Page 18 of The Highland Game

SassyLassie

Clearly. But as for what happens in season two, episode seven . . . if you want to know, you’ll just have to watch it for yourself.

LochNLoad

Tease! But all right, I will accept that as an answer. Now spill—what was it you were going to tell me?

SassyLassie

Okay, but . . . shit, I don’t quite know how to say this. And it’s especially awkward after what we’ve just been talking about. Hmm . . . actually, maybe I should just tell you another time?

LochNLoad

Nope! You said we need to talk about something so let’s talk about it. Don’t go getting embarrassed. You and I can tell each other anything, can’t we?

SassyLassie

*Takes a deep breath* I’m honestly not sure how you’re going to react. It’s . . . kind of a big deal. But all right, here goes . . .

Just as I’m about to find out what Sass’s big revelation is, Lewis strolls into the snug, followed by Emily. The wife of my eldest brother, Ally, Emily is a petite brunette who’s currently five months pregnant with nephew number two. She helps Lewis with the running of the hotel.

“Er, guys, do you mind?” I joke, gesturing around the empty snug. “I’m trying to work here.”

Lewis and Emily exchange a look that screams, We are not amused.

“We need to talk,” Lewis says.

Bloody hell, what is it with people needing to talk to me today? Before SassyLassie can hit me with whatever life-changing bombshell she’s typing, I fire off BRB then snap my laptop shut.

“I’m all ears.” I take a sip of my beer then gesture to the barstools opposite me. “Go on then, take a seat. What’s this about?”

Lewis eyes my pint glass. “You’re drinking on the job again? And this early?”

“I need to serve someone, don’t I? Else I’d go mad. And I had been thinking of pouring myself a whisky, but I reckoned I’d knock that back, so instead I’m slowly sipping a beer. This is me being responsible.”

Just as Lewis is about to unleash what I’m sure would be a spectacular bollocking, Bruce lets out a loud yawn and stretches. Distracted, Lewis glances down at the dog, who trots over to him with his tail wagging like a furry metronome.

Lewis just can’t help himself. He drops to one knee and fusses over his pet, and Bruce rolls onto his back, paws in the air, begging for a belly rub. Lewis happily obliges, of course. “Who’s a good boy?” His voice jumps an entire octave—proof his balls have temporarily vacated the premises. “You are! Yes, you are!”

Emily catches my eye and we share a smile. The way Lewis dotes on Iona is sickening. The way he dotes on Bruce? Barely any better.

When Lewis eventually straightens, the fire has gone out of his eyes—at least for now. “All right, where were we? Oh aye, we were about to sit down.” He eyes Emily’s bump. “Is the bar all right, or would you rather a table?”

“The bar is fine,” Emily insists. They settle onto the stools.

“All right, so . . . the snug,” Lewis says.

I lift my beer and take a slow sip, partly to see if I can get under Lewis’s skin again, but he doesn’t take the bait. “What about it?” I ask.

Lewis rubs the back of his neck. “Well . . .” With his other hand, he taps a finger on the bar. “Er . . .”

Emily steps in. “Lewis and I have been looking at the profitability of different aspects of the business. And there’s one part that isn’t doing as well as we’d like.”

I know the answer but I ask the question anyway: “And that is . . . ?”

Emily presses her lips together, while Lewis shifts on his stool. The silence stretches just long enough to make its point.

“But everyone loves the snug!” I protest, even though the empty chairs and tables don’t exactly support my case. “You’re not thinking of closing it, are you?”