The Highland Fling(45)
“I love nachos,” Bonnie says, taking a seat at the picnic table. Dakota sits next to her, and Isla takes a seat across from Dakota, which leaves me with sitting across from Bonnie.
When I take a seat, Bonnie’s eyes widen.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Isla invited me.” I smirk.
“I hope that’s okay,” Isla says, always the people pleaser. “I can kick him out right now, and he could get his own nachos.” I know she’s not serious, but I’d allow it if she was.
“Please kick him—”
“The more the merrier,” Dakota says, elbowing Bonnie.
Just then Hamish delivers the beer and the nachos, something he never does, but then again, he’s always had a soft spot for Isla. Who doesn’t here? She owns a bakeshop, is incredibly sweet, and is always one of the first locals to volunteer to help out wherever it’s needed.
“Thank you, Hamish,” she says.
“Of course, darling. Enjoy.” He nods at me quickly and then takes off.
“Wow, these look amazing,” Bonnie says while Isla starts pouring everyone a glass of beer.
Clearing her throat, Isla meets Dakota’s gaze. “How was your day?”
Dakota smiles, her whole face flushed. “It was productive.”
“Oh? What did you do?”
Shifting in place, she glances at Bonnie and me—Bonnie chowing down on a nacho, completely oblivious to Dakota’s discomfort. “Uh, you know, just some stuff on the computer.”
Heat slides up the back of my neck as I realize just how much the girls want privacy.
“I’ve never been a super fan of jalape?os,” Bonnie says, staring down at one that’s pinched between her fingers. “Which is weird, given that I’m from Southern California. You would think Mexican food is in my bloodstream, but then I had one a few months ago by accident and I couldn’t help but think, ‘spicy, but delightful.’” She pops it in her mouth and looks around the table. “Really good.”
Dakota clears her throat. “Do you, uh, like jalape?os, Isla?”
“I do,” she answers awkwardly.
“Now, olives. Ooo-eee, there’s something I’ve never been able to get enough of,” Bonnie says, picking one up and plopping it in her mouth.
“Do you like olives, Isla?” Dakota asks, and holy hell, I’m dying a slow, slow death.
“I do,” Isla responds. “Do you?”
Dakota is about to answer when Bonnie says, “Oh, she loves them. When we were kids, she used to buy five cans at the store, and we’d sit under my trampoline with a can opener eating them all. It was a weird addiction, but our parents were glad we weren’t doing drugs. Oh, these chips are amazing. Crunchy and holding the cheese just like—”
“Bonnie, I need to show you something,” I say, standing from the table.
“What?” she asks, appearing completely confused. She looks me up and down. “What do you need to show me?”
“It’s over there.” I point to the stone wall.
“Uh . . . I’m good.” She picks up another nacho, and I glance down at Dakota, who shoots me a pleading look.
That’s it—she wants her friend gone so she can relax with Isla. I get that. If I was trying to go on a date and my mate was with me, it would be hard to relax.
I round the picnic table. “It’ll just take a second. It’s important.”
“You’re being weird,” she says. “Why are you talking like your jaw is clenched tight?”
Dear Jesus, this woman.
“Just go see what he wants,” Dakota says, nudging Bonnie in the back.
“What if it’s his penis or something? Last time a guy said he wanted to show me something, he stretched his nutsac over his pants and said, ‘Look, it’s gum.’”
Who the hell is she hanging out with?
“Do you really think I would do that?”
Bonnie gives me a smooth once-over, her eyes resting a second too long on my chest. Finally, she answers, “Maybe.”
Christ.
“I’ve never met a more infuriating woman,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Oh yeah, now I really want to leave with you.” Bonnie rolls her eyes.
Dakota shoves Bonnie this time, and they exchange a look. In that one look, I can see Dakota secretly telling her friend to get the hell up. Luckily, it works. Bonnie stands and smooths her dress. “Fine, but if he shows me his ‘gum,’ you owe me some more shortbread.” She sighs and turns toward me. “Okay, show me whatever it is you want to show me.”
The girl really is clueless sometimes.
I grab her by the upper arm and walk her over to the wall, far enough away from the table that no one can hear us.
She looks around, examining the area, and then turns to me. “What? Is there some kind of special rock that will give you luck if you rub it? Is there another Boaby Stone here?”
“You’re really fucking clueless.”
“Excuse me?” she asks, hands on her hips, and hell, the position only lifts her breasts more.
I clear my throat. “They’re on a date.”
“Uh . . . duh. I’m her wing-woman.”
“Yeah, pretty sure Dakota doesn’t need a wing-woman at this point.”