Page 24

Mairead led the charge to the bar, waving enthusiastically at the barman—who was unmistakably her dad, Murdo. She was practically his double, just with longer hair, better earrings, and a slightly wobblier stance.

“Thish is Jenn, an tha’s Lizhie, an—” she slurred, trying to introduce the whole gang.

“Mairead,” Murdo said with a laugh, “just get the order in, will you? Look at the state of this bar!”

“Jenn! Jenn! Come here! Lizzie, you too!”

Màiri was waving frantically from the other side of the bar, standing beside a very tall, very classically good-looking man.

“Oh wow. Who’s the hottie, eh?” Lizzie whispered, leaning in close. She must’ve been drunk—she wasn’t usually so forthcoming.

“I’m sure we’ll find out,” Jenn said as they made their way over.

He was very attractive—objectively so. Broad-shouldered, with brown hair that never quite behaved and green eyes that missed nothing. There was something aristocratic about him—all chiselled cheekbones and a commanding presence, making the room bend around him without effort. Not as handsome as Ruairidh, in Jenn’s opinion, but she suspected many would disagree. Including Lizzie, whose appreciative glance wasn’t exactly subtle, despite the boyfriend.

He had a magnetism that was hard to look away from—just a shade intimidating, like he knew exactly who he was and expected the rest of the world to fall in line. Honestly, he was one cravat short of a Bridgerton. Nice to look at, sure, but she preferred her men less likely to host a Regency ball and more likely to appreciate chocolate cake.

“Ladies, say hello to Lord Ally. Ally, meet Jenn and Lizzie,” Màiri announced with a flourish. “You’d better behave around his Lordship here, or he’ll kick you off his island!”

Lord? Ha. Nailed it.

“Ist! Enough of the ‘Lording,’” Ally said, ruffling Màiri’s hair. “The only person I’d boot off is you.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he added, offering his hand. “What have you two done to deserve Màiri’s company tonight?”

Instead of a plain handshake, Ally clasped Jenn’s hand warmly, leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek, his other hand resting briefly on her arm in a gentlemanly anchor before he let go. Polished, smooth, practised.

When he reached Lizzie, the same greeting stretched just a beat too long—his hand lingering, the kiss brushing a little closer, the touch at her arm warmer than polite—enough to catch Jenn’s attention.

“You’re worse than my brothers sometimes.” Màiri huffed. “We actually do yoga together—well, Jenn teaches me and Lizzie.”

“Nice one,” Ally said, glancing between them. “Been on the island long? I don’t remember yoga being a thing last time I was home.”

“Just a couple of months,” Jenn replied.

“And how’s island life treating you?”

“Pretty well so far, thanks!”

“Wait—hang on. You’re the cake girl at the airport café, aren’t you?”

“Haha, yes, I suppose I am.”

“Jenn’s cakes are amazing!” Lizzie chimed in, practically drooling. Ally gave her a curious look.

“Hmm, yes,” agreed Màiri, eyes wide with mock reverence.

“I’ll need to get myself to the airport pronto, then,” Ally said with an easy grin. “Actually—my mum mentioned you. You’re Annag MacInnes’ granddaughter, right? From Hellisay Village?”

“That’s right,” Jenn replied, a little startled.

“You’re as bad as the old Puffins, Ally!” Màiri laughed, referencing the chain-smoking pensioners who ruled the community café gossip circuit.

“It comes with the territory,” he said with a shrug. “Mum was saying you’ve caused a stir at the café—and Ruairidh mentioned you too—”

Jenn’s pulse did a stupid little kick. Great. Just great.

“Ohhhh, did he now?” Màiri sing-songed, eyes gleaming like she’d just been handed premium gossip.