Begin Reading
Table of Contents
About the Author
Copyright Page
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
Chapter One
Anna Maitland was waving the toddler class out the door of her dance studio, the strains of “The Wheels on the Bus” still resonating in her head, when her phone buzzed. Not an unusual state these days with the Highland festival three weeks away. Anna was doing her best to keep everything and everyone on track while the Buchanan ladies were seeing to an even bigger project—the birth of a baby.
Even though she tried to temper it, her voice retained the singsong tenor she used to cajole the toddlers into behaving. “Hello. Anna Maitland here.”
“Howdy there, I got ’em.” The male voice was double-battered and country-fried and held the peculiar familiarity of a born-and-raised Southern man of a certain age.
Anna had attended and been part of the festival for years. In fact, no one had won Lass of the Games, awarded to the best dancer, as many times as she had, but she’d never been in charge of anything but her dance troupe. This year, she was in charge of everything. She’d had no idea everything ran the gamut of getting the stage set up and organizing the vendors, to verifying the number of portable potties and parking attendants needed.
All the while, Anna was trying to wrap her head around the fact her best friend, Isabel Buchanan, was having a baby. It didn’t seem real. Maybe because she hadn’t seen her best friend beyond a few video chats for almost a year. Just last summer, Izzy had embarked on a two-week fling with Alasdair Blackmoor and ended up falling in love. Now, she was married and having a baby. It was crazy-scary how fast life could deliver blessings and, for that matter, tragedies too.
Izzy had been put on bed rest a month earlier, and Rose Buchanan and Gareth Blackmoor had flown to her side to await the birth of the next heir of Cairndow, dropping the festival in Anna’s lap earlier than they’d anticipated.
At first, Anna had relished being in charge of the festival. She was ready to prove herself. Anyway, it’s not like she had a life outside the studio. No boyfriend. No hobbies. No family. At least, not since the winter, when her mother announced she was selling Anna’s childhood home and moving into a retirement community in Florida.
While it had been a shock, Anna was used to people leaving. She was out to prove she could do it all—and then some—on her own. She needed no one’s help.
She cleared her throat and tried her best to sound professional. “Who am I speaking with?”
“You will,” the man said.
She switched hands and pressed the phone tighter against her ear as if that would help deciphering his words. “I’m sorry. What will I do?”
“I said, this is Ewell Hightower.” The man spoke slower and louder as if he’d gotten the town idiot on the line. “From down around Macon.”
She riffled through her mental files for a vendor in Macon and came up empty. “What can I help you with, Mr. Hightower?”
His laugh was nasal but good-natured. “Call me Ewell. I gots your animals.”
“What animals would that be?”
Now it was his turn to pause and consider. “Have you talked with Gareth?”
As a matter of fact, she hadn’t. Rose and Izzy had been her contacts since they had spent the last decade planning the festival together on the grounds of Stonehaven, the Buchanan family home. “No. Should I have?”
“He leased a Scottish blackface ewe and a Highland cow for the festival you’uns is putting on up there.”
The phone grew slippery in her suddenly sweaty palm. While there had been talk of incorporating animals into the festival, she assumed those plans had been on hold until next year when Gareth could oversee the new venture. The man Gareth had promised to send to help out wasn’t expected for another week, and Anna feared he’d be more hindrance than help anyway.
“I see. I’ll need to discuss the matter with Gareth and get back to you. We may have to cancel.”
“You’uns would be out a fair amount if you cancel. ’Sides, I’m already on my way. Got the paperwork. Can you meet me out at your place to take delivery?”
The background sounds parsed itself into a combination of the radio and road noise. Anna grimaced and mouthed a curse. “How far away are you?”
“Just passed that fancy WELCOME TO HIGHLAND sign. Are you out at the big house now?”
The big house could only mean Stonehaven. “I’m not.”
“I’ll need someone to sign off and take possession of the girls.” It was a statement and an assumption someone would be there to handle the deed.
The girls. Ewell made it sound like they were arriving for a carefree sleepover. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
“Good enough, then.” Ewell disconnected.
The surprise put Anna’s thoughts into a tumble. Izzy had warned her there would be unexpected hurdles; she just hadn’t counted on stumbling over so many this early in the race. She scrolled through her contacts and hit a name.
Keisha answered in her usual chipper voice. “What’s up, Teach?”
“I need a favor. I have to run out to Stonehaven and take a delivery for the festival. If I’m not back, can you and Gabby run the girls through the routine a couple of times?”
“Sure thing. You know I love to boss everyone around.” The laughter in Keisha’s voice was usually infectious, but Anna was too stressed to join in.
“Thanks, sweetie. Try not to turn into a dancing despot. I’ll buy you a coffee or some ice cream down at the Brown Cow after class.”
She hit the end button then climbed into her black VW Bug and peeled out of the parking lot behind the studio, heading toward Stonehaven. Gareth was going to get an earful. What time was it in Scotland? It didn’t matter. Gareth deserved to get dragged out of bed for this. She hit the call button. No answer. The butt chewing was on hold.
