“No, I was trying to drive on the wrong side of the road when we arrived. Wasn’t really sightseeing.” I slowly start inching closer to Dakota, keeping the chair held up as a barrier. “So you’re telling me this goat is idolized by the town?”
“Given that a lot of the businesses are named after a goat, I would say yes.”
“Which means we need to handle this extraction delicately. Got it. Well, I volunteer you. Animals like you more; they can sense your ability to connect with them.”
“Since when?”
“Since that goldfish at the pet store followed your finger.”
“It was trying to eat my finger.”
“Doesn’t matter, the goldfish thought you were good enough to eat. So go ahead; don’t be nervous. I’m sure—”
“Fergus, old lad, there you are,” Lachlan says, striding into the coffee house, followed closely by Leith. Shirtless and wearing matching kilts, they both give him a pat and then take in the horrified looks on our faces. “Awright, lasses. Everything okay?”
“They seem to be scared of Fergus,” Leith says, stroking the now-silent goat on the back of the neck.
“Scared of a wee goat?”
Carefully I set the chair down, not wanting to provoke the beast. “He startled us with his boisterous hello.”
Lachlan and Leith both laugh, and I shamelessly watch as their thick pecs and defined abs bounce up and down. The Murdachs have good genes, that’s for damn sure.
“Aye, he sure knows how to announce himself,” Leith says, patting Fergus on the back. “But he comes from an impeccable lineage that saved this very town. We would be lost without him. Back in 2001, his father’s life was threatened by the outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease, but it didn’t spread to the Highlands, thankfully. We were nervous, though—it wreaked havoc on England’s agriculture.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” I say as Dakota hops off the counter.
“Want some coffee?” she asks, acting as if she wasn’t just terrorized by a farm animal.
Leith holds up his hand. “We’re about to go do a training video for our followers. But thank you. We were just stopping by to grab Fergus—he’s a celebrity on our videos—and to see if you lasses wanted to go on a hike with us on Sunday. Picnic up at Corsekelly Castle, like I mentioned in the pub.”
“Training video?” I ask.
“Aye, personal training. The Training Kilts,” Lachlan says. “If you ever see us hopping around town carrying logs and acting like fools, it’s for a training video. We sell training packages with accompanying kilts—and we’re building quite the fan base. Which reminds me, Dakota, would we be able to pick your brain about some new graphics for our website?”
“Of course. Anytime. We’re, uh, not very busy here.”
“The coffee shop is never too busy. Shame,” Leith sighs. “Stuart put his heart into this store.”
“Was it different before Stuart left?” I ask, surprised.
“Aye. Stuart used to sell these delicious butteries with homemade jam. He would sell out by noon. That’s all it was—simple coffee, butteries, and his classic storytelling. Word got round, and tour buses would clear him out. He built quite the happy life. Then he retired, and Finella couldn’t keep up. I’m glad they’re on holibags. They need it.”
“Butteries? What are those?” I ask.
“Ehm, like a flattened croissant,” Leith answers. “Traditional butteries are hard to come by. They’re supposed to be made with butter and lard, but the mass producers started using palm oil, and they’re just not the same.”
“They sound good.”
“They look like hell. Lot of Scots call them the ‘roadkill pastry,’ because they look like they’ve been run over by a car, but have one toasted with some jeely, and I’ll tell ya, you’re in heaven.”
“I’m sad he doesn’t make them anymore.”
Leith sighs and gives the coffee house another look. “Remember when this place used to be full? Maybe when Finella gets back, she’ll have a renewed spirit.”
“Hopefully,” Lachlan agrees and then claps his hands together—prompting Fergus to scream again. The boys laugh, while Dakota and I clutch our hearts. “So, Sunday . . . are you lasses up for a hike?”
I glance at Dakota, who smiles and shrugs. “Sure,” I say. “We really don’t have any plans. Should we bring something?”