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“I win.”

“Bollocks! That wasn’t fair!” I protest, trying to ignore the lingering warmth from his touch.

“Aye, well, you never specified the rules.” Robbie scoops up his leather jacket—he must have flung it aside earlier when he swept me off my feet. “Now I get to ask you a question. Hmm . . . all right, how about this? What is it you want, Cat? And I don’t just mean from me. I mean from life.”

That’s a big question, I think. But I smirk and lean against the bike. “What do I want? Hmm . . . my own horse. That would be nice. And maybe a flat that doesn’t look like a construction site.”

My bravado falters when Robbie just stands there, looking at me like he sees right through all my nonsense.

“Okay, okay! But seriously, beyond that, I’m not entirely sure. I mean, it’s not like life comes with a manual. But . . .” I chew my lip, considering. “Maybe I want to stop being the girl who parties too much or flirts with every guy she meets just because she can.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been this candid with someone before, but there’s no judgement in Robbie’s eyes. He doesn’t flinch or frown or make me feel daft. So I continue. “I’ve done that for a while already, and it was fun. Don’t get me wrong, I had a blast down in Glasgow, but . . . maybe it’s time to move on.”

Robbie is quiet, his gaze thoughtful, then he nods. “Wise words, McIntyre.”

I untie my denim jacket from my waist and shrug it on, not quite ready to admit to myself how much his approval pleases me. “Anyway, for now, I want to go back to Bannock, and maybe then we can have a serious chat about clearing your name. Because it’s going to be all too easy for folk to accept you did it. We’ll have to put up a proper fight to make them see you’re innocent.”

Robbie sighs. “Aye, no kidding. Story of my life.” He hands me the spare helmet. “Let’s head back, then.”

I slide it on then swing onto the bike behind him. The engine growls awake beneath us. This time, when I wrap my arms around Robbie, it feels less like clinging on for dear life and more like holding tight to something I’m not sure I want to let go of.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ROBBIE

I kill the ignition outside the Otter’s Holt gift shop, and the rumble of the bike gives way to the cheerful bustle of Main Street. It’s busier than usual this afternoon—locals chatting, tourists wandering into shops, everyone soaking up the sunny weather. Heads, of course, turn our way. Cat McIntyre on Robbie MacDonald’s motorcycle? In Bannock that’s enough to set tongues wagging for weeks.

Cat swings her leg off the bike and pops off her helmet, freeing a tumble of flattened auburn hair, which she fluffs with her fingers. There’s a lightness to her movements that wasn’t there this morning, when she was in tears in her flat. The ride did its job, clearing both our heads. I’m still not sure what possessed me to tell her about my maw at the well, but somehow the words found their way out.

“Thanks for that.” She hands me back the helmet. “I needed it.”

I’m about to respond when Cat’s eyes focus on something behind me. She raises her hand in a wave.

“Ally! Emily!” she calls out.

Shite.

I turn to see Ally McIntyre walking towards us, pushing a pram with one hand and guiding a toddler with the other. His wife, Emily, walks alongside them, wearing a friendly smile, though there’s no mistaking the glint of curiosity beneath it. Still, her expression contrasts sharply with the thundercloud on her husband’s face.

“I’m going to head off,” I mutter to Cat, already kicking up the stand.

“Don’t be daft.” She grabs my arm, her fingers surprisingly strong for such a wee lass. “You have to meet Ciaran! He’s only a few days old, and he’s so cute.”

“I really don’t think⁠—”

“Come on!” She tugs at my arm impatiently. “It’ll be fine.”

But it won’t be fine. It’s never been fine between me and Alasdair McIntyre.

As a lad, I went out of my way to make his life difficult. Every chance I got, I’d goad him into a fight or stir up trouble just to see him lose his temper. I told myself it was about loyalty—my da ran the Glen Garve Resort, the McIntyres ran the Bannock Hotel. Natural enemies, right?

But now, at thirty-one, I’ve got enough self-awareness to recognise the truth. It wasn’t about business rivalry. It was about envy.

The McIntyres were everything my family wasn’t. A proper unit. A maw who actually gave a damn about her children. A da who wasn’t constantly stressed about work. Four siblings who squabbled but clearly loved each other.

Meanwhile, I had a mother who looked at me like I was a mistake she couldn’t undo, a father who buried himself in work, and a wee brother I was forever looking out for—making sure Johnny never saw the worst bits, even if that meant taking the brunt myself.

And now, surprising absolutely nobody, Ally’s gone and created his own perfect family. Beautiful wife. Two sons. A lovely home. The whole fucking package.