The Highland Fling(53)

The air stills between us, despite the fresh breeze wafting in from the open kitchen window. The prolonged anticipation that’s been building between us—the hate, the fights, the curiosity, the attraction—it feels like it’s colliding all at once, in this moment, and it’s almost unbearable.

Boldly, his eyes rake over me, resting a little longer on my breasts and then climbing to my eyes. They flare, entranced, as I lick my lips. The smoldering flame flickering in his eyes, the rise and fall of his thick chest, the clench of his jaw—all signs that maybe, just maybe, the pull I’m feeling toward this man isn’t just me. That he very well might be experiencing the same thing.

He takes a step forward, his hand slides around my waist, and I swear to God I can feel my knees weaken as his strong hand grips my side. His other hand lifts my chin as he wets his lips. I hold my breath.

Waiting, anticipating . . . hoping that his mouth descends on mine. Hoping that, even though we might be at each other’s throats, he finds it as exciting as I do.

His thumb pulls on my lip, and he lowers just a little bit more—until Dakota opens the bathroom door and walks out, whistling a Taylor Swift song.

Rowan quickly steps away and pushes his hand through his hair, turning his back to me.

God damn it, Dakota. She doesn’t even come into the living room—she walks straight into her bedroom without giving us a glance.

“I should go,” Rowan says, not looking at me but instead ducking his head and moving toward the door.

“Wait!” I call out, desperate. “I . . . uh . . . can you, um . . .” Jesus, spit it out, Bonnie. “Can you help me with something?”

He looks over his shoulder. “Right now?”

“No,” I say, even though I want to say yes. I want to ask him if he can help me with the ache between my legs. Hey-o. “Later, can you stop by the coffee shop?”

“Sure.” His brow furrows. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Not really. I’m nervous, excited. I want to stay in his arms. And I want to talk through my thoughts about the shop, but I’m scared he might think they’re stupid, not worthy of consideration.

“Okay.” He takes a step away, and I hear him exhale harshly before he turns around, grabs me by the hand, and pulls me into another tight hug. With his chin resting on my head, he says, “I had fun last night.”

“I did too,” I admit, feeling those butterflies Dakota was talking about.

He squeezes me and then takes off, giving me a brief wave before exiting the cottage.

A large smile erupts over my face as I watch him walk away.

Oh no . . . this isn’t good at all.

It’s happening. I think I’m crushing on Kilty McGrumpyshire.



“Hey, lasses,” Isla says, walking into the coffee house with a basket of shortbread and Dundee cake. God bless Dakota for snagging the baker in town. “I brought you some replenishments.”

“You didn’t have to do—”

“You’re a doll,” I say, cutting Dakota off and taking the basket. “I was craving shortbread this morning after my walk.”

“Did you do the Hairy Coo Footpath?” Isla asks, leaning against the counter near Dakota.

“I did, and I love it so much. Those hairy coos are adorable. Might be my favorite part of Scotland.”

“Oh, Rowan isn’t?” Isla teases with a wink, making Dakota laugh out loud.

“Did you hear he stayed the night?” Dakota says.

Isla nods. “I did. Caught him doin’ the walk of shame on the way to the bakery.”

“There’s no walk of shame. Nothing happened. We just passed out in my bed. Trust me, if something happened, my lady parts would know about it. Let’s just say it’s been quite a long time since I’ve done the walk of shame.”

“Interesting. He looked like he got some last night,” Isla says, which piques my interest.

“Is that so?” I lean my chin into my hand and bat my eyelashes at her from over the counter. “Please, tell me more.”

She chuckles. “He was smiling, and it’s not very often Rowan smiles.”

I press my hand to my chest, and I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. “I did that to him. I made him smile.”

“Aye, something did, and I’m guessing if he spent the night at your place, you played a role.”

“He made us breakfast and did the dishes,” Dakota says. “He was actually really sweet. Didn’t even ask, just started taking care of us.”

“That’s Rowan for you,” Isla says wistfully. “He might have a hard exterior, but he’s quite gentle, and he takes care of his own. I’m starting to guess that he’s seeing you as part of his small inner circle. You two are lucky.”

That’s a good way to put it, because I feel lucky. Rowