The Highland Fling(14)

After this whole holibags shite, I’m sure as hell not.

“Sour you’re not going with them?” Lachlan asks.

“No,” I shoot back. “Irritated they didn’t tell me until the night before they were planning on leaving.” I look around the pub, making sure no one is paying our conversation any attention before I lower my voice. “Have you heard anything around town about my da’s health?”

“No,” Lachlan answers.

“Why?” Leith asks, turning serious. “You worried about him?”

“Just doesn’t seem like his full self. He’s weak, frail looking. Maw says he’s on a diet, but I don’t buy it. He never walks around town anymore. God forbid he’d talk to me about it, though. The man would rather die puffing his chest than let me in on any fault he might have.”

“He seems like he’s lost weight,” Lachlan says. “But I thought he was just eating healthier, like your maw said. Haven’t seen him in the pub at all, or at the Admiral.”

Aye. Another warning sign.

Da loves this town, loves everyone who lives here, and thrives off talking to as many locals as he can.

I’m the exact opposite.

“Christ,” I sigh just as Isla, Lachlan and Leith’s younger sister, steps up to the table. “Hey, Isla.”

She hands out another round of drinks and takes a seat at the table with us. “Saw your maw today, Rowan. She told me all about the new lesbian in town.”

Hell.

Thank God Isla is smirking. My maw is blunt as fuck and has no boundaries to speak of. Makes living in a small town difficult.

“Said I should go make her acquaintance. Ask her out on a date.”

“One of the Americans is a lesbian?” Leith asks.

“Yes, well, according to Finella. She said Dakota—that’s her name—is recovering from a bad breakup.”

“How uncomfortable was that conversation?” I say, shaking my head.

“Not as uncomfortable as the conversation we had after she found out I was gay. Progress.” She winks.

“Is the other one a lesbian?” Leith asks, seeming far too eager at the prospect.

“Bonnie,” I say, staring down at my glass. “Her name is Bonnie St. James.”

The table falls silent as all three Murdachs stare me down.

“Och, do we know this Bonnie?” Isla asks.

I tip back my glass of whisky, though I barely let the liquid wet my lips. “Ran into her at the cottage.”

“And . . . ?” Leith asks. “Care to elaborate?”

I take another sip. “She tried to attack me with a broom but barely even tapped me. Tiny thing.”

“Everyone is tiny compared to you,” Isla points out.

“Thinking on asking her out?” Lachlan asks.

“No,” I answer, and I mean it. Yeah, her eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and behind her angry, furrowed brow, I spotted the softest of smiles, but I have zero interest in getting involved with an American, let alone one who’s only here temporarily. “She’s running the coffee shop—I don’t foresee us crossing paths.”

“Have you forgotten where you live?” Lachlan asks. “I’d be shocked if you don’t run into her at least once a day.”

“Trust me. I stay out of this town’s way.”

“Uh-huh.” Leith laughs. “Ten pounds says you see her first thing tomorrow morning.”





CHAPTER FIVE





BONNIE


Cake consumed: Zero, and I’m going through withdrawal.

New job: One—not what I want to do for life, but it will do for now.

Days since last male-induced orgasm: Seventy-two, but my dreams were pretty naughty last night.

Attractive but surly Scotsman: One, and he was unfortunately the star of my naughty dreams.

Tasks: One—make cake today.



“Is Scotland on the surface of the sun?” I lift my hands to my eyes. “Dakota, are we on the sun?” I shout.

“I have coffee,” she calls, her voice traveling upstairs to my bedroom, which feels more like a loft since there is no door and the ceiling is slanted on either side, barely giving me enough room to stand.

The prospect of caffeine gets me out of bed.

Last night, after Dakota got home from going over all the details of the coffee shop with Finella, I told her all about Rowan and his rudeness.

Was he cute? she asked.

Did he have big muscles?

Was he as strapping as Finella said he was?

Pfft, barely, I told her. Sure, if you’re into the rugged Scot type.

After Dakota filled me in on some details about our stay, we decided I would take the upstairs room. Dakota took the downstairs room. It has a little more space than mine, but that’s because she has to sleep on a twin bed, whereas I have a full.

There is no doubt my eyes are bloodshot right now from exhaustion. I didn’t sleep too well last night, even though I attempted to go to bed early—I only found myself tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable in a strange bed, in a strange cottage, in a strange country.

Might be feeling a hair homesick.

I shield my eyes as I trudge down the stairs and head to the coffeepot. “Why is it so freaking bright—?” I pause, my eyes landing on the time on the coffee maker. “What the hell? Is it really four fifteen in the morning?”