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“Aye,” he answers quietly, leaning to press his lips to my cheek. “Maybe you are.” He still looks thoughtful when he straightens, hisbrow knitted and his mouth pursed. “Don’t get too excited, though. It could be nothing.”

“It’s not,” I tell him resolutely. “It’s not nothing. I can feel it.”

He gestures for me to follow him then, no doubt needing the distraction of the morning farm duties, and I can tell that he’s still not convinced. That he’s not allowing himself to hope that this means something. That we can even find the damned thing if it does. And that’s okay, I think.

Maybe I can have enough hope for the both of us.

22

Lachlan

“I can’t believe I let Blair strong-arm me into this,” I grumble.

Key grins down at me as I give her a boost up the ladder to her makeshift “tower.” “You mean you don’t want to fight for my honor?”

“That’s not even how the story goes,” I huff. “Blair has manipulated this entire thing to boost beer sales.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Key calls down.

I watch as she shimmies up onto the wooden platform, finding the carved “throne” that consists of a tree stump carved down into a seat with a backrest, looking like she’s enjoying this far too much.

“It’s a nice view from up here,” she says, adjusting her plastic tiara.

I frown up at her, fists against my hips. “First you make a fuss about me calling you princess; now you’re wearing tiaras?”

“I don’t know,” she says, winking at me. “Maybe it’s growing on me. I’m also lovingyouroutfit today.”

I frown down at the kilt brushing along my knees; it was my da’s, and it’s utterly ancient, but Blair said it was a requirement to enter. Something about really getting into the spirit of the games. At this point, they barely have anything to do with the story of the pub’s name. I’m pretty sure she’s just looking for a laugh.

I scoff under my breath, shaking my head as I turn to regard the other contestants. The field behind the pub is crowded with people I’ve known my entire life as well as new faces of tourists, no doubt enticed in by the discounted beer and promise of sweaty men—all milling about with a brew in hand, laughing and chatting among themselves as they wait for the games to begin. I hadn’t planned on participating, I really hadn’t, but then I spotted Isla’s twins strutting around in their shredded tanks with their bronzed muscles and their matching heartthrob smiles, and well…turns out that maybe I am a bit of the jealous sort. Who knew.

“All right, Lachlan?”

I catch sight of Hamish just as his hand slaps the center of my back, his blue eyes twinkling in the midmorning sunlight as he smiles up at me.

“I’d be better if I were in a bloody seat and not out here on the field,” I mutter. I arch a brow at him. “Don’t tell me you’re competing?”

“And why not?” He puffs up a bit. “Don’t think I couldn’t teach you young pups a thing or two.”

I just stare at him until he finally blows out a breath.

“Fine, fine,” he relents. “Blair asked me to announce the festivities.”

“Lucky you.”

“I suspect she only asked me because she knows I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Probably. You’re the only person here she can trust not to end up passed out on the grass by the end of the day.”

Hamish nods before nudging me in the side. “And what’s got you itching to compete?” He flashes me a sly smile. “Don’t tell me you’re after a kiss from the bonnie MacKay girl, aye?”

I don’t tell him I know the exact noise the “bonnie MacKay girl” makes when my tongue is between her legs, figuring that giving old Hamish a heart attack wouldn’t go over well.

I shrug instead. “I’m just helping out the twins.”

“Sure, sure,” he laughs. “And my middle name isn’t Elsbeth.”

My nose wrinkles. “Wait, is it?”