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I’m tired, it was a long journey up, and it’s only been two days since the most humiliating episode of my life. I’m at the end of my tether, and this man is pushing my buttons. It doesn’t help that I catch a hint of a smile on his lips. Infuriating!

He makes it to the top floor without any further collisions then deposits my luggage outside room six. With a nod and no further words, he leaves, clumping back down the stairs.

I unlock the door and wheel my cases inside. Turning on the light, I take in the room where I’m to spend the next month, and my heart sinks. Small, sad, and unloved, it’s a throwback to two decades ago, and not in a timeless way—in a “desperately in need of redecoration” way.

I shouldn’t have expected anything better, based on my first impressions, but even so, tears prick at my eyes. This is what I’ve travelled all day for? This is where I’m to heal mentally and emotionally after my husband-to-be rejected me on the day we were to be married?

I sink down onto the bed and bury my face in my hands.

CHAPTER THREE

ALLY

I’m back down at reception, finishing up for the night, bristling after the encounter with that woman.

“Why do you have a face like a slapped arse?”

I look up to see Lewis, the elder of my two younger brothers.

“I’ve just checked in our month-long guest.”

“Ah.”

He knows who I’m talking about.

For many tourists, Bannock is somewhere you stop off for an afternoon as part of a tour of the Highlands. You admire the scenery, maybe grab some food, and then you continue on your way.

Some folk stay overnight, of course, but usually at the nearby Glen Garve Resort, complete with high-end restaurant, swimming pool, gym, and golf course. Getting rooms filled here at the Bannock Hotel—a small eight-bedroom family-owned establishment—is a perpetual struggle.

Having someone stay a month? It’s unheard of. I love Bannock with all my heart, but even I don’t think there’s enough here to entertain a visitor for that long.

The booking was arranged via email, and I’ve got to admit, I pictured an older woman, a widow perhaps, or maybe a divorcee. Someone seeking a break from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, here to eat cakes from Morag’s Bakery, enjoy drinks in the Pheasant, and take leisurely walks through the forest, up the hills, along by the river, around the loch.

I hadn’t expected a woman like her.

Lewis leans against the reception desk. “What’s she like?”

“Rude. Stuck-up. Full of herself. Why she’s here, I don’t know, but it’s going to be a long month. This was a mistake.”

“Booking a room for a month isn’t a mistake. It’s bloody brilliant.”

“Aye, well, it was too good to be true.”

Lewis smirks. “Aye? What does she look like?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

He arches an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s rude, stuck-up, full of herself. Snooty and pass-remarkable too. You should have heard what she was saying about this place.”

“You’re avoiding the question. I asked you what she looks like.”

I sigh. “Well . . . she’s bonny, I suppose.”

Understatement of the year. About my age of twenty-nine, she had flawless creamy skin, short dark hair, a small, slim figure, and a cute arse that I briefly glimpsed. She also had these captivating blue-green eyes, accentuated by full black lashes, and rosy lips. You wouldn’t have guessed she’d been travelling all day based on her appearance. She was stunning.

“Aye, beautiful, but you should have seen what she was wearing. She had white jeans on. Not dressed for country living, that one. Maybe her designer suitcases contain more appropriate clothes, but I doubt it.”