Page 66 of Scotch & Dreams

“The Gala went well," she began.

He nodded. “Yes, very well. I haven’t got the final numbers for the silent auction, but I think we raised a lot of funds. Minus the check from Anna, I was sure to give that back to her.” Lachlan poured the boiling water into Orlagh's favourite blue argyle mug, stirring in a blob of honey and a splash of milk. He topped up his black coffee and brought the two mugs to the table.

“Wait,” Orlagh stopped Lachlan just as he was about to sit. “Do ye huv any bickies?” She looked like a blue-eyed cherub about to fall happily from grace.

He smiled knowingly. “Uh, yes, how could I forget?” he said, walking over to the cupboard.

“Any with chocolate should do," she instructed.

“Right,” he replied flatly.

His sister’s sweet tooth was rather infamous. Lachlan didn’t often eat biscuits and sweets, but he always kept some on hand for when his sister popped ’round. He grabbed a side plate and filled it with plain oat biscuits, a chocolate covered version, and also a cream sandwich style and brought it to the table.

“Ooh, lovely jubbly,” Orlagh said, reaching for a cream sandwich one and dipping it into her tea.

“Out with it, Rolo.”

She looked at him under her lashes for a moment, munching her biscuit and reaching for another. “Oh, all right.”

Lachlan clearly knew her all too well.

“Well, firstly, I'm proud of you for the way you handled that dreadful woman. I'm so glad you came to your senses and dumped her arse.”

Lachlan gave her a warning look from under his brow.

"All right, all right. Never mind all that. But I am glad ye put her in her place.”

"Aye, right. What else? I can see there is something else going on in that head of yours.”

"I had a delightful little chat with Violet last night.” She grinned through chomps of biscuit.

Lachlan sat up a little straighter. “Did ye?” he said, trying to stay cool even though the very mention of her name had his pulse galloping like a horse when a gate gets left open.

“I brought ye this. Thought maybe ye would want to give it to her.” Orlagh handed him a large, brown paper shopping bag. He peered inside and pulled up a folded soft wool tartan. He looked at his sister, confused.

“Why would I want to give Violet our family tartan exactly?”

Orlagh munched on another biscuit. “Because it was her favourite item at the auction last night. She even bid on it.”

“Really?” Lachlan was surprised, but he also felt oddly gratified that Violet liked their clan tartan and wanted the blanket for her home.

“Seriously, Lachlan, she loved it, and it would be a romantic gesture for you to give it to her.” She spelled it out for him.

“And why exactly do ye think I need help in the romance department?”

“Oh my God, Lachlan, just give it to her—she’ll like it.” Orlagh huffed. “Please tell me ye at least talked to her last night?”

What? Aye, aye, of course, I did. Why?”

“Brother, ye huv it bad. Did ye ask her out?”

Lachlan took a sip of his coffee, thinking back to being in the cask room with Violet. “No' exactly.”

“Lachlan, ye need to get on with it already. Lassies like Violet dinnae come around every day, ye ken. Please, please, dinnae get stuck in the friend zone with this one.”

Lachlan almost spat out his coffee. There was no way in hell that was happening. “What are ye implying?” He arched his brow.

Orlagh rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, Lachlan.” She sighed, shaking her head.

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