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I shoot Lewis a quick look as if to say, See! I told you this was a mistake. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Thomas.”
“Emily.”
“Right, Emily. Luckily, we do have a few vacancies, so I can certainly show you to another room.”
“Oh, you’ve got vacancies? Why does that not surprise me?”
I offer her a smile without any warmth behind it. “I’ll check you into room two instead. I’ll go get your cases.”
Up in her room, I glance about, unable to spot anything obviously wrong. “Can I ask what the problem is? I checked this room myself, so I’m disappointed to hear it’s not up to scratch.”
She snorts. “Where do I begin? For a start, it’s in desperate need of redecoration. I was willing to overlook that until I discovered this.” She pats the bed. “There’s a dip in the mattress. I don’t want to leave this hotel with back problems, and believe me, you wouldn’t want that either. Is the mattress in the other room in better shape?”
“Aye, the mattress in room two is newer.”
I don’t tell her the decoration in that room is exactly the same. She’ll find that out for herself.
I take her cases down to room two and leave them outside the door, then I hand her her new key, wish her a good night, and make a quick escape.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMILY
This room is barely any better than the last one, but the mattress, at least, is flat. It’ll have to do. I don’t have the energy to argue anymore tonight, nor do I wish to spend another second with that infuriating Scotsman, with his bad attitude and his . . . his low, sexy voice . . . his big strong hands . . .
Argh! Enough, Emily!
To distract myself from thoughts about that irritating man and his irritatingly handsome features, I connect my phone to the Wi-Fi. I’m not sure what speeds they get out here, but I try video-calling Grace.
“Sorry for hanging up earlier. It’s not too late for you, is it?”
“Not at all!” Grace smiles, her image pixelating a little. “I’m still up.”
“I’m in my room now, so I’ll give you the grand tour. It’ll only take a few seconds.” I hold up my phone and turn it around in a circle.
“Oh . . . it’s quite tired-looking, isn’t it? That wallpaper can’t have been touched for decades. Why were you so determined to stay there?”
“Happy memories,” I say, pointing the phone back at myself. “Maybe I’d have been better off leaving them that way.”
“Was it a childhood holiday? With your dad?”
“Yeah. When I was young, Dad took me to Scotland every summer. He loved it up here—had the biggest smile the entire time. It was his detox from the London rat race. One year, we stayed right here, in the Bannock Hotel. It was the perfect holiday. Back then, this place was run by a family who couldn’t have been lovelier, but it’s under new management now: a grumpy Scotsman.”
Grace wiggles her eyebrows. “I like the sound of that.”
“No, trust me, you don’t. I’ve only had a couple of interactions with him so far, but already he’s driving me up the wall. Anyway, that holiday, it was the last year Dad and I visited the Highlands. As a teenager, I begged him to take me to the continent instead.
“Since Dad passed, I’ve always meant to come back here, and now here I am. Okay, my first impressions haven’t been great, but tomorrow I’ll explore the town by daylight. Maybe then I’ll rediscover something of what made that holiday so magical.”
“Here’s hoping. And at my end, I’m trying to sort out some time off work. Once I’ve done that, I’m coming up. I’ll be spending a few nights with you there, so scout out all the good stuff for me and try to remember why you liked the place.”
“Oh, Grace, you don’t have to do that!”
“Are you kidding? If I could drop everything right now, I’d already be there with you. But we both know what it’s like to be self-employed: you have to meet your commitments to keep your business going. I’m still working on getting someone to cover a few of my classes. I’ll head on up when I can.”
Grace teaches yoga. It’s how we met. I was a student in her first-ever class, and we hit it off. In many ways we’re opposites, but there’s a healthy overlap of interests and sense of humour—and we just get each other.
I’ve other friends too, of course—old schoolmates and folk I’ll have a casual drink with—but since I was jilted by Harry, I haven’t felt like reaching out to any of them.
