After her long soak in the tub, she opened her wardrobe to wear a dress. It was proving to be a gloriously sunny day, and she felt like a town book sale demanded she made a little more effort with her appearance. After all, her community was getting the first glimpses of the ‘outsider.’ She had been here a couple of weeks, cooped up in this cottage, surrounded by the mess and eating microwave food and oven meals. A trip to check out the local shops was not a bad idea. She could pick up something fresh, maybe even some cakes, and take Muffin for a stroll beyond the gravel road that led out onto the main road from her tree-covered nook.
Pulling out a fitted baby pink sundress that flared out from the waist and brushed her knees. She slid her feet into matching flat pumps and brushed out her long dark hair, pinning it up the back of her head loosely, so tendrils fell around her face. Her skin had tanned to a lovely shade from all the garden work the last couple of days, and she applied minimum makeup. A spritz of her favourite perfume, a glance in the mirror to approve how she looked with a satisfied nod.
She grabbed a cream-coloured canvas shoulder bag to throw her purse in and girly essentials, like strawberry lip balm and sunscreen spray. She picked up her baby pink framed sunglasses, Audrey Hepburn style, and picked up Muffin and his leash.
Ready to rumble!
Rose sang tunelessly when she swept out to her car with the dog in tow.
Her little pink mini shone in the sunlight in front of the cottage, relieved to be free of boxes and roof rack and crying out to be driven. Lovely and clean from her morning washing and polishing days before. Rose had always had a pink obsession since childhood, always obsessed with all things pink, girly, and sparkly. Her car had been her one indulgence in London, going for a baby pink, a tiny car that suited her girly - All things cute obsession. She had hated that every male she dated criticised it, which was partially why none of them made it beyond two weeks with her.
Blaring the summer hits CD, she pulled out with Muffin in the passenger seat and headed along the road. Pulling out onto the main road and reaching speed quickly, she sang and smiled at how free she felt. Energised by this impromptu outing and the glorious sunshine, which was not typical for Scotland this early in the summer. It was truly shaping up to be a wonderful day.
Out of nowhere, the nose of a black car poked out in front of her from the tree-edged hedge way, causing her to swerve and scream as she tried to hit the brakes in alarm. Her car skidded halfway across the road with an almighty screech before slamming to a halt, and Rose fell forward on her steering wheel, trying to catch her breath; sure, she had just suffered a major heart attack.
Grabbing at Muffin to feel he was still in one piece, her hands began shaking violently, and her heart pounded through her chest; trying to keep her head on the wheel to steady her breathing and calm her nerves, she could feel her rage rising.
Who in the actual hell???? What the actual f...?
Her car door was ripped open beside her, causing her to snap around and glare angrily into the steel-coloured eyes facing her, which had suddenly appeared too close.
‘Are you o...’ A smooth and deep voice that sounded genuinely concerned tried to infiltrate her red haze, but she had already hit maximum rage.
‘What in the actual hell are you doing???’ She screeched at the face before her, not taking in the jet-black hair, tanned skin, or intense grey eyes belonging to the tall stranger. Ordinarily, this kind of sexy would have put Rose in a slump of panting hormones, but Rose just saw red!
‘You could have killed me!!! Are you aware that road is a sixty? You pulled out into traffic on a goddamn sixty!’ She pulled herself out of her seat, releasing her belt to square her small five-foot-four to the huge six-foot frame before her. Anger seared her every nerve at the sheer stupidity of the man. He quickly stood back, looking almost shocked as she continued to yell at him about his idiotic driving manoeuvre with hands firmly on her hips and letting fiery Rose loose.
‘Whoa there, Penelope!’ Splaying his hands in defence as he tried to calm her rant. ‘Look, I’m sorry! I’m sure I got as much of a shock as you! Most folks know how bad the view is for me coming out and crossing to the other side to pass the manor opening!’ He was defensively moving away from Rose as she continued waving her hands, cursing at him about recklessness and moronic men with stupidly fast and flashy cars. Rose was on a roll. She stopped suddenly, realising something he had said.
‘Who the hell is Penelope?’ She blinked in confused fury, but he only laughed at her sudden change in persona, then tried to smother it with a cough.
Smooth move, mister! Asshole. God, You’re Hot!
Rose only seemed to notice this little fact now that she was inches from him.
His shocked manner seemed to flip into smiling, good-humoured, if not a little embarrassed, but Rose was beyond oblivious in her mental state.
