Rosy-cheeked, from the cold most likely. Her eyes pinged from Esme to Max then back again. Margaret smirked. Esme glared.
If he was any good at reading women’s signals and, like his flirting skills, they were rusty, Max would’ve bet cold hard cash Esme had told her that he was a crusty old man. Esme had obviously lied. Not that he slathered himself in youth potion or hunky man juice or anything, but he was relatively confident he was a step up from the abominable snowman’s granddad.
Perhaps the exchange of meaningful looks between the women meant Esme was staking a claim on him.
He quickly pulled the plug on that idea. Esme was a beautiful woman and an heiress. She doubtless had queues of men ready to slip a ring on her finger.
Something instinctive told him the socialite scene wasn’t her gig. Anyone who announced she picked up poo wasn’t someone who fancied being a pretty bauble for some man to parade around on his arm. Maybe that was why her clinic was hidden away up here in the Highlands. Down in Glasgow or Edinburgh she could be at the doorstep of so many more people who would benefit from her therapy dogs. He had something teasing at his memory he couldn’t quite bring to mind. Something he’d skidded over on the internet when he had been researching her work here at Heatherglen. A romance gone bad, perhaps? Whatever. Not his business.
As if she’d been reading his mind and wanted the thoughts to stop, Esme cleared her throat.
‘Margaret,’ Esme said pointedly, ‘may I introduce you to the man behind Plants to Paws, Max Kirkpatrick?’
‘Hello, Max,’ Margaret said, a merry twinkle in her bright blue eyes. ‘It’s very nice to meet you. Esme simply hasn’t been able to stop talking—’
Before Margaret could elaborate, Esme cut in with a very polite, stagey voice, making great use of her enunciation skills. ‘Margaret, don’t you think it would be lovely if we got the dogs ready to meet the new residents? Max here was just on his way to get them.’
Margaret’s eyes pinged between the pair of them before she answered in the same stagey, highly enunciated voice, ‘Why, yes, Esme, I think it would be lovely.’
‘Great!’ Esme gave a decisive nod. Margaret didn’t move. Esme tilted her head towards the kennels.
Margaret threw an apologetic look in Max’s direction. ‘We normally wait for the residents to be in the room before we bring the dogs in.’
He took that as his cue to leave. Which was just as well, because it was all he could do to keep a straight face. Not that he was certain the women were having a non-verbal he’s mine fight over him, but…it certainly felt that way. It’d been a hell of a long time since anyone had played tug of war for his attentions. No offence to Margaret, but if he were remotely interested in having his heart shredded to smithereens again, he knew which way the pendulum would swing. Not that falling for Esme was an option.
He’d adored his ex. Had loved her to within an inch of his life. She’d been all for his plan to save up money to buy his mum a house. Had supported his extra tours of duty. The overtime. The delayed returns. He’d thought she was amazing. Right up until he’d discovered her largesse was easier to bear because she’d been having a full-on affair with her boss. Not that she’d offered him the ring back or anything, but the fewer reminders of what it was like to have his emotions in someone else’s power the better.
After he’d managed to brush most of the snow out of Fenella’s hair and Euan’s hood, they went back to the reception area, where Esme was wearing a very professional, very controlled smile.
They made a quick exchange of names, handshakes and the obligatory offering of gingerbread men. Both Euan and Fenella were so excited they could barely stand still.
‘Have you had a chance to settle into your rooms yet?’
Fenella and Euan exchanged quick looks before Fenella answered for the pair of them. ‘We’ve not seen the barracks yet, no.’
Esme’s eyes shot to Max’s.
Oops. He should’ve warned her he might’ve been teasing them on the ride up. There may also have been a mention of dungeons and castle keeps.
She twisted her lips into a little moue before that cheeky grin surfaced again. She’d rumbled him. ‘I think Dr Kirkpatrick may have been preparing you for a Christmas surprise.’ She nodded towards the castle. ‘Your rooms are in there.’
Euan threw Max an incredulous look. ‘You mean we’re staying in the castle?’
‘Looks like it.’ Max gave the back of his neck a swift rub. It was nice to be giving good news for once.
Euan put his hand up for a fist bump. ‘Result, Doc!’
Max met his fist bump and then, to make sure the kid still knew his place, pulled him into a loose headlock and gave his head a light knuckle-dusting. Euan seemed to like it. Poor guy. He didn’t have a dad to rough and tumble with. Someone to have his back when he needed it. Snap. At least Max had had the military. Brothers in arms and all that.
When he looked up, he caught Esme looking at him and Euan with that soft smile of hers. One that rammed an arrow straight into his heart. It wasn’t often a woman saw his soft side. Then again, it wasn’t often she stuck around long enough to find out he had one. After things had gone so apocalyptically wrong with his fiancée, he had decided he wasn’t built for relationships, so didn’t see the point in letting a woman know he had a heart thumping in his chest. Anyway, moving on…
Esme suggested Fenella and Euan pick a toy and a couple of bags of treats each from the display rack before they met their dogs.
Euan looked at her with disbelief. ‘You mean…we just take them?’ He threw an anxious look at Max.
‘I told him everything was gold plated here.’ Max said, as neutrally as he could. There was no chance in the universe these two could afford some of the high-end collars and doggie coats on display so he’d wanted them to know things were for looking at but not for coveting. A valuable lesson his stepdad had made a point of impressing on him right from the start. He wanted cool trainers? He’d have to earn them. No time for a job and military academy? Well, then, looked as though he’d have to do without.
Euan’s eyes were practically glittering with possibilities. Max’s hand went back to his wallet. He’d pay if necessary. Just the once. It was, after all, Christmas.
‘They may not look like it, but these are tools that will help you work with your dog. So, while you’re here, these are free,’ Esme explained, without the slightest air of a have giving to the have-nots.
Max’s respect for her went up another notch.
‘Don’t worry about stocking up on treats for ever. We’ll be sending along food and treat parcels once a month to keep you going for at least the first year as we’re well aware you weren’t prepared for this sort of expense. If it’s too much at the end of that, we’ll set up a support programme. For now, though, help yourselves. Think of this as an all-inclusive Christmas pressie.’
Fenella laughed. ‘Don’t say that to Doc Kirkpatrick. He hates Christmas.’ She put on a voice to mimic Max’s. ‘Nothing comes for free in this world.’
Euan guffawed and gave Max a light arm punch. ‘Yeah. I tried to get him to
