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golden liquid, a little skeptical.
    â€œJust down it.” He tipped his glass up and it was gone.
    She did the same, knowing enough about whiskey to not let it stay in her mouth too long. It tasted smoky and immediately warmed her down to her toes.
    â€œNice, huh?” He poured her another and she drank that one too.
    He had one of those smiles that made a girl woozy. Or it could be the first effects of the whiskey.
    Graham handed her another drink. “You wanted to talk about contractors? Sinclair by the back table there, he’s our local craftsman. Do you want me to introduce you?”
    â€œNo.” She downed the next whiskey. “I’d like to see his work first. Which houses has he worked on?”
    â€œThe Ramseys’, the MacGregors’, the other Ramseys’. And of course my house. Would you like to take a look at mine?”
    A naughty thought skipped across her brain and warmed her down in her belly. “What?” It took a second to realize he wasn’t propositioning her. “Your house. Yes, great.”
    â€œGet your coat.”
    â€œNow?” she asked. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth . . . but why was he being so congenial? Did he have an ulterior motive for getting her alone?
    Like he’d read her mind, he gave her a look of complete innocence. “Bonnie has the bar under control.”
    Cait moved her eyes to where he looked. A thirtysomething blonde in need of a breast reduction glared back.
    Graham put his hand on Cait’s back, ushering her to the stairs. “Get a move on. The snow is really coming down.”
    Bonnie shot her some serious stink-eye daggers, so Cait hurried past her and up the stairs.
    When Cait got back from bundling up, Graham was waiting, bundled up himself. He held the door open for her. A blizzard blew outside, the snow coming down almost sideways.
    She braced herself and stepped outside. “Bonnie is your barmaid?” she shouted over the gale.
    â€œMore than that. She’s the pub’s manager,” he shouted back. “Takes care of things while I’m gone.”
    â€œAnd while you’re here?” The scowl on Bonnie’s face made Cait wonder if Bonnie was taking care of more personal matters for Graham.
    â€œShe takes care of things while I’m here, too.”
    I bet she does.
“What things?” Cait couldn’t help asking.
    He stopped, and she thought he had a weird look on his face. “Pub things.”
    She wanted to ask if that was all. But didn’t. They walked on.
    â€œThe pub is my way of giving back to the community,” he added.
    They slipped and slid along the path, the snow making it treacherous. At one point she had to hang on to his arm to get over a bit of ice. She got to feel his rock-solid biceps again. And she liked being that close to him. It made her feel safe.
    As they approached her gran’s house, guilt surfaced. Cait really should stop and see how Deydie was doing. But Graham led her up a path behind Deydie’s house. They climbed and climbed up the narrow winding path until they stood in front of a stone mansion.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding me.” She pushed past him to get a better look. He’d built his place next to the ruins of Monadail Castle. “I played here as a child.”
    He gestured to the door. “Go on in. I’m off to get a few logs for the fire.” He left her and went around the side of the house.
    When she stepped inside, it was like walking onto the set of a BBC Scotland film
—
the dark wood, the ornately carved twin staircases, and the huge coat of arms at the apex.
    An old sable sheltie wandered in from the other room with its tail wagging.
    Cait squatted to greet the dog. “Well, who are you?”
    Graham came through the same doorway as the pooch. “That’s Precious, my best girl.”
    â€œWell, of course she is,” Cait said as she gave the dog a good