‘You!... Sorry, it’s just... Pink car... Pink dress... Fiery little lady who comes out like a bat out of hell, like she’s about to rip my head off...’ The handsome stranger stood with hands up defensively, smiling at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world to everyone except her. Rose stood motionless. Cluelessness and confusion all over her face added to her internal irritation at his far too-good-looking smugness.
‘Penelope Pitstop from wacky races?’ He tried again to get her brain to connect to whatever the hell he was talking about. ‘Look, never mind. It’s just, that’s what I thought when I opened your door.’ He was laughing in a rather deep and husky way, which only enraged her more and brought out another bought of fury.
‘Screw you and your stupid wacky whatever’s! Next time watch where you’re going, asshole! Or next time, I won’t swerve!’ She turned and threw herself back into her car in the most unladylike manner, attempting to grab her door, so she could dramatically slam it. All previous ounces of rage reconnected with her inner diva, but he caught it first.
‘Allow me.’ He slammed it shut with the force of a guy who had reconnected with anger. The humour was absent from his face and replaced with ‘I’m pissed off, lady.’ Their eyes glinted at one another angrily, fire meeting fire. Sparks ignited in the air around them and almost crackled with the collision.
Rose didn’t wait for any further conversation. Putting metal to the floor, she sped off without hesitation, almost taking him out with her wing mirror in the process and giving zero care about it.
Rose wasn’t sure why this guy had invoked such a furious response, but all she wanted was to put a huge distance between her and that smug laugh and get rid of the ball of internal anger writhing inside her. She could see the arrogant sod in her mirror, shaking his head after her, watching her drive off before walking back to his flashy black car and sliding back in with the grace of a cougar.
‘Asshole!’ She screeched loudly, angered at the sheer effortless grace the idiot was displaying.
Muffin looked at her with wide, wise eyes, almost telling her she had lost the plot.
‘Well, he is! Mr, I’m so good-looking with my big muscles, sports car, and expensive clothes. So Mr smooth, I think I can give you a cute pet name, and you forget I almost killed you!’ She slapped her wheel, eyes darting from the road to the rearview mirror manically as she tried not to cause a further accident with stupid driving.
‘Fuck you! ... Ow, that actually hurt.’ She lifted her fingers to her mouth and blew them gently to soothe the self-inflicted burning pain, releasing some of her tension as she did so. That ‘almost’ crash had given her a massive fright, and her reactions since had been some delayed mental breakdown brought on by a near-death experience. Being confronted by a guy who was far too handsome for an early morning rural drive added to her extreme reaction.
I mean, who the hell was he? Wearing designer clothes and a flashy car and looking a little too sophisticated for the highlands. Men like him were normally arrogant Londoners; she had met enough to last a lifetime.
Pushing that irritatingly flawless face out of her mind, she suddenly felt remorseful for swearing angrily in front of Muffin and sat back in her chair, trying to release the tightness of her muscles. Flexing her shoulders and tilting her head from side to side to flex her neck. Slow, steady, calming breaths and internal chanting to cool her jets.
The black sports car appeared in her rear-view mirror, coming up behind her fast, and she instantly tensed back up, teeth gritting and eyes narrowing angrily. Putting the foot down, she sped away from him before reaching the sign for the town and slowing back down again as she passed it. Completely pointless but satisfying, to say the least, riled by how this man made her feel. Throwing daggers from her eyes in the mirror, she slowed to thirty and meandered through town looking for a car park as the car behind her turned off at the huge museum; she sighed with relief at his departure.
Hot or not, I don’t need you behind me today!
‘Asshole.’ She muttered to no one in particular and hit the indicator to turn into a big half-empty car park. Within minutes Rose found a space easily and expertly deposited her car, latching Muffin's lead on and exiting gracefully with a much sunnier disposition.
Although the town was bustling with pedestrians, most came via a little free bus from surrounding areas, and few drove. The streets were quiet from traffic and felt peaceful, despite the people milling around. Wandering about, she soon managed to navigate her surroundings, quaint little shops ranging from the normal grocery stores to cute little boutiques, home decor, crafts, and tourist shops. Several cafes and a huge bakery shop sat very close to the car park she had used.
It was a pretty and picturesque little town with lots of barrels filled with flowers, park benches to pretty it up, and lots of potted trees and quaint, old-fashioned street lamps. It was more beautiful than even her memories, and she could see the appeal for tourists. This was proper highland charm right here.
