Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Sure enough, Callan stood in the room that was thankfully empty of patrons. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stared expressionlessly at me.
“What are you doing here?” I smoothed a self-conscious hand down the front of my T-shirt.
Callan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Was eating dinner across the road and saw you unloading boxes.”
“Oh.”
That still didn’t answer my question.
“We need to talk, princess.”
I ignored the endearment that wasn’t really an endearment but an insult masquerading as one. “About?”
“When do you finish up here?”
“Now, actually.”
“Meet me back at our building?”
“Tonight?”
“Aye, now.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk about that favor you owe.” He turned and marched toward the exit. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
“Callan!” But he was already out the door.
What on earth was that all about?
“You owe Callan Keen a favor?”
I whirled around to find Gary staring in awe. It only clocked me then that he was wearing a Caledonia United shirt. Huffing, I threw my arms up. “Apparently so.”
CALLAN
Half an hour later, Beth was letting me into her flat. It was small compared to my place, but had a fairly generous open-plan living room and kitchen. A peek down a short narrow hall told me there was only a bedroom and a bathroom.
I’d expected to feel some kind of smug satisfaction again at the reminder I could afford a bigger place than Beth Carmichael, but I felt nothing other than curiosity. My attention lingered on a collection of photos she had on the wall. There were a ton of people in those photos, and I wondered if it was the big family she used to talk about so much. She had all these “aunts” and “uncles” and “cousins” who were good friends of her parents.
“So …” Beth walked past me, dumping her bag on a side table. “What do you want to talk about?”
She wore a T-shirt with illustrations of the Marvel comic characters arranged like an album cover with the words Marvel Eras Tour written under it. It was knotted at her waist, revealing a slither of smooth, olive skin. Her jeans were loose on her hips and around her legs but turned up at the ankles. On her feet, a pair of Converse. Even like this, in a T-shirt and jeans, Beth looked like a million dollars. She was a total princess no matter what she wore.
Her furniture did, too, and was surprisingly similar to what Ainsley had selected for my flat. She’d called it midcentury modern, whatever the fuck that meant.
I gestured to the couch that was almost identical to the one in my flat that Ainsley picked out.
Beth eyed me warily but nodded, waving a hand toward the piece of furniture. “Do you want a drink? Coffee, tea?”
“You got decaf coffee?”
“I do.”
“Thanks. Milk, no sugar.”
Beth nodded and strode over to the kitchen. My eyes might have lingered a few seconds on her arse before I dragged my gaze off her and crossed the room to sit. Her flat was on the same side as mine, so the floor-to-ceiling corner window overlooked New Town. It was still fairly light outside, despite it being close to eight o’clock.
Awkward silence filled the room, broken up only by the sound of Beth’s coffee maker. I hadn’t expected to feel nervous about asking her to arrange a meeting with her dad but suddenly, I felt all of seventeen again.
She brought the coffee over, her long ponytail swinging across her shoulder as she bent to place my cup on the table.
Beth settled opposite me, those piercing, pale blue eyes taking me back all those years ago when we’d sneak off to find somewhere to have a snog. I used to be in awe that she actually wanted me to kiss her.
Shoving the thoughts away, I clasped my hands in front of me and flattened my expression. “Here’s the thing—Baird and I own a company. We own and rent out a bunch of properties, but we’re looking to do something bigger. Blantyre Castle is up for sale, and we’ve made a good offer on it with the intention of renovating and turning it into a hotel and spa.”
“Blantyre Castle?” Beth frowned. “My dad’s company owns that castle.”
“It does. Your dad has rejected our offer. And he won’t meet with us to discuss a counteroffer.”
Beth sucked in a breath and she blanched.
Fuck.
I knew it.
There was more behind Braden’s reasoning. Had she told him about me?
She rubbed her palms down her thighs nervously and then shot to her feet. I watched her, my gut knotting as she nibbled at her lip and began to pace behind the sofa.
“What’s going on?”
Beth shot me a worried look.
“Did you tell him something about me?”
Her eyes widened. “No. Of course not.” Blowing out a long breath, she hurried back around the sofa and sat down. She held my gaze, hers full of concern that baffled me. “My dad doesn’t even know we were … friends.”