The Highland Fling(44)
“Shona shouldn’t assume and just keep to herself. We were stuck in a rainstorm, got wet and muddy. That is all.”
“You two danced together.”
Jesus Christ, does she have a camera crew following me around?
“You know, you don’t want to talk about where you are, and I don’t want to talk about Bonnie—got it?”
“Watch your tone, lad,” Da cuts in again.
“You know, I have to go. I have some things to do.” I stare down at my fizzy water.
“Oh, okay, dear. Well, stay in touch, and make sure the lasses are taken care of. Anything they need, lend a helping hand.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We love you, Rowan.”
Exasperated, I blow out a low breath. “Love you too.”
I hang up my phone and take a look at the time. Little past six thirty. I could use more than just an electrolyte water at this point. I could use an entire bucket of beer.
I stand from the sofa, head to my bedroom, and pick out some fresh clothes before turning on the shower. I’m heading to the pub.
Friday night at Fergie’s Castle is always packed, but Hamish opens up the doors and allows outdoor seating during the summer. Makes the space less crowded, and having a few pints with the loch lapping at the shore across the way is soothing.
Because everyone is at the pub on Friday, I put on a nice pair of jeans and a simple white button-up shirt, making sure to roll the sleeves up to my elbows. I’ve styled my hair for once and am about to leave when I quickly spray a bit of cologne that I never wear. My friends might appreciate some cologne.
This has nothing to do with possibly seeing Bonnie.
Not even a little.
When I make my way into town, I can already tell that Fergie’s has a little bit of a crowd, based on the noise emanating from the building. A few summers ago, Hamish spent a great deal of time working on the pub’s outdoor courtyard and repairing the stone wall that borders Loch Duich. He added planters that hold flowers during the summer and sprigs of spruce during the winter. He evenly spaced out picnic tables with large red umbrellas securely fastened in the middle, providing protection from what sun we do get. And then, toward the wall, he built a ladder ball court for those drunken nights when you think your ability to throw balls on a string is on point, when it’s really not. I suppress a smile at a few rowdier memories as I step onto the courtyard. To my surprise, a few picnic tables are still available.
Excited to be able to sit outside and enjoy a pint, I’m making my way past the picnic tables—just as someone grabs my hand.
“Rowan, you look nice.”
I glance down to find Isla, looking nice as well in a summer dress, her red hair gathered high on her head in a ponytail.
“Hey, Isla. You look good yourself. I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Oh really? Am I that squirrely day to day?” She smirks at me.
“You know what I mean.”
She tugs on my hand. “Join me. I ordered a pitcher and two plates of nachos. They’re the special tonight, and you know I’m not going to pass up some nachos.”
“Two plates’ worth?” I chuckle. “And a pitcher—you’re going to need someone to carry you home.”
“No, it’s not all for me. I’m expecting company.”
“Who . . . ?”
“Hey, Isla.” I don’t have to turn around to know who just excitedly greeted her, but I do anyway. “Who’s your friend—?”
Bonnie is standing next to Dakota, and they’re both dressed up as well and . . . hell, Bonnie, uh . . . fuck, she looks drop-dead gorgeous.
Her long blonde hair is styled in waves and is pinned back half up, half down. Heavy black mascara highlights those mesmerizing eyes, and a light shade of pink paints her plump lips. And that dress. Hell. Light blue, it’s tight around her waist and breasts and flairs out at her hips. Mouthwatering, that’s the only way to describe her.
“Oh, Rowan.” She chuckles. “I didn’t recognize you in a button-up shirt.”
“Should say the same about the dress,” I say, and her eyes narrow.
“You both look really nice,” Isla says sweetly before clearing her throat and turning to Dakota. “I love your hair.”
Dakota blushes. “Thank you. You look great too.”
And oh my God, they’re on a date . . . with a third wheel.
Bonnie is the dead giveaway—she’s stepped off to the side and is twiddling her fingers together in front of her chest, looking far too excited.
We both stare at Dakota and Isla, who are staring at each other and smiling. I don’t know much about Dakota, but from what I’ve seen, she could be a good match for Isla. They’re both calm, thoughtful, and take good care of their friends.
Hence the reason I’ve been asked to become this date’s fourth wheel.
Normally I would quickly bow out and grab a pint to myself, sit on the stone wall, and stare out at the loch, but I have a feeling—from the way they’re staring at each other—that they’re going to want some alone time, but there is no way they would dingy Bonnie. They’re not that kind of people.
So . . . looks like I’m on Bonnie patrol tonight. Great.
“I ordered us the beer you two said you liked and some nachos. I hope that’s all right,” Isla says with a nervous smile.