Page 38 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“If you want to summon the freaking devil!” I shrieked.

Max burst into laughter. “I think you’ve been up here a little too long.”

I brushed past him. “Dad taught me that. My grandmother was Scottish.”

“Well, then, he knows,” Max said.

“I mean it. They take this sort of thing really seriously. I mean, some do. My dad does. And now all this…”

Max leaned a hip against the counter. “If I start again and stir it clockwise, maybe?—”

“Too late.” I eyed the porridge, then my phone. “Yeah, I can’t eat that. Not today. Let’s make it again.”

“We could just microwave—” Max stopped when I glared at him.

I measured the water and the oats, added a pinch of salt, and took the spurtle and began to stir clockwise.How, how, how could he stir oats counter-clockwise in freaking Scotland?

I stirred and stirred, blinking back tears as I wondered what my family would think when they read the articles. Caitlin was getting married. Would the paparazzi follow us around? Would this ruin the wedding?

“At least we won’t have a hard time finding a photographer for the wedding.” I huffed out a laugh.

Max stepped up behind me, placing his hand on mine. I kept stirring. The porridge was getting creamy, just like the instructions said it would. It must be the different oats they use.

Finally, the tears broke free and began to drip down my face.

“We can fix this,” he said softly. “I signed an NDA, but you didn’t. I can’t say I’m not dating Cat, but you can say—well, whatever you know to be true.”

I served the porridge in two bowls. Max added cream and cinnamon and golden syrup. I ate mine plain.

“So what are we going to do about this?” I asked, laying my spoon down.

He checked his watch. “I’ve got a shoot in an hour.”

“That’s it?” I stared at him. “You’ve got a shoot?”

“What do you want me to do, Abby?” he asked, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know… maybe start with an apology?”

His shoulders dropped as he slumped back into his chair. “We were in a public place. In fact, we’re in a different country. Anyone that’s ever seen a clip about Harry and Meghan knows that?—”

“Oh, c’mon. Really? Are you a gossip column expert?” Maybe he was. I didn’t know him anymore, did I?

“Since signing this NDA, yes. I’ve asked around and looked into things.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Listen, Cat and I decided this relationship—real or fake—wasn’t going to work a long time ago, but she has a new release this fall…”

I pulled up Cat’s IMDB page on my phone. “Wait, she’s inthismovie!”

“Yeah, we filmed her stuff last week. She’s back home now.”

“How can you fake date her if she’s home now?” I shook my head. “Shouldn’t she be here with you, having dinners, doing photo ops with Highland cows?”

Max’s expression tightened. “Whose side are you on?”

“Mine,” I answered quickly. “Because if she were here with you, my frizzy hair wouldn’t be in the tabloids. And, Max, we’re both living in the same house! They don’t know that yet, do they? I’ll have to sneak in and out.”

“Look, we can figure all this out later. I need you on set today,” he said, checking his watch again.

“Then I’ll leave after you—in disguise,” I said, dryly. I looked at Max’s hat and midge netting hanging by the door.