Attractive but surly Scotsman: One, and he was unfortunately the star of my naughty dreams.
Tasks: One—make cake today.
“Is Scotland on the surface of the sun?” I lift my hands to my eyes. “Dakota, are we on the sun?” I shout.
“I have coffee,” she calls, her voice traveling upstairs to my bedroom, which feels more like a loft since there is no door and the ceiling is slanted on either side, barely giving me enough room to stand.
The prospect of caffeine gets me out of bed.
Last night, after Dakota got home from going over all the details of the coffee shop with Finella, I told her all about Rowan and his rudeness.
Was he cute? she asked.
Did he have big muscles?
Was he as strapping as Finella said he was?
Pfft, barely, I told her. Sure, if you’re into the rugged Scot type.
After Dakota filled me in on some details about our stay, we decided I would take the upstairs room. Dakota took the downstairs room. It has a little more space than mine, but that’s because she has to sleep on a twin bed, whereas I have a full.
There is no doubt my eyes are bloodshot right now from exhaustion. I didn’t sleep too well last night, even though I attempted to go to bed early—I only found myself tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable in a strange bed, in a strange cottage, in a strange country.
Might be feeling a hair homesick.
I shield my eyes as I trudge down the stairs and head to the coffeepot. “Why is it so freaking bright—？” I pause, my eyes landing on the time on the coffee maker. “What the hell? Is it really four fifteen in the morning?”
“Yup,” Dakota mumbles from one of the red couches.
“What kind of game is the sun trying to pull right now?” I fill up a cup and swirl some sugar around in it.
“Summer in Scotland means longer days. Didn’t you notice it was still light out when we went to sleep?”
“I just assumed we were going to bed early.”
“We went to bed at ten last night,” Dakota says, staring out the window.
“What?” I groan. “Good God, where the hell did you take me? Accents, sheep stomach, water buckets for toilets, and endless sun. I don’t think my body is ready for this.”
“It’ll get better, once we’re here for a bit. It’s just a bit of a culture shock at first.”
“A bit?” I ask, sitting on the sofa across from her. “A Scotsman saw me in my towel yesterday and was unfazed when I pushed him with a broom. There is something fishy about the people out here.”
“He’s probably thinking the same about Americans, since you tried to defend yourself with a broom.”
“That’s not being weird—that’s being innovative.” I sip my coffee. “What the hell are we supposed to do for six hours before we open the coffee shop?”
“Explore? Get some food?”
“Uh, earth to Dakota, nothing opens up around here until nine.”
“Oh yeah.” She scratches the side of her head. “Man, I forgot about that. Uh, we could go look at the Penis Stone.”
“Ah yes, six a.m. adventures to go look at a penis stone—that’s exactly what I want to do.”
“There’s food here—I saw some muffins in a cupboard. We can pack them up and go for a walk along the loch, have a picnic breakfast.”
The internet is shoddy at best, there’s no TV in the cottage, and our only mode of entertainment is a bookshelf full of romance novels that I plan on tackling while I’m here, but my eyes are too busted for reading at the moment.
So a picnic by the loch sounds like a plan.
“Okay, let me go change.”
“Yeah?” Dakota asks, looking surprised.
“Yeah.” I nod and stand, taking another sip of my coffee.
I head upstairs, where I unpack a pair of leggings and a long-sleeve shirt. I toss them on quickly before I put my long hair up into a messy bun—a look I’m sure I’ll adopt with the ever-changing weather. No use doing my hair if it’s just going to get rained on all the time. I slip on my workout shoes and then head downstairs, where Dakota is pouring our coffee into to-go cups.
“Did you pack the muffins?” I ask.
“Not yet. They’re in the cupboard above the fridge. I think there are some apples in the fridge too.”
“Perfect.” Dakota brought her hiking backpack, so we load it up and head out the door into the crisp morning air.
Calm greets us. The air doesn’t seem to shift, but it carries a fresh weight that seeps into my bones and wakes me faster than the coffee. Birdsong surrounds us as a light haze lifts off the ground and dewdrops cling to each blade of grass from last night’s rain.