Here With Me (Adair Family 1)

“That is very cool,” I replied sincerely. “Imagine knowing your family has been here as long as medieval times. I don’t know anything about my family before the twentieth century.”

“You should look into it. It’s fascinating stuff learning where you come from and who you’re related to.”

The shop door opened, and Morag peered past me. She wrinkled her nose as if displeased by the newcomer. At the sound of heavy footsteps walking toward us, I glanced over my shoulder. A man almost as big as Mac, wearing a threadbare cable-knit sweater, worn jeans, and mud-splattered boots, came to a stop at my side. He smelled of … well … animal. In all its forms.

I took in the grizzly, gray beard and deep wrinkles around his dark eyes. A wool hat covered his hair, but I estimated he was much older than Mac.

And a farmer, if the smell was anything to go by.

“Usual, Morag,” he demanded in a gruff, gravelly voice.

Morag gave him a pained smile. “The corned beef didn’t come in with my delivery, Collum. Is there anything else you’d like?” She gestured to the sandwich counter.

Collum glared at her in obvious annoyance and then down at the counter. “The ham instead.”

“With all the usual, though?”

He grunted.

Morag seemed to take that as a yes and then gave me an apologetic look. “Are you in a hurry, dear? It’s just Mr. McCulloch is our local farmer, and I usually have his sandwich ready so he can just collect it and go.”

“I can wait.”

She set aside the tuna-mayo mix and worked on the farmer’s sandwich.

There was a moment of awkward silence as we watched Morag.

Until the left side of my face tingled.

The farmer was staring at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He stared impassively down at me and then looked at Morag. “Another one?”

She frowned and then glanced at me, her face clearing. “Oh, I don’t believe so. Just a tourist.”

“Robyn,” I offered. “My name is Robyn.” Staring up at McCulloch, I asked bluntly, “What do you mean by ‘another one’?”

Our eyes met. “So-called actor from that godforsaken club.”

Realizing he meant one of the Ardnoch members, I shook my head. “No, I’m not one of them. I’m a cop.” Or I was a cop. I needed to stop introducing myself as such. Habit.

The farmer studied me closely. “Aye, you don’t look like you stick poison in your face.”

I let out a confused snort. “What?”

He sighed, as though aggravated our conversation had gone on this long. “Sarah, my granddaughter, she says they all stick poison in their faces to smooth their wrinkles. In their lips to make them fuller.” He eyed me again. “Not that you need that.”

“No. I don’t need Botox in my lips.”

His brows drew together.

“That’s what you call the toxin. Or at least the treatment. Botox.”

“Fascinating.”

I couldn’t help a bark of laughter at his dry sarcasm.

“Really, Collum,” Morag tutted. “You could try to be a little more welcoming to our tourists.”

“Why?”

She flushed. “It’s … well, it’s the decent thing. The friendly thing.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “You’re all only nice to them because of the money. Well”—he cut me a sardonic look—“not Morag here. She actually likes people.”

His disbelieving tone made me laugh harder, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Oh, you.” Morag tutted again, but a smile teased her lips as she wrapped up his sandwich. McCulloch gave her money, and Morag handed over his lunch. “Tell Sarah I was asking for her.”

He grunted again and turned to leave.

“It was nice to meet you,” I said.

McCulloch shot me a look of disbelief before glancing back at Morag. He gave a slight shake of his head but tipped his sandwich at me in acknowledgement before striding out.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Morag said, sounding surprised, “I think he thought it was nice meeting you too.”

I grinned. “He’s not the friendly sort, huh?”

“No. You got more conversation out of him than I have in the last ten years,” she cracked.

“I liked him.”

“You like cantankerous, do you?”

“I like honest.”

Morag smiled and returned to my sandwich. When it was done, she handed it over after accepting payment and said, “Have a nice day at the beach.”

I left Morag’s and walked east to the parking lot on the square across from the Gloaming. I’d parked there, and I planned on driving a few minutes east to Ardnoch’s beautiful, golden sands. It wasn’t a particularly sunny day. There was a chill in the late spring air, but the belly of the clouds weren’t dark enough to suggest coming rain.

Strolling down the quiet street toward the square, I noted a Range Rover drive past and watched it pull into the parking lot near my rental. As I approached my car, the doors of the Rover opened, and a couple rounded the trunk to lace their hands together. Surprise moved through me, and I’ll admit a little thrill.