She pulled onto the pebbled lane to Stonehaven. Trees on either side of the lane offered a brief respite from the sun. Her AC hadn’t even had enough time to cool her off when she parked by the row of pine trees between the house and barn next to Izzy’s old truck.
The house’s facade was stone and it had a castle-like feel with a turret even though the inside was straight out of a Southern Living magazine with a comfortable, breezy elegance that epitomized Rose Buchanan. Stonehaven provided the perfect backdrop to the festival that was held on the grounds.
She slid out of her car and paced next to Izzy’s old truck. Pollen muted the tartan-painted hood and stripes down the side. Had it even been driven since Izzy left a year ago? Like a medium, Anna laid her hands on the truck as if she could somehow connect with her best friend a thousand miles and many time zones away.
A pine cone thudded next to her hand and bounced to the ground, making her jump. She gave a little laugh at her unusually whimsical thoughts. Maybe she was channeling Izzy after all, considering her friend was in the middle of writing a fantasy novel.
The rattle of a trailer brought her back to reality. An enormous dou
ble cab truck towing a horse trailer approached, passing her and parking close to the barn. Ewell swung himself out of the driver’s seat and hopped to the ground from the running board.
With a weathered, worn face that could have been anywhere between sixty and eighty, Ewell was short and bowlegged and reminded Anna of a cheerful garden gnome.
“You Miss Maitland?” He spit tobacco to the side and offered her a gnarled hand.
She shook it and nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mr.… I mean, Ewell.”
He pushed a sweat-stained Atlanta Braves baseball cap off his forehead with a thumb and grinned at her with tobacco-stained teeth. “Weren’t expecting you to get all gussied up for me.”
Anna looked down at herself and smoothed her tutu made up of lengths of different colored tulle. Her young kids loved the rainbow vibrancy. “I’m a dance teacher, but that’s not important. I only drove out to say that you need to take these animals back with you.”
“Cain’t.” Ewell sauntered to the trailer and lowered the gate to form a ramp.
Musky animal scents hit her like a slap in the thick air. The large trailer rocked with the shuffling of hooves, punctuated by grunts. Were they doing something X-rated in there? She squinted, but the trailer was shadowy inside compared to the bright day.
“Of course you can.” Anna waved a hand, wishing she could spirit the entire problem away. “Just leave the creatures in there and drive away. Keep the deposit. How much was it again?”
“Not about the money. Got two steer in there to deliver south of Nashville, and I’m picking up a full load of milking cows. Ain’t got room.” The first animal out of the trailer was a sheep with a black face and luxurious white coat. “I left her unsheared in case Gareth wanted to demonstrate.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Gareth isn’t here.”
Ewell spit another stream of brown tobacco to the side. “Obviously.”
He handed her the rope lead to the sheep, clopped back into the trailer, and pulled out a hairy brown animal with a set of curved horns. It tossed its head, less docile than the sheep. The cow wasn’t at all like the ones she saw grazing behind fences on the side of the road or the one that jumped over the moon in picture books. Although, honestly, she’d never been this close to one before.
The Highland cow had long, silky-looking brown fur and stubby legs. Hair flopped into its eyes like an adolescent pop stars. The cow seemed to have an attitude to match. It shook its head as if trying to free itself from the harness. Or maybe it wanted to gore one of them with its horns. She took two steps back.
“Gareth is not just not at Stonehaven; he’s not in the country. He’s not here to care for the animals.” Desperation crept into her voice.
Ewell held out the cow’s lead, and she took the rope instinctively. Immediate regrets surfaced while he closed the trailer and walked back toward the cab of the truck. She tried to follow, but the Highland cow refused to budge. All she could do was hang on the end of the tether, putting as much space between them as possible.
Ewell returned with a clipboard and pen. He tapped a blank space at the bottom of the paper held in place on the clipboard. “Sign there.”
She skimmed the paper. It was a lease agreement with a clause to buy at the end of the lease if both parties agreed. The leasing amount would be deducted from the final sale price.
“I can’t sign this,” she said.
“Here. Lemme hold ’em, so you can sign.” He exchanged the leads in her numb fingers with the clipboard and pen. He squinted at the sun. “Not to rush you, but I gots a long drive and an appointment to keep.”
Feeling backed into a corner Gareth had built, she sighed and signed.
Ewell touched the brim of his ball cap with a forefinger. “Thank you, ma’am. Now this here is Ozzie.” He held out the lead of the blackface sheep. “And this’un here is Harriet.” He held out the cow’s lead.
“Ozzie and Harriet?” she murmured. Innocuous names for such large animals. They looked more like a Bonnie and Clyde. She took the leads with a feeling of overwhelmed exasperation. “What the heck am I supposed to do with them now?”
Ewell nodded toward the barn. “That’s what a barn’s for, ain’t it?”
Was it? She thought barns were for drinking and smoking and making out. At least, that’s what they’d been good for in high school.
Ewell swung himself back into his truck and hollered, “Good luck!” out his window as he rolled down the lane toward the main road. Anna was left holding the leads.