She browsed the shops before pursuing the church she had not seen, buying the odd necessity and getting a feel for the place. Rose was happy to find that although it wasn’t exactly the small town of her childhood memories, it was unchanged enough that she got a familiar tug of emotion deep in the pit of her stomach just the same. This had been Olivia’s favourite place. She would have loved to see it thriving but still held all the same charm as before, as though caught in a time warp.
After successfully not finding the church in the small town and seeing a lack of mulling locals, Rose decided to head to the coffee shop in the bakery to rest her weary feet. It wasn’t signposted, and no obvious roofs rose above the rest to indicate where the church would be. She had put Muffin back in the car with a bowl of water, a new bone, the windows opened, and the radio on before coming to get something to eat and ask for directions.
She was sure her car and the dog would be safe from a break-in in this little place. Besides, her alarm was loud and immobilised her vehicle easily, and although Muffin wasn’t much of a guard dog, he did have this incredibly scary toothy face he pulled when he was frightened and tried his version of a broken growl. If nothing more, it would scare away any lingerers; it made him look a little rabid and possibly mentally unhinged.
As soon as she opened the door, the smell of newly baked bread and fancies hit her like a warm hug. She wanted to fall into that smell. It was so heavenly, and she had memories flooding back and filling her with warmth, chasing away the last ounces of anger. She almost felt transported back to her childhood and eagerly swept in to see if they still stocked her favourite cakes.
The tables were almost all empty, with the odd couple or group sitting far apart, quietly chatting and oblivious to her entrance. There was a relaxed, friendly atmosphere, despite being a stranger here, and she felt better that no one was openly staring and pointing as she had feared.
The girl behind the counter, dressed in a green uniform reminiscent of school dinner ladies, smiled at Rose as she approached, with no expression other than friendly.
‘Hi there, what can ah get for yeh today?’ The girl asked in a polite yet very heavily accented brogue that suggested she had grown up in the farms surrounding the town.
‘Hi, can I have a jam tart and a hot chocolate, please? Thank you.’ Rose smiled back and pulled her purse from her shoulder bag, breathing in the fresh ground coffee bean smell wafting her way.
‘Sure thing, will just be two ticks for yeh.’ The girl turned on her heel and moved off to arrange Rose’s order on a tray, allowing her to look around the clean surroundings properly.
Glancing around, she took in the bright, simple decor. The mint-coloured walls and dark wood floor all seemed new. The cases of fancy patisseries and treats and the huge display showcasing elaborately decorated cakes for seasons and celebrations. It didn’t have small town oozing from it, which saddened Rose a little.
This bakery had been one of her favourite places to come on a weekend with her aunt when it had been a small corner shop, not the huge one she now stood within.
The bakery her aunt had loved had been small and quaint and had grown into the neighbouring shops over time to accommodate more seating and bigger kitchens. The woman who used to run it was an Italian woman called Bella. A large round warm lady who had enveloped little Rose in cuddles and always satisfied her sweet tooth with a cream cake when they had come. Rose guessed this is what success looked like when a small-town bakery managed to keep going for decades. As she looked around at the modern art and clean, simple window dressings, Rose was suddenly aware of the young woman at the window table, smiling at her openly.
Rose glanced away awkwardly, assuming she was smiling at someone behind Rose. But a quick look showed no one had come in behind her, and she was the only one standing there. Rose looked back again, catching the girl’s eye, and gained another bright smile. This time Rose smiled back and returned her gaze to the counter as her hot chocolate and strawberry tart were placed on the tray in front of her. Rose took the little round wooden tray with its paper lace doily and moved off, looking to choose a seat. The girl beckoned to her with a waving hand, catching her eye, and tapped the table, showing she was offering her a seat. Rose hesitated, then followed the gesture and approached shyly
‘Hi.’ She got close and slid her tray onto the table opposite the dark-haired stranger.
‘Hi, there.’ The girl smiled the most dazzling smile Rose had ever seen, all perfect straight white teeth and pretty, pouted lips, although there was something vaguely familiar about it. She had long black hair, the colour of raven feathers, pale flawless skin with peachy blushed cheeks, and dazzling green eyes that sparkled out at you mischievously. She was dressed casually, and it made her appear very young. She was young, maybe in her early twenties or late teens, and stunningly beautiful in a casual, naïve way.
She extended her hand, announcing her name was Abby, Abigail, but everyone called her Abby. That she was killing time and could do with the company.
‘I’m Rose Turner. As you enter the village, I just moved into the little cottage on the main road.’ She smiled back at the pretty face and saw her nod, hinting she knew exactly which cottage.
