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“This is great,” Key says earnestly. “Thank you. I’ll drive out tomorrow if the weather is better.”

“You do that,” Blair hums. “And best not tell your cousin, yeah?” She leans in conspiratorially. “Not really the adventuring type, Brodie.”

Key’s cheeks take on that sweet shade of pink again, and she bites her lip as she glances around to make sure the cousin in question isn’t in earshot. “He said he works for the Inverness Historical Society, though. He probably knows a lot more than me.”

“He’s a bloody numpty,” Rory chuffs. “I promise you don’t want him coming with you. Can’t take a joke to save his life, that one.”

Brodie appears in the hallway entry to the bathrooms, and the group of us quiets down, but I notice Keyanna tuck the leaflet into her pocket, just as I notice she doesn’t say a word about it when Rory starts in on Brodie about something or another.

I cock an eyebrow when she notices I’ve caught this, rolling hereyes when I smirk, but I have a feeling she won’t be saying a word to dear old cousin Brodie about her trip tomorrow.

It almost makes me feel bad for keeping quiet about Rory and Blair’s fun.

Almost.

5

Keyanna

Rhona and my grandpawereasleep by the time Brodie and I got back from the pub, and I can’t be sure if I was disappointed or grateful for it. Rhona has made it no secret how she feels about me being here, and even with Finlay’s bright enthusiasm—it’s hard not to let that get to me.

I spent a fitful night tossing and turning in the room Rhona set me up in; the bed there has to be older than I am, if not more, and by the time I wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and coffee, I feel like my back has just as many lumps in it as the mattress. Fitting, really, considering how bumpy a start I’ve had here.

I crawl out of bed and stretch to try and get the crick out of my neck, tucking my feet into my wool slippers with little mushrooms smattered across them as I reach for my robe. The aroma of cooking food is enticing, and it’s enough to give me strength to weather whatever might be waiting for me downstairs. If nothing else, at least Finlay can act as a buffer, since he seems to actuallylikethe fact that I’m here.

I find my three other temporary housemates puttering around in the kitchen downstairs—Rhona at the oven and Finlay squinting at a newspaper while Brodie sips at a mug of what smells like verystrong coffee on the opposite side of the table. They both look up when they see me, Brodie giving me a tired-looking nod and Finlay offering up a wide smile.

“Morning,” he calls brightly, folding the newspaper and setting it on the table. “Och, you look right tired, love. Did you sleep well?”

I don’t want to be the one to tell them that their guest mattress is long past its day and due for a good burn, so I force a smile instead. “I slept fine. I think it’s just the time change. Jet lag, you know.”

“Oh, aye, that makes sense.” He nods. “What time would it be in New York?”

I glance at the clock on the wall, which reads just after eight. “Three in the morning.”

“That’ll do it,” Finlay chuckles. He pats the seat next to him. “Come, come. Sit.”

I settle into the chair next to him, running my fingers through my wild curls to try and push them out of my eyes. “It smells good in here.”

“That’ll be your granny,” Finlay says. “Best cook in all of Scotland.”

Rhona makes a tutting sound from the oven without even looking our way. “Flattery will not get you more bacon,” she hmphs. “You know what the doctor said.”

“That man is full of shite,” Finlay scoffs. He thumps his chest. “I’m healthy as an ox.”

Rhona turns then with a steaming plate, setting it in front of her husband. “Stubborn as one too.” She finally takes the time to look at me then, her eyes cool as her mouth thins. “You hungry?”

“I—” The iciness of her stare threatens to make me buckle, and I have to force myself a little straighter to answer her, determined not to let her standoffishness deter me. “Yeah, I am. Please.”

Rhona nods once, turning back to the oven. “Any particular way you want your eggs?”

“Whatever you’re doing for everyone else is fine,” I tell her. “Do you need any help?”

She glances at me over her shoulder with slightly narrowed eyes. “You don’t think I know my way around my own kitchen?”

“No,” I say immediately. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, hush, Rhonnie,” Finlay grouses. “You know she was just being polite.”