“Come on, then. Let’s throw you in the barn while I call for reinforcements.” Anna prayed Holt had time to help her out. It was a busy season for him on his family farm, but he was always willing to lend a hand. The Piersons were avid supporters of the festival, and Holt was training for the athletic competitions, like the stone throw and caber toss, to win Laird of the Games.
Ozzie the sheep followed her with a good-natured, docile attitude Anna appreciated. Harriet, on the other hand, was being a real bitch.
“Move, you foul creature from hell,” she muttered, pulling on the lead. The cow cast a baleful eye in her direction and jerked her horned head. A game of tug of war had commenced, and Anna was losing.
She wasn’t a country girl. She had never owned an animal, not even a dog, and she’d certainly never had to maneuver a cow into a barn. Trying a different tack, she circled around to the cow’s haunches to push. Except, Ozzie’s position put her too far away and now the sheep had turned stubborn and refused to move.
Anna dropped Ozzie’s lead, pointed at the sheep, and said in the voice she reserved for especially rambunctious classes, “Don’t you dare move. Not a step.”
When Ozzie just blinked and stuck her tongue out to work her jaws, Anna turned her attention back to Harriet. Very slowly, not sure what to expect, Anna put her hands flat on the cow’s rump. Her fur was surprisingly soft and springy and felt like a padded cushion. Anna nudged the cow, but she didn’t move. Then, she put her weight into the effort. Nothing.
The cow’s tail twitched up. The plopping sound registered before the unmistakable earthy smell. Anna reeled backward while Harriet left a steaming pile of poop on the driveway. “That’s just lovely. Real ladylike, Harriet.”
The deposit seemed to be what Harriet had been waiting for, and she finally lumbered forward. Anna turned with relief to get Ozzie’s lead and froze. The sheep was gone. Anna turned in a full circle, scanning and seeing nothing that resembled a sheep or a path left by a sheep.
A trickle of sweat ran down her back and into the low scoop of her black leotard as she tried to steady her discombobulated thoughts. First thing she had to do was secure Harriet in the barn, then she would go in search for her lost sheep like Bo-Peep. If she were going to be dropped in the middle of a fairy tale, she would have preferred one with a hot prince.
Fleeter of hooves now that she’d dumped her load, Harriet rambled toward the barn. Anna peeled the doors open and blinked to adjust to the sudden shadows. It was much cooler inside the barn, and Harriet quickened her step to reach the shade. Water and some sort of food would be needed soon, but the most pressing concern was finding Ozzie.
Anna closed the door and made sure it was latched securely before circling around through the line of pine trees and the field behind the barn. She shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned for movement. A shot of relief made her feel dizzy.
Ozzie had made it farther than Anna had expected, but there she was at the edge of the patio, plucking the heads off the flowers in Rose’s prized flowerpots and eating them.
“Get away, you scallywag!” Anna hollered, waving her arms in the air.
Ozzie did move but only to the next pot to decapitate a burst of yellow pansies. If she’d been in boots, she would have stomped across the field, but she was in thin-soled ballet slippers and pranced rather than marched with a full head of steam powered by frustration.
At this rate, Anna was going to have to cancel her interme
diate ballet class. The tall grass irritated her bare legs and left her itching as she quickstepped closer. Ozzie looked up from her flower munching and regarded Anna with bland amusement. Or at least it seemed that way.
“Oh, is that how we’re playing it? You don’t think I can handle you? You’ve never seen me corral a bunch of four-year-olds.” Anna sidled closer, her hands out and ready to grab the lead.
Ozzie shuffled to the side and made a sound that Anna hoped didn’t mean she was ready to attack. Anna stopped moving. What were the statistics on sheep-related deaths? She didn’t want to end up on the news as an amusing freak accident. “Little Bo-Peep Trampled by Sheep.”
Anna and Ozzie were at an impasse.
* * *
A loud clang roused Iain Connors out of his jet-lagged stupor. The unnatural sound shot enough adrenaline into his veins to make going back to sleep impossible. Sun sliced through a narrow opening of the curtains, and he stared at the dancing dust motes. For a moment, he was adrift, and it took a few blinks around the room to place himself in the universe.
Highland, Georgia. Stonehaven. He’d arrived late the night the before after a long flight. The shuttle he’d taken from the airport had been loud and bumpy, and besides the brightly lit road signs, he’d seen little beyond shopping centers and then tree-lined roads as they’d left the city.
A muffled voice outside sharpened his focus on the window, and he hauled himself out of bed to peel the curtains all the way open, squinting at the brightness. He shook his head and blinked at the unexpected sight greeting him.
A blackfaced sheep munched on flower heads while a lass in a rainbow skirt taunted it. Had the lack of sleep left him addled? The woman was lithe with wavy, red hair escaping from what may have once been a neat bun. Was he dreaming? Was he still in Scotland? He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. The lass was still there.
He unlatched the window and raised the sash. The sharp cry of a blackbird greeted him along with the trills of other songbirds. A blast of humid heat left him feeling slightly braised. No, he was definitely not in Scotland, and if he needed further proof, the woman’s accent was husky and honeyed and all Southern. Her voice reminded him a bit of Rose and Isabel, but sexier. Much sexier.
A Highlander in a Pickup Page 1