‘It’s nice to see a new young face, especially a girl. We don’t get many newcomers.’ Abby beamed her way, lifting her mug and sipping some coffee; Rose felt an instant ease with this girl, a genuine friendliness.
Conversation soon began to flow, and Abby told Rose she was studying art history and held up textbooks from the seat beside her as if to prove her story was legit. A face-down book was on the table before her, a plate with a half-eaten chocolate doughnut, and an empty coffee mug. She was waiting for her brother, collecting her after four, and loved to spend her free time in Bella’s bakery. Rose loved this girl's down-to-earth, straight-shooting attitude and genuine openness. She had always found the people in this village to be like this.
Rose was thrilled to hear Bella was still around and owned this place. She learned that Abby was nineteen and incredibly easy to talk to, sweet and genuine. Despite looking very young, she was very mature and well-spoken. Although typical for around here, her accent had a slight upper-class clearness, much like the male strangers this morning.
The girls found conversation flowed effortlessly and had an immediate connection. Both were artists and loved to paint! Both were obsessed with the Sunflower painting by Van Gogh, and both didn’t like abstract art in the slightest. Abby ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over Rose's dress and almost died of envy when she told her that her car was pink too.
‘Rob told me he’d never let me have a pink car.’ She laughed. ‘He said it would embarrass his manly self to take it for maintenance. Of course, because I would be completely incapable of doing such things, being a woman!’ She joked with a slow shake of her head and a sigh. An obvious look of sibling love in her eyes when she said his name.
‘So, Rob is your brother?’ Rose enquired, trying to imagine her older brothers being that way so many years before. It had been so long since her two brothers, and she shared the same time zone, let alone home.
Why did that name ring a bell? Rob?
‘Yes. Older, pain in the ass brother, who sometimes thinks he’s my dad!’ She smiled, moving her book aside and leaning her elbows on the table. ‘I mean, my dad’s still around, but Rob takes care of us. My mum passed away when I was fourteen, and he took over. Dad was a mess, and well, he’s in his seventies now, so it made sense.’ She looked far away for a moment, then returned to reality, returned from a moment of sadness that Rose knew only too well; missing a loved one was something you never got over. ‘Dad married a younger woman, you see.’ She winked cheekily. ‘Rob was born when dad was already in his late forties, and I came in his late fifties.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess they wanted more kids in between, but it never happened. So just the two of us, in that big house, and then dad, of course. The rest of the family lives further away.’
‘It’s nice, though, that he’s so protective, and you’re close. Both my brothers live abroad. One is in the RAF, he’s currently in America, and the other emigrated to Australia to become a marine biologist. My parents live in Edinburgh, so I’m on my lonesome.’ Rose couldn’t help but notice the effortless way the two women had just slipped into sharing life stories. It felt as if she had always known Abby.
‘I couldn’t imagine not having family around me all the time. Don’t you get lonely or scared?’ Abby scrutinised Rose's face seriously. Trying to figure out the girl.
‘I’m used to it; I lived in London for six years to further my career and didn’t make many friends. Life was too fast-paced, and everyone just wanted to succeed or party. I missed normal slow living and genuine people.’ Rose took a mouthful of her drink and watched Abby toy with her empty mug.
‘You sound like Rob. He lived in Glasgow for a couple of years when he went to Uni to study business. He said he couldn’t wait to return to home life, the town, and the Manor.’
It suddenly hit Rose sitting there, that tiny word within a sentence.
Manor!
This was Abigail Munro! She was the Laird’s sister!
Running through the scene earlier in her head and piecing the fragments together in a split second, she felt her stomach lurching as it clicked into place. That familiar smile. That black hair, and although the eyes were not grey, she had his eyes. That same cheeky look when he smiled. The hint of dimples when she smiled. Just like his. That flawless skin and attractive bone structure. The easy confidence and the upper-class dialect which was not common around here.
Surely, he couldn’t be? Could he?
He’d been leaving the Munro estate and said, ‘Most people know I have a bad view of the road.’ Or something along those lines. Rose felt the colour drain from her face as it sunk in that her first encounter of the day with the asshole had not been just any asshole, but this lovely girl’s brother and the Laird of her new hometown. The Laird, who had invited her to his ball!!
‘Are you okay?’ The look of concern on Abby’s face only struck it home, so alarmingly like his.
Damn!
Even the same question as he had yanked open her car door. They were so alike it was traumatising. Rose feigned a smile and then let her head drop into her palms, groaning aloud. She felt like a moron, prize ‘A’ idiot, and this sudden dawning of events had her reeling with regret. She felt Abby’s hand touch her arm, concerned her new friend was having some mental breakdown.
‘I met him!’ She mumbled, covering her face and trying to rub away the realisation. The urge to pour her hot chocolate over her head swiftly came over her.
‘Rob?’ She could almost hear the surprise in Abby’s tone.
‘Yes! He almost killed me with his car this morning, and then...’
‘Penelope?!?!?!’ His deep familiar voice moved her to jump right off the table. Snapping her head to meet his tall figure approaching her from the open door. Shocked into momentary silence by the sight of him towering at the side of the table right next to her, larger than life, so close she caught her breath. His sudden presence made her feel hot and bothered, flustered with no real reason except that maybe he was a little bit hot in a sculpted white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and some super snug on-the-ass jeans. Abby and his eyes glued to her face with a look of concern, strikingly similar! Yet not! One was extremely feminine, and one extremely masculine, in the disturbingly male way that made women like Rose lose all compos mentis.
‘Are you okay?’ Both of them, almost in unison.
Oh god, it was undeniable that they were related.
She slid her chair out quickly, mumbling some incoherent reason for getting going and avoiding looking him in the face as she tried to slide by. Caught between embarrassment, awkwardness, and just sheer cringe factor. Now she could fully see him without the red veil of rage she had to admit. He was romance hero worthy.
He caught her by the waist as she made for a lame exit attempt, stopping her and towering over her fragile frame like some kind of Neanderthal. He had no hesitation in touching her tiny figure, which only enraged her almost compulsively. His hot male hands encircled her body, burning through the thin fabric of her dress with almost searing heat, causing immediate anger and uneasiness at his touch. Unsure why she reacted this way, it only brought the fury back to the forefront. She shoved him off defiantly, hands meeting with the hard chest beneath his thin shirt.
‘I’m absolutely fine! ... No thanks to you and your dangerous driving. Where did you get your license? ... A lucky bag!!’ She surprised herself with her hostile reaction as she saw the storm reappear in his eyes. Clearing away the concern to be replaced with a matched annoyance, fury to challenge her own. Burning between them like a beast about to erupt, self-combusting fire.
‘So I see. Not lying there dying or passing out from a concussion, as I feared, but alive and spitting just like earlier. And I could ask you the same thing, Penelope. I’m sure driving eighty on the road to town was highly responsible.’ His angry glare sent prickles up her spine, that smug face only inches from hers. Her breathing hitched.
’Just trying to get away from you. In case once again your idiot driving caused me to crash!’ She thrust her hands on her hips in a show of bravado and pulled her small height up to meet him head-on.
’Getting away from me is becoming a habit today!’ Rob crossed his arms across that massive expanse of male muscle and leaned back on his heel. Somehow it only angered her more.
‘Yup. Absolutely!’ She spat.
‘Great! Don’t let me stop you.’ He stepped back, giving her some much-needed breathing space. Sparks sizzled in the air between them with no real sense of the anger fueling the scene. No real argument in the petty comments, just rage, heat, and sparks.
She had no idea why this guy made her so angry. Every nerve in her body reacted like hot, piercing needles and the urge to smash a mug on his head. His overly handsome face screamed for her to throw her drink in it; it seemed they both evoked that reaction in each other. He moved out of the way, gesturing her exit dramatically, almost bowing as he nodded and murmured some incoherent insult. To which she spat one back before marching off with a bag in hand, twisting the handle like it was his neck.
Oh, my god! He was a complete jerk! Arrogant sod with his sultry cold eyes piercing like daggers!!
Poor Abby watched this scene in absolute disbelief. Rob, her normally laid-back, gentle, and well-mannered brother. This seemingly nice girl, who had just spent a half hour acting like old friends. They had turned to instant fire and brimstone in each other’s presence. She had no clue what to say to defuse the situation but sat there agog. The tension between them sent off an electric atmosphere as she had never experienced; Abby raised a knowing eyebrow at Rob and a tiny smirk. Rob frowned a ‘What?’ at her in aggravation.
Rose stalked out dramatically in a flurry of ruffled petticoats, leaving half her drink and cake sitting and almost taking out seats with her swinging handbag. Abby just sat staring at Rob in bewilderment. He told her he would wait for her in the car, then stormed off in an equally bad mood, taking the opposite direction to Rose. Walking out the door only seconds behind the pink-clad woman and glaring at her walking away as he stalked to his car.