Page 4 of Highlander’s Heart

This show was Kate’s last hope.

“A community-funded restaurant.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her with curiosity. “Great story. But don’t you feel like they own you?”

Kate chuckled, her cheeks heating up. “Of course they own me. Hence burgers, ribs, and fries.”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “This is goin’ to be a fabulous show. When they find out what I have planned—it’s goin’ to be a Boston Tea Party in New Jersey.”

Kate hugged herself. She wanted to stand out, to be liked because she was different. Instead, she’d spent her whole life trying desperately to be liked because she fit in.

And look where it had gotten her.

She chuckled. “As long as Deli Luck turns out to be a new independent country afterward…”

He tilted his head back and laughed. When he looked at her again, his eyes became intense, taking her in as though he were peeling off her clothes. Kate chided herself for imagining a star like Logan would be interested in her.

“You’re a bonnie lass, aren’t you?” he mumbled and took a step towards her.

Kate tensed, physically making herself stay in place and not back away from him. She opened her mouth to make a joke out of it when his phone rang.

“I need to take this, lass.” He lifted the phone to his ear and walked to the other side of the courtyard towards the big gate.

Kate exhaled, the tension in her muscles softening. She wasn’t used to being treated kindly. And he had no reason to be nice to her other than to make a great show.

She looked around. What a beautiful, mysterious place this was. She agreed with Logan—if those stones could talk, they’d tell many stories. What would cooking in a medieval kitchen be like? What dishes did they make in the past? What spices and kitchenware did they use? Her stomach growled with hunger. Thank goodness she always packed food with her—the aftereffect of her childhood.

Kate was a hoarder. Well, not literally. Mainly, she hoarded food in her stomach and fat on her thighs. She never knew if she really was hungry or if she just felt panicked to stock up while food was available. Something she’d done ever since she was little.

Kate opened her bag and fetched one of the BLTs she’d made for her and for Logan. It was made with fresh ciabatta bread, crispy bacon she’d picked up at the local market yesterday, cherry tomatoes, and a touch of the truffle mayonnaise she’d bought in an artisan food shop in Edinburgh. Instead of simple lettuce, she used romaine salad. She settled on a rock baking in the sun, near a tower with a railing around the entrance. Turning her face to the sun, she closed her eyes and imagined sitting here many years ago when the castle wasn’t ruined yet, back when it swarmed with people.

What sounds would there be? Would it smell like grilled meat? Like mud? Like horses?

“The wee bread ye have, lass, it looks delicious,” a female voice said next to her.

Kate opened her eyes. A pretty young woman in a long dark-green cape with a hood stood by her side. Her hair was red and shone in the sun. She stared at Kate’s sandwich as though it were the food of the gods.

“Uhm,” Kate said. “Do you want some?”

Kate cooked food for a living, but she didn’t remember anyone staring like that at what she prepared.

“Oh, may I?” the woman said. “Ye dinna mind?”

She had a much stronger Scottish accent than Logan, stronger than anyone Kate had ever met, in fact. Her voice sounded beautiful, melodic, almost like a song.

Kate held the sandwich out to her. “Help yourself. You aren’t allergic to truffles, are you?”

The woman took the sandwich with both hands, a smile full of wonder on her lips. “What are truffles?”

“It’s a delicious mushroom, well, a fungus…”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m nae allergic.”

“There’s also mayonnaise, so eggs and—”

But the woman had already bitten into the sandwich and was chewing. She rolled her eyes in ecstasy and was producing sounds that could only be associated with very good sex.

“Oh, sky and stars,” she mumbled through a full mouth, “and kelpies unhinged, ’tis the best food I’ve ever had!”

Kate studied her, amazed. She had to give it to the woman, Kate rarely saw people so openly enjoying their food. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her a compliment like that. Was it because she was bored cooking the same stuff over and over? Or because she was actually a bad cook?