Page 41 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander

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“It’s a hundred pounds a week,” he adds. “Paid in advance.”

A hundred pounds to slowly roast alive while listening to Metallica at four in the morning.

I barely manage to suppress a bitter grimace.

“I’ll let you know.”

I endup sitting in my car parked outside the bakery, forehead pressed against the steering wheel.

Even the smell of the fresh scones I just bought fails to cheer me up.

No matter how I turn the problem around in my head, I know there’s only one option left.

No.

Anything but that.

I let out a low groan, but my phone is already in my hand, my fingers hovering over the number I swore I’d only use in case of extreme emergency.

I bite the inside of my cheek before pressing the call button.

“Hello?”

Maggie’s voice is cheerful.

“Grandma, it’s Mary.”

“Hello, sweetheart! How are you?”

There aren’t thirty-six ways to do this, so I might as well do it quickly and properly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“I need help.”

Silence.

Then:

“Tell me everything.”

I explain the situation: the water damage, the upcoming repairs, the impossibility of finding a place to stay in the village.

“Oh, you poor thing!” she exclaims. “I have the perfect solution!”

“You do?”

“Absolutely! Come stay at the castle. We have plenty of room.”

I stare at the bakery storefront through the windshield while considering my options.

But honestly, between the bakery from hell and McGregor Castle, the choice is obvious.

“I’ll come by late this afternoon.”

“Wonderful! I’ll let Jamison know.”

My car is loadedwith suitcases and my morale is at rock bottom when I pull up in front of the castle.

Jamison greets me with his usual professionalism.

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