“That’s women buying it,” Graham said. We quieted as he took his shot, and he hissed out a breath when the ball hooked and flew off the course.

  “Aye, that’s the truth of it. Surely you aren’t implying that you prefer to engage in a business that doesn’t attract women?” I asked as I hefted my club in my hand.

  “Och, he’s got you there, Graham. It’s not like you’ve opened a pub just to blether on with your mates all day. It’s the lasses that keep it fresh for you,” Lachlan said.

  “The Tipsy Thistle is an institution in Loren Brae, one which I’m honored to keep afloat even in these dire times.” Graham paused.

  “And…” Lachlan prodded.

  “Och, fine, I enjoy a bonnie lass here and there, don’t I then?” Graham laughed, and they fell silent as I hit my ball in a clean line down the fairway.

  “I’ve never liked you,” Graham muttered when I turned, beaming.

  “What’s this about dire times?” I asked, concern for my friend overtaking our banter. “Is the pub not doing well?”

  “Nothing’s doing all that well in Loren Brae at the moment,” Lachlan said as he took his turn at the tee. Once more we quieted as we waited for him to take his shot, and I cast my mind back to the last time I’d been to Loren Brae. It had to have been at least five years since I’d visited, as the demands of my business had kept me in other areas of Scotland and abroad. But now, after I’d recently finished outfitting a new warehouse, I was on the hunt for new distillery locations. It was one of the reasons I’d called Lachlan and Graham to meet today. I had a mind to propose a distillery location in lovely Loren Brae, situated on the bonnie banks of Loch Mirren with MacAlpine Castle as a tourist draw. I didn’t like to just build distilleries and close them off to the people. Instead, my distilleries were destinations in their own right with tasting rooms, themed events, and cafes. The distillery in Edinburgh even housed a nightclub. I’d found that people enjoyed being part of the process when it came to buying Common Gin, and I couldn’t keep my homemade gin infusion kits in stock. My father had laughed at me, pointing out that I was losing customers by teaching them to produce their own flavoured gins, but I had learned that brand loyalty went a long way in this industry.

  “What’s wrong? Is Loren Brae struggling?” I raised an eyebrow when my two friends exchanged a look but didn’t say anything. We shouldered our bags and moved onto the fairway, and I waited for them to speak. It was Lachlan who cleared his throat and finally broke the silence when we reached his ball.

  “It’s the Kelpies.”

  Dread filled me. The Kelpies had long been a myth that had clung to the misty shores of Loch Mirren, whispered tales of ancient water beasts working fear into the hearts of young children. Periodically, the myth surfaced through the years, casting a stain across Loren Brae that kept people away.

  “Och, that’s not good. How’d the talk come about this time?” I asked, easing my bag from my shoulder when we reached my ball. I fished around for the club I wanted, and drew it out, pausing when I caught the odd look exchanged between Graham and Lachlan again. “What’s that look about?”

  “Right, so, what if the Kelpies were real?” Graham asked, rocking back on his heels as he studied me. I barked out a laugh and shook my head, knowing how Graham liked to have a joke at my expense.

  “Santa Claus, too, right?” I shook my head and took my shot, amusement drifting through me. I wished I had more time to see Lachlan and Graham, as I had very few close friends who were willing to banter with me. Mainly due to my debilitating shyness, which I’d worked for years to overcome. While it still surfaced occasionally these days, if I stuck to talking about subjects I was knowledgeable in, like gin, I often could break through that barrier. With Graham and Lachlan, I could be myself, and that was just one of the reasons I was interested in building in Loren Brae. “Or has Santa himself brought the Kelpies? Rode them in on a rough winter’s day and now the beasts are raging that he’s gone back to the North Pole without them?”

  “I wish that were the case,” Graham said, an odd look on his face. “As I’d dearly love to meet the old lad. And as much as we like to take the piss out of you, Lachlan speaks the truth of it. The Kelpies are back. It’s not a myth, laddie. They’re real.”

  “Wait.” I grabbed Lachlan’s arm and turned my friend to meet his eyes. “You’re not taking the piss? What do you mean the Kelpies are real? I thought…it’s been…” A shiver drifted across my skin, like the kiss of winter’s dawn, and my heart picked up speed.

  “Trust me, mate, I had a harder time than any accepting that the beasts were real. Then they tried to kill me. Just like they killed my mum. Can’t really argue with it when you’re staring them in the face, now can you?” Lachlan’s mouth twisted wryly at his words, and I saw the flash of pain behind his eyes. In all the years I’d known Lachlan, he’d rarely spoken of his mother’s death, so for him to bring it up now meant that he was serious.

  “Och, and you’re just dropping this on me now? After all this time?” Hurt mixed with confusion. I had to admit, I didn’t like being kept out of the loop. It made me feel left out, just like all the years when my parents had made decisions about my life without any input from me.

  “Trust me when I say I didn’t want to believe it myself, mate,” Lachlan said. “I couldn’t come to terms with it. The Kelpies? Being real? Nope. I absolutely refused to accept it. Because if they were real, well, I’d have to change what I knew about how my mother died and try to avenge her death against, well, magickal beasts. It’s been a process to get here. I wasn’t keeping you out, Munroe. I was hiding from it myself.”

  “He’s not lying, either. It took Loren Brae basically closing its doors and the Kelpies screaming in his face for the man to believe. I’ve been after him for a while now to handle it, but…it’s complicated, I guess.” Graham shrugged. “And with his mum? It just didn’t feel like my place to talk about it.”

  “I think I need a moment to process.” My thoughts whirled. How could this possibly be true? Yet, the little boy inside of me who’d buried himself in books and found comfort in fantasy worlds full of heroes and dragons stood up and cheered.

  “You can have it. It will take more than a moment for Graham to find his ball anyway.”

  “Bloody hell,” Graham said as he stomped over to the edge of the woods where we had seen his ball land.

  I looked at Lachlan, really looked at him, and instantly understood just how uncomfortable this conversation was for him. I’d long known my friend to be an upstanding and honest man. He'd all but declared himself the unofficial mayor of Loren Brae, and I had never once, in all our years of being friends, been given reason to distrust the man. If Lachlan was telling me that the Kelpies were real, then I needed to suspend my disbelief and listen. And, if I was being honest? There was a very tiny, giddy, part of me that dearly hoped this news was real. Kelpies. My day had suddenly taken a very fascinating turn.

  “So it wasn’t just a straightforward drowning?” I asked, referring to Lachlan’s mum. His mum had drowned when we were all on the cusp of being teenagers, though I had only ever summered in Loren Brae when my parents had sent me to stay with family. That particular summer had been tough for all of us. Now that my friends had brought it up, the rumor about the Kelpies tickled my mind, and I remembered more than a few fearful nights walking the shores of Loch Mirren, my eyes straining in the strange light of Scottish summer nights that refused to go full dark.

  “It appears not.”

  There was a wealth of emotions behind Lachlan’s words, and I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I reached over and clapped my friend on the shoulder, and Lachlan nodded his understanding. Sometimes, words weren’t needed.

  “Bloody hell,” Graham shouted. The crack of his golf ball ricocheting off a tree reached us.

  “He’s really off his game today,” I observed as we walked over to annoy Graham.

  “Have you tried not hitting it into a tree?” Lachlan called.

  “Or perhaps staying on the fairway?” I offered.

  Graham muttered a few choice words and dropped a new ball on the ground.

  “You might as well tell us what your news is, Munroe, otherwise this entire morning will be utter shite,” Graham said.

  “It might help with your troubles. Might not.” I shifted the golf bag at my shoulder as the first drops of rain that had been threatening all morning splattered at our feet. “I wanted to get your insights on opening a distillery in Loren Brae.”

  “No kidding? That’s great news, man.” A smile split Lachlan’s face. “The town could use the boost, and I know more than one person out of a job.”

