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We finish up and pay, thanking Tom.

“Haste ye back!” Pepper squawks.

“Oh, we’ll be back soon.” I laugh. “I promise!”

We head outside, where it’s drizzling. I feel a little funny. I meant what I said—I want to move on with my life—but it was surreal bumping into someone who recognised me, not because Bannock is a small town and everyone knows everyone, but because she read an article about me in a magazine.

Across the way is a shop called the Otter’s Holt, its window filled with souvenirs, jewellery, and crafts, all handmade by local artisans, according to the sign. It’s another Bannock business I’ve yet to venture into, perhaps because I don’t know what my living arrangements will be when I return to London. Browsing home decorations hardly makes sense—but then again, what does that matter? Why shouldn’t I look at pretty things?

“We should go there!” I say, pointing across the street. Without even glancing left or right, I step out onto the road.

“Emily!” Grace shrieks.

Time slows down. I turn to see a motorcycle coming right at me. At the very last moment, the rider manoeuvres around me, just missing me. He screams obscenities at me as he passes.

“There’s no need for that!” David yells after him. “And watch where you’re going!”

I’m in shock, my heart racing.

Grace grabs me and drags me back onto the pavement. “Are you okay? Oh my God, you have to be more careful!” She hugs me tightly.

I feel numb. I can’t believe that just happened. After thirty years in London, where the roads are perpetually busy and road safety was drilled into me from childhood, how could I be so stupid as to walk out onto a street without looking? The magazine article must have affected me more than I realised.

At first, I don’t notice that the biker has pulled over and got off his motorcycle, but then his yells attract my attention.

“Did you tell me to watch where I’m going?” He marches towards us, tugging off his helmet, his cold blue eyes fixing on David.

I recognise the tall, dark-haired man. I met him once before, in the Pheasant, when he sat and talked to me while Ally was in the loo. This is Robbie MacDonald.

“And you”—Robbie rounds on me—“what were you thinking? My motorcycle is anything but quiet. How did you not hear it?”

“I . . . I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I’ve not been myself today.”

David steps in front of me protectively. “Leave her alone!”

“Aye? And what are you going to do about it?” Robbie, who must be six foot four or five, sizes him up.

Even though I’m shaking and tears are threatening, I say, “For your information, this is David, and he had a date with your brother last night. Maybe you should try being nice to him!”

Robbie’s expression suggests this was the last thing he expected me to say. For a full five seconds, he’s speechless, then he takes a step back from David.

“Where’s McIntyre today, then?” he asks.

“Ally is at the Glen Garve Resort.”

Yet another thing Robbie wasn’t expecting me to say.

“What the fuck is he doing there?”

“Meeting with your father to discuss a business idea.”

Robbie scoffs. “Like my da would go into business with McIntyre’s poor excuse of a hotel!”

“Well, what Ally’s proposing doesn’t have anything to do with the Bannock Hotel. And if your dad has his head screwed on right, he’s going to be very interested because Ally and Aidan have a great idea on their hands.”

Robbie fixes me with an icy, unwavering stare. It unsettles me, but I refuse to look away.

He breaks eye contact first, shaking his head. “Whatever. Just watch where you’re going in future, all right? I’ve seen a bad road accident before, and believe me, I’ve no wish to see another. Oh, and you?” Robbie points a threatening finger at David. “My brother is a nice guy, so if you mess him around, I’ll mess you up. Got it?”