Free Wildflower Bay by Rachael Lucas

herself a flirtatious smile, looking up at him through lowered lashes. ‘Needs to be something you can hold on to,
don’t you think?’
    Finn returned the smile, with interest. Two could play at that game.
    ‘So are you new to Auchenmor?’
    ‘God, no, I’m not
living
here.’ She looked alarmed.
    ‘I’m only here for a month, helping Lily – she’ll be running it – set up the retreat centre.’
    ‘So what d’you do, then?’
    ‘I work for an investor. He has a string of holistic retreats across the country – they’re big money at the moment, now everyone’s into finding themselves. He heard about
this place, and thought it was perfect. Near enough to the mainland for people to get here easily, remote enough that they feel like they’re getting away from it all. And tied in with the
weddings up here at Duntarvie House, he’ll be hoping we’re going to rake it in.’
    ‘I’m sure you will. Doesn’t sound very spiritual, mind you.’
    She raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘There’s nothing unspiritual about wanting to live abundantly.’
    Finn, who’d learned the art of non-confrontation, backed out of the corner, changing the subject. It didn’t really matter what he thought, and at the end of the day, any financial
investment in the island had to be a good thing. With most of the young people who were brought up here leaving as soon as they could, anything that brought in visitors and money was good. And if
these holistic-retreat people were planning on working alongside Roddy and Kate, that meant more job security for him.
    ‘Shall we have a look at these carvings?’ He motioned to the wooden shapes waiting on the workbench. ‘Which one d’you reckon is up to the job?’
    It wasn’t exactly planned that Finn would end up in town that evening, taking Scarlett for a welcome-to-Kilmannan drink at the newly refurbished Anchor Bar. Nor, when the
late spring evening stretched on into darkness and the purple fingers of night reached across the sky, did he expect to take her on a slightly tipsy stroll along the beach where they sat, flirting
and chatting, watching the stars come out. And neither of them could possibly have predicted that they’d end up back at his place, music playing and candles lit, not quite making it to the
bed, falling asleep, limbs tangled, surrounded by their discarded clothes on the sofa in his sitting room . . .
    The phone woke Finn with a start. Eyes half open, he reached back behind his head, groping for the source of the bleeping.
    Coffee’s waiting. This is your morning call.
    He looked at the message blearily for a moment before it sunk in. Shit, it was half nine. It was half nine and there was an extremely pretty girl lying beside him, draped in one of the blankets
that usually covered the back of the sofa where his cat, Alfred, had scratched several holes as a kitten, years ago.
    She covered her mouth as she yawned, opening her eyes as she did so. ‘Morning.’
    ‘Hi.’ He’d done this a million times. There were several directions this conversation could take. He inhaled deeply, preparing himself.
    ‘That was a good night.’ With a graceful movement she sprung off the sofa and hooked her black cotton knickers from the leaves of a geranium that stood on the windowsill. She climbed
into them, apparently unconcerned by her nakedness, and strolled around the room collecting the rest of her clothes. ‘Anyway,’ she looked up at the clock, which hung on the wall above
the sitting-room door, ‘I must love you and leave you. Got the ten-thirty ferry to catch. I’m out of here for the weekend.’
    As she spoke she pulled on her white leggings and slipped her top over her head.
    ‘Thanks for dinner. Maybe see you around!’
    She scooped up her bag from where she’d discarded it last night by the front door (they’d come in, Finn remembered, kissing, and he’d pushed the door shut with a foot as his
hands had been wrapped around her waist, pulling her