  “Is it the wrong time to build? What with the, um…”

  “I mean, it’s not ideal. But distilleries aren’t built in a day. Plus we have a plan to sort the Kelpies out. It turns out there’s an Order that keeps them contained. It’s long been a responsibility of the castle owners to see to it. So, well, we’re seeing to it,” Lachlan said.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, only answering it when I saw it was my mother. She rarely called, and worry spiked in my gut.

  “Mother? Is something wrong?”

  “Certainly not, Munroe. I’m just calling to let you know that I’ve spoken with Cassidy about blocking off the last weekend in September for the Gordons to have their daughter’s wedding at your distillery in Edinburgh. I can’t possibly understand what they see in the place, but they’ve informed me her heart is set on it. Cassidy insisted that she wouldn’t reserve the time until I’d spoken with you.” Impertinent girl. The last bit was left unsaid, but I could hear it in her tone.

  I thought you said my little gin business was a disgrace.

  I didn’t say that, of course, because I’d never been able to stand up to the icy-cold force that was my parents. Instead, I gritted my teeth.

  “That’s her job, Mother. You simply can’t ask her to close down an entire distillery at your whim.”

  “A wedding for one of the most prominent families in Scotland is hardly a whim.”

  If they are so prominent, why do they want to host it at my little distillery then?

  Again, I bit my tongue.

  “Apparently, they find the building charming, and they love the Old Town location. You know how brides are…they get what they want. I can’t possibly disappoint them. You’ll approve the weekend, of course.” It was as close as my mother got to asking, and I felt my resolve buckle. I’d promised myself that I would stop capitulating to their demands through the years, but thus far I hadn’t succeeded.

  “Of course, Mother. I’ll tell Cassidy to schedule it in, on one condition…” I paused as silence greeted me. “You will book Cassidy a nice day at your spa. Full treatment. She needs the time off and I know it would be a real treat for her.”

  “Honestly, Munroe. You’re too frivolous with the help.” Cassidy was far from “the help.” She was a highly trained executive manager that kept my business running smoothly.

  “I’ll wait for your confirmation of her spa day, and then I’ll give her the go-ahead.” My mother disconnected without saying goodbye, a sure sign that I’d annoyed her, but that wasn’t anything new for me.

  “The Ice Queen liveth,” Graham proclaimed, bowing deeply with his clubs as though he had an audience with the royals. After meeting my parents only once in all of the summers I’d gone to Loren Brae, Graham and Lachlan had instantly coined them the Ice King and Queen, and the names had stuck.

  “She’ll outlive us all.” I sighed. It might be a bit inconsequential of me to force my mother to do something nice for someone else in return for a favor, but it was the only way I’d found to gain some foothold with them and their demands through the years. I absentmindedly rubbed at the ache in my chest that always blossomed when I spoke to either of my parents.

  Never good enough. Never smart enough. Never enough. Same story, different refrain.

  “What now? Still mad you didn’t go into Macallan’s?” Lachlan asked.

  My parents were silent partners in Macallan Whisky, one of the most respected whisky brands in the world. When I had decided to follow my own path, instead of taking a job at Macallan’s as a handout from my father, my parents had been livid. Since then, they took every opportunity they could to needle me about my gin business. Even worse? The name I’d picked, Common Gin, chafed at their upper crust sensibilities. It didn’t take a psychologist to unravel why I’d chosen that name, but I liked the appeal of creating a drink that everyone could enjoy. There had been so many lonely days as a child, curled up with my books, aside from those glorious summers at Loren Brae, that there had been something in me that wanted to create community. Maybe I needed to do it to spite my parents, or maybe I needed it to fill a well that was empty inside me, but either way, I was deeply proud of how Common Gin had grown.

  “Nah, Mother wants to let her friends have a wedding at the Edinburgh distillery in September.”

  “I didn’t know you did weddings.” Lachlan narrowed his eyes. “You charge a lot for that?”

  “Sometimes.” I shrugged and ignored the question about what I charged. I hadn’t charged any fees for the weddings I’d done as they’d all been by request of my mother. The rain picked up, and I dug in my bag for my coat. “Shall we call it, lads? I’m not sure I’m in the mood to play through this.”

  “Och, and here I was having such a fine game,” Graham said, a delighted grin spreading on his face. “Let’s grab a beer and talk more about this wee distillery of yours, Munroe.”

  “You’re buying. You clearly lost even though we didn’t finish,” I pointed out as we hurried toward the clubhouse.

  “You’d think a man as rich as yourself could afford to be buying his mates a drink,” Graham grumbled.

  “Och, I can afford it. I just don’t want to.” I laughed, shaking my mother’s phone call off so I could focus on something far more interesting.

  The Kelpies.

  I chuckled to myself, even though I understood the gravity of the situation. But maybe, just maybe, I needed to believe in something fantastical—something outside the norm—in order to lift my spirits from a life of constant work and loneliness. Even if it meant that I’d be putting myself in danger, there was no way that I was staying away from Loren Brae. No, my friends needed me now more than ever.

  It looked like Common Gin would be coming to Loren Brae.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lia

  I still couldn’t believe that I was here.

  Scotland.

  Of all the places I had thought about moving to in my future, Scotland had never once crossed my mind.

  You don’t have to stay.

  It was the mantra I had repeated to myself as I’d subleased my apartment to Savannah and had packed my meager belongings into several boxes that were now in storage at Carlo’s condo. It had almost been too easy, really, to get up and go.

  Had I had one foot out the door this whole time?

  Still, Scotland had never been on my list of places to move. In the cold Boston winters, I had often dreamed about moving south, perhaps to coastal South Carolina or maybe the Keys to gaze over sparkling turquoise waters while I cooked. An international move felt so…adult. Adventurous. Like the type of thing that all those influencers and digital nomads did, showcasing perfectly staged videos on their TikTok and Instagram feeds, while seemingly never having to worry about money. A luxury that I’d never known. I stared at my image in the tiny mirror in the tiny bathroom of the tiny room I’d rented for the week and laughed. Dark circles smudged my eyes, my face was as shiny as an oil slick, and my hair sprung out around my head in a riot of frizzed and tangled curls.

  Turns out—I don’t sleep well on planes.

  Having only ever flown once before, the entire experience had been overwhelming, exhilarating, and nerve-wracking for me. I’d quickly learned that I kind of hated not being in the know, so I ended up asking a lot of questions of my kindly seatmate—a grandmotherly sort who had instantly seen the fear in my eyes and had taken me under her wing—and once I’d understood the basics of what to expect on our flight, I’d quieted down and watched a movie on the little screen in front of me.

  I’d been delighted to find that wine was included in the price of the ticket, which MacAlpine Castle had provided a more than generous budget for, and two glasses with dinner had sent me right to sleep for the rest of the flight after we’d finished eating. I’d only awoken when the grandmother had nudged me, and it had taken me a full minute to remember where I was.

  After a harrowing taxi journey along narrow roads in the murky twilight, a trip I wasn’t hoping to repeat any time soon, I’d been deposited at the door of a cheerful bed and breakfast in downtown Loren Brae. I suppose I couldn’t really call it a downtown, as it seemed to be more of a small village, actually, but I planned to explore more in the morning.

  My decision to come to Loren Brae early fell in line with the mantra that I kept repeating for myself. You don’t have to stay. Silly, maybe, as I understood at any point we could up and change our lives, but still, I clutched that reminder close to my chest like the little heart locket I wore. I wanted to scope Loren Brae out before meeting people at my new job so I could get an unencumbered view of the village to see if this was really the place where I wanted to start fresh. I knew myself well enough to know that as soon as I was shown the kitchen at the castle, I’d jump in headfirst to designing a menu and wouldn’t look up for years. Which is kind of what had happened at Suzette’s. Although I was extremely proud of what I’d built there, it had also consumed my life. Damien’s takeover, and his subsequent betrayal, had hurt me as badly as if I had owned the restaurant myself.

 

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