Page 24 of Twilight Tides
“The B and B first?” Murray asked, hitting his turn signal to go up to the Victorian guest house.
I nodded. I’d texted Nee while on the ferry asking her to meet me there.
“Damn it,” Murray muttered as we approached the parking lot.
It was empty except for Nee’s bright Suzuki and Ramsay’s old Defender. “I didn’t know he would be here. I’d thought he was across the island working on that development.”
“Apparently not.” Murray turned off the engine. “Och, well, I’d have to face him sometime.” His eyes twinkled with wary amusement. “Will you protect me if he comes for me?”
I chuckled, relieved by his first show of lightheartedness since we’d left Oban. “I’ll do my best.”
A few seconds later, we stood outside the entrance to the guest house. Cammie was Nee’s interior designer and she’d found these beautiful, vintage stained glass doors that had been salvaged from a Victorian guest house in Inverness. Ramsay had helped restore them to their former glory. Now Murray pushed one of those doors open and it hit the old-fashioned bell above, the sound tinkling out as he gestured for me to go in first.
“Nee!” I called out as we stepped inside.
The floors were a black and white checkerboard tile reminiscent of the Victorian era and brought that charm back to the large house with a timeless modernity. Nee had the tiler inlay a square of custom tiling that spelled out LETH SHOLAS GUEST HOUSE with a little thistle beneath. We were flanked on either side by two rooms. To the left was a library and to the right was a large sitting room. Ahead of us on the right was a grand staircase, refinished with a stylish carpet runner and brass rod detailing. By the staircase was a cute reception desk, and a doorway beyond it that led to a very small office. To the left of the desk was the hallway to the back of the house—kitchen and dining room.
“Spoon?” Nee’s voice echoed down that hallway. “We’re in the kitchen!”
I glanced up at Murray who no longer smiled. In fact, he wore a deep frown of concern that pulled harshly at his brows.
Looking down at his hand, I tentatively reached for it. But when my fingers brushed the back of his palm, he jolted. I yanked my hand back, dejection slumping my shoulders. It would be interesting living with a guy who couldn’t even stand my touch. “I just … united front and all. Never mind.”
I’d barely taken a step forward when I felt his warm, calloused hand wrap tightly around mine. It was my turn to jerk with surprise.
“I’m a little on edge,” he explained, expression apologetic. “I didn’t mean to …” Murray squeezed my hand in reassurance. “United front.”
Relieved, I offered him a shaky smile. “Let’s do this.”
“I’ve only ever been in here once,” Murray murmured as we walked down the hallway. I was trying to concentrate on his words and not on my hyperawareness of him. It was difficult because my thoughts kept blaring like a fifth grader with a crush,I’m holding Murray Shaw’s hand, I’m holding Murray Shaw’s hand!“I forgot what a beautiful job they all did pulling this together.”
Focus, London, I internally scolded myself.
By “all,” I knew Murray meant Nee, Ramsay, Quinn, and Cammie. “Yeah, it’s a nice place to work.”
“And the kitchen isyourdomain?”
“It is.”
“There’s so much we don’t know about each other,” Murray muttered just before we entered the kitchen.
“Regretting it already?” I was trying for a teasing tone, but even I heard the bitterness that seeped out.
Call it years of being rejected by the people who were supposed to love me. It didn’t take a psychologist to tell me I had serious self-esteem and abandonment issues. Usually I was very good at masking them.
In answer, Murray tightened his grip on my hand and grunted out a defensivenoas we stepped into the kitchen.
Nee and Ramsay were sitting at the island, their knees touching as they sat turned toward each other, sipping coffee out of matching mugs.
“You shouldn’t be drinking coffee, Nee!” I blurted without thought.
Nee’s eyes flared ever so slightly in warning. “It’s peppermint tea.”
“Oh.” I grimaced sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“You’re pregnant?” Murray asked.
Ramsay cut me a dark look that made me grimace even harder.
