“Oh, that’s a really good idea.”
Together we roll out the dough and then set it to the side to cool—as far away from the ovens as possible.
“Let’s start on the tattie scones.” He pulls out a large can of premade mashed potatoes, and I gasp out loud.
“You use premade mashed potatoes?”
He chuckles. “Old family secret. You can’t tell the difference, and it cuts down the work significantly.”
“Wow, the MacGregor clan, cutting corners. I kind of like it.”
“You’ll like it a lot, because the recipe calls for a pound of mashed potatoes, and I doubt you’re going to want to peel, chop, and boil multiple batches of potatoes every day.”
“I didn’t even think about that.”
He gives me a chaste peck on my cheek. “Stick with me, lass—I’ll show you all the tricks.”
He sets out everything we’ll need for the tattie scones, and even though I know he’s been weird about it, I still can’t help the question that flies past my lips. “Why are you so reluctant about baking for the coffee shop?”
“I knew you were going to ask that today.” He checks the recipe again. “Surprised it took you this long.”
“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to. I was just curious. You seem to be so good at it.”
“I am. Growing up, we always helped in the kitchen. But Callum had a passion for it. He had plans to grow the coffee shop with Da, possibly expand over into Kyle. The butteries were their bread and butter—no pun intended. Not many people will take the time to make them, but a lot of people want them.”
“I can see that.”
Turning around, Rowan folds his arms over his chest and leans against the counter, his eyes looking toward the open window that’s letting in a nice, cool breeze. “Growing up, it was clear I wasn’t set on working in the coffee shop. I wanted . . . other things. Da wasn’t happy about that, but he accepted it because he had Callum. They were much closer than I’ve ever been with me da. But the day Callum died was the worst day of my life, and not just because I lost my brother. I also lost my father.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, stepping in close to him and placing my hands on his folded arms.
“Our relationship was already a bit . . . strained, but then he blamed me for what happened. Blamed me for Callum drinking, for not being cautious, for us being a bunch of eejits.”
“But it wasn’t your fault—you couldn’t have predicted what was going to happen.”
“He didn’t see it that way. I’m the older son, the protector, and that day, I didn’t protect my brother. It caused a huge rift in the family. Da was broken, and working in the shop every day—without Callum—just about killed him. Slowly, his spirit started to fall, his willingness to try new things vanished, and he stuck to simple things, because simple was all his heart could handle. Finally, by the time he was ready to retire, he would only serve butteries, and mainly to the locals.” He reaches out and pushes a strand of my hair out of my face and behind my ear. “I told Da I’d help him. That I would make it up to him, help him bake, make Callum’s dreams a reality.”
He chokes up, and my heart nearly breaks. I run my hand up to his chest and press my palm to his heart, letting him know I’m here.
“Da didn’t want my help. Said he never wanted to see me in this kitchen again. I was the one who didn’t want a part of this life, so I didn’t get to have it. And when I set out to find my own path, he shut that down too, said I needed to stay close for Maw and take care of the town. Corsekelly thrives off its own, and losing two MacGregor boys could break it. So . . . I stayed.”
“Oh, Rowan.” I hold back the tears that threaten to fall. “I’m so sorry.”
This man has sacrificed a lot in his life. From the outside, it wouldn’t look that way—he’d look like just another grouchy curmudgeon with something against out-of-towners, but peel back the layers and you’ll find a beautiful soul, with an equally beautiful heart, wanting to help. He’s just struggling to do so.
“So, why change? If you’re not allowed in the kitchen, why now?”
The corner of his lip tilts up. “Well, this stunning blonde walked into my life and begged me.” He smooths his thumb over my cheek. “I also saw the worry in Maw’s eyes before they left. She’s not the type to do something so extreme, like try to make an advert go viral. She’s always been the quiet one and speaks up when the time is right. Something must be going on for her to have brought you and Dakota in.” He looks off to the side, a clench to his jaw. “Something is going on with them, and they’re not telling me. So I figured, if they’re not going to tell me, then at least I can help you make their life’s work into something more. Restrictions be damned.”