didn't want to poke a hole in his joy by insisting he put me down. It didn't matter, not really, since I knew he wasn't a threat to me. I wasn't sure how I knew that, but I just did. Years of fending for yourself gave you a pretty good radar on who was out to hurt you.

"A fecking unicorn. Of all things." Finlay's gaze dropped to my face, and our eyes held, something deepening between us. The air grew thick with tension, the kind that made me squirm and wish for a moment alone with the toy in my bedside table, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

Now it was time for me to get down.

I tapped his arm lightly.

"Permission to disembark, sir," I said, keeping my tone light, but needing to remind him he was holding me off the ground. On my own worksite of all things.

"Och, right. I'm sorry. Shite, I really have made a habit of grabbing you, haven't I? I'm sorry for it, Orla. I'll try to do better."

"Thank you." I wasn't going to placate him or tell him that I didn't mind, even when I didn't really mind all that much. Which was a thought to be examined later, as usually I was a stickler for appropriate workplace interactions. It's why I had women who enjoyed working on my crew as well. They knew that I ran a tight ship, and the men who worked with us respected the rules, just as the women weren't allowed to harass the men. Construction sites were notorious for lewd talk, but my workers kept it respectful with each other. It was a point I prided myself on. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

"Incredible." Finlay's face was alight with joy, as he searched the trees that lined the back of the building. " Absolutely incredible. I can't believe it. Surely that wasn't real."

"She seemed pretty real, dinnae she?" I pulled my eyes away from his handsome face and forced myself to steady my breathing. A unicorn and being held by Finlay? It was senses overload for this girl, that was for sure.

"I wonder what it means. If anything. Should we not be building here? Was it a warning? What if this is her habitat and we're ruining it?"

"Och, that's not the feeling I got," I said, tilting my head as I considered it. "It felt…soothing. Like she approved, or something. And we're not building all that much, are we? We're using what's existing here, with a slight extension. It's not like we're developers taking down the forest or something."

"True, true," Finlay murmured, hands in his pockets. He shook his head. "Just absolutely incredible."

"Aye." We stood in silence for a moment longer, and then I shifted, knowing I was needed back inside. "Well, I should crack on."

"Right, of course."

It felt weird, to just walk away from him, after a moment like we'd just had, but I didn't know what else to do.

I fist-bumped his arm lightly.

"Well done," I said, and then turned abruptly and stalked away, silently berating myself. Well done? What the hell did that even mean? And this was why I didn't make much time for dating. I was catastrophically awkward, even at the most mundane of times, and apparently, more so, in epic moments .

I'd punched his arm. Well done?

"Well done" what, exactly? "Well done" on spotting a freaking unicorn?

Och, I was going to be kicking myself all day for that one.

"Orla, any decision on the window?" Derrick called to me from the stockroom, and I forced myself back into work mode, grateful for the diversion.

Well done , indeed.