Page 39 of The Highland Bad Boy

Cat’s grip tightens on my arm, her fingers digging in like she thinks I’ll make a run for it—well, more like a ride for it—if she lets go. “Robbie, get off the bike. And take your helmet off. You’ll give wee Ru nightmares otherwise.”

“Honestly, Cat, I’m going to⁠—”

“You owe me.”

I pause and raise an eyebrow. “Owe you?”

“For last night,” she murmurs with a sly grin. “Consider this payback.”

Jesus. The cheeky wee minx! Wielding last night against me like some sort of weapon. Mind you, it was a fantastic moment of relief in what’s been a shite week or so. If it makes her happy, maybe I can stomach Ally’s glares for a minute or two.

With a sigh, I climb off the bike and pull off my helmet, then reluctantly I let Cat drag me towards Ally and his clan.

His eyes flick from his sister to me, his jaw visibly tightening. “Cat,” he says, his voice carefully controlled. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve just been for a ride on Robbie’s motorcycle,” she says cheerfully, either oblivious to or, more likely, deliberately ignoring the tension. “It was amazing!”

Ally just grunts, like he doesn’t trust himself to say what he’s really thinking. But I notice his knuckles whitening on the pram handle.

“Nice to see you, Robbie,” Emily interjects smoothly.

I nod at her, grateful for the rescue.

“I don’t think you’ve met our boys yet.” Emily gestures to the toddler, who’s regarding me with open curiosity. “This is Ru.”

“Hello, wee man,” I say awkwardly. I’ve never been particularly good with children.

Cat crouches down to Ru’s level. “Hiya, pal!” She opens her arms, and the boy eagerly toddles into them for a hug.

“And this,” Emily continues, reaching into the pram, “is Ciaran.”

She lifts out a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. Ciaran’s face is scrunched and red, like he’s still annoyed at having been evicted from his comfortable home inside Emily.

Cat wastes no time before cooing and fussing over him. “Isn’t he gorgeous, Robbie? Look at his tiny wee fingers!”

Emily offers her a hold, and Cat accepts without hesitation, rocking the wee guy and murmuring nonsense words to him. After a bit, she looks up at me, a sparkle in her eye. “Here, Robbie, you should have a go too.”

“What? No, I—” But it’s too late. Cat deposits the infant into my arms.

Bloody hell, what am I supposed to do with a baby? I’ve never held one before in my life. He feels impossibly small and fragile against my chest. I adjust my grip awkwardly, one hand cradling his head while the other supports his tiny body.

I glance at Emily, who gives me a reassuring nod. “You’re holding him just fine. No need to look like you’re defusing a bomb.”

“Aww,” Cat says with a grin that’s far too wide to be wholly innocent. “You look good with a baby, Robbie.”

Ally makes a strangled sound that might be a suppressed growl. His face is a picture of barely contained fury. It can’t be easy for him, seeing his newborn son in the arms of his oldest enemy.

“Cat,” he says through gritted teeth, “what exactly have you been up to with Robbie?”

There’s an accusation in his tone that makes my hackles rise, but I bite my tongue.

“Nothing!” Cat protests. “He’s been helping me with my flat, that’s all. Hasn’t laid a finger on me—at least not in the scandalous sense your face is implying.”

Technically, she’s not lying. I haven’t. She, on the other hand . . .

“Helping you with your flat?” Ally repeats sceptically. “The same Robbie MacDonald who was just fired from the Glen Garve Resort for stealing from guests?”

Ah, shit. It seems the word is out. Da could only keep it under wraps for so long.