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What girl wouldn’t be? The man is a god.
And I always get a nice shoulder rub after.
He stops at the open French doors, pausing till he catches my eye. “Seriously, Fiona. Thank you for the gift. I’ll cherish it.”
Aww, bless. The man is going soft on me. I love it.
He’s becoming…husband material.
I clean up, staff hovering over me, eager to take over my duties. Looking at the time today, I’ll let them finish up. I untie my apron, handing it to the landscaper’s assistant. Trying to remember everyone’s names has been a task. “Thank you, Duncan.”
“Welcome, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Fiona.”
“Aye, ma’am.” He gives a nod worthy of a soldier.
His young face is so serious, so eager to please Callum and anyone at Norse Garden.
“Everything can go back in the shed,” I direct him. “And Duncan, there’s lemon cake in the kitchen. Nan made it this morning. I know it’s your favorite. Get to it before it’s gone.”
I leave, meandering through the open French doors, thinking of what I’ll wear tonight.
It needs to be something Callum’s not seen yet.
Freya and I hit the shops yesterday, leaving Buchanan Street with our arms loaded with bags. I still have to get used to him spending money on me, but it does get easier, haha.
I pass Freya in the hall as I go. Arms filled with swatches, she’s clicking along the hall in a black dress, black stilettos, black reading glasses perched on her head, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail that she manages to make look incredibly sexy.
“Hiya, Freya!” I ask, “Should I wear the red or gold dress tonight?”
“Och! That’s right. It’s Thursday. Date night. Playhouse this week, right?” She taps her pen against the swatch book.
“Aye. My first taste of sushi at a wee hole in the wall off Haghill?—”
“By the college?” she asks.
“Aye.”
“Try something cooked first,” she directs. “Maybe a shrimp tempura roll? Ease into the sashimi.”
“Will do.” I have no idea what she means by sashimi. I put my hands on my hips. “So. Red or gold?”
“Hmm…” Freya eyes me, bringing the top of the pen to the corner of her mouth. “Red.”
“Red it is.”
We go to move our separate ways, but she pulls me back. “Fiona?” she asks. “Have you seen my glasses? I can’t find them anywhere!”
“On the top of your head,” I laugh.
“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.” She pulls her glasses down, looking at the wording on the swatch. “Much better. Now, Charcoal Delight no longer reads as Chocolate Delight. No wonder I was so confused.”
Her attention to detail is typically second to none. “You okay?”
“I’m meeting with Fredrick about which whisky to serve for All Hallows’ Eve, and he wanted my opinion on leather for his barstools. I’m feeling a wee bit flustered. The man is gorgeous!”
“Aye,” I say, laughing. “I’ve heard.” She’s not alone in her thinking. Carol Ann’s eyes were on the man as well. I’m sure he’s as handsome as they say, but I only have eyes for one man. “Good luck with Fredrick!”
