Page 45 of Scotch & Dreams

“Mmhm." Violet didn't want to comment on his size. "I’m sure he will.” Violet gave Effie a reassuring smile and turned to head toward the stables. "See you later. Thanks for the muffins!”

Our Logan, Violet thought to herself with a chuckle as she entered the small door on the stables and headed straight for Beethoven’s stall. She had to admit, all this talk about their new boss left her intrigued. Neighs and grunts greeted her. Hangover or not, this place was still heaven on earth. Beethoven snorted his approval upon eyeing Violet. She’d grown fond of all the horses, but Beethoven held an extra special place in her heart.

“Hey, boy,” she said, patting his shiny, ebony neck. “Shall we have a nice brush down before our ride? I’ll be right back, handsome.” She had the best side hustle in the world. She was responsible for grooming and exercising the horses. There were around fifty horses at the stable, but she was responsible for the care of half of them at the moment. She always started and ended her shift with Beethoven, though.

She walked down to the tack room. Opening the door, she caught sight of someone else in there, and her heart jumped into her throat. She recognized him immediately, even though the view was from behind. Broad shoulders, modern pompadour hair, and a damn fine ass in his dark denim. She was about to sneak back out when he looked her way. Those cerulean blue eyes she’d tried to forget locked on hers. And she instantly remembered how those eyes had been her lifeline only two months ago.

“Violet?” He appeared as surprised as she was.

God, he looked good, painfully good. Brown, perfectly worn leather boots under his dark denim, navy button-up shirt. Even at a stable, the man looked like he stepped right out of a men's magazine, and here she was again, looking casual AF—and not the cute kind of casual—damn it. She was pretty sure there was a stain on her gray t-shirt, and as Effie pointed out, she basically looked like shit. God. Why, why couldn't she have run into him at a coffee shop when she's working on her styling business or preparing to meet a client, and at least wearing clean clothes? She stared at him, still shocked to see him.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted.

That sexy crooked smile spread across his face, and her traitorous heart almost burst. God, how could she have forgotten the effect of that smile? She unconsciously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“At the moment, I’m looking at the tack gear.”

“Yes, I can see that. I mean, why are you here at Highland Haven? I hope you’re not thinking of purchasing one of our horses.” It was the first explanation she could think of.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” he challenged her, pulling down one of the leather bridles from the wall as if he owned the place. Who did he think he was?

“They are not for sale,” she said, wondering where the heck this Logan dude was now.

"Hmm, I see. And ye ken this for a fact?" He took a step toward her, closing some distance between them.

It ticked her off that a little, excited tingle rippled down her spine.

"I'm quite certain these horses were chosen specifically for this sanctuary. I highly doubt the owner would have any interest in selling them," she said, trying to sound convincing. Lachlan's gaze unnerved her.

“Ye dinnae sound too happy to see me.” His voice lowered.

Her stomach did a little flip-flop. “What? I-I,” she stuttered. Why should she be happy to see him? “I suppose I’m surprised to see you,” she said honestly.

Although, it was more than that. She was pissed at him. Ticked that he’d literally ghosted her. He knew she had no friends here. Even if he didn't want to date her, a friendly text to say hi or see how she was would have been nice. She'd be wise not to get carried away by the man's charm, but frick, it was easier said than done as he towered before her all manly and good-looking.

The silence stretched between them, and she shifted her weight, crossing her arms over her chest. She noticed his thumb run over the leather strap of the bridle in his hands. Big, slightly tanned hands with veins corded over the backs and strong knuckles. What would it feel like to have those hands on her, feeling down her waist or holding her face before he kissed her with that dang crooked smile on his lips? She swallowed hard, horrified at her own treasonous thoughts.

“They said I still had to meet Violet." His voice was husky and deep, and he continued to rub that leather gently with his thumb, driving her to distraction. "Violet, the wonderful lass who’s helped everyone here, the lass who cares about this place as though it was her very own.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Violet. I wondered if it would be ye.”

And that was when the penny dropped. “You’rethe boss."Plot twist. Not Logan, but Lachlan.Ugh. So many thoughts ran through her mind all at once, including thathe was her boss.

He laughed humbly. “Aye, I suppose.”

Violet had no words. Would he still want her to work here? Didshestill want to work here?

“Thank ye for ensuring that no one dare try to buy my horses. Our horses,” he corrected.

His correction took her aback.Our horses. She knew he meant the sanctuary’s horses, but all the same, the wordourhad a strange warming effect on her.

His skin tingled just being in her presence, like she wielded some kind of magic over him. The wary expression she wore and the way her arms were crossed over her chest bothered him. She was apprehensive with him. Who could blame her? After the day he'd dropped her at her Airbnb and the night he'd last spoken to Anna, when he'd discovered Violet’s note was gone, he realized that perhaps it was for the best. After ending things with Anna, it felt like he needed time.

And he’d also felt that flame in him again, inspiring him to finally bring Highland Haven to fruition. He didn't want to ponder what it was he'd experienced with Violet. That raw guttural desire that damn-near overwhelmed him, especially not on the heels of breaking up with Anna. He wanted to turn the page on the past and focus on the future. But seeing her now, that fated thrum for her in his veins. He’d be willing to bet money that she was his future.

Glancing over her shoulder at the door, she looked ready to bolt. Shite. “How’ve ye been?” he said, hoping she’d stay and talk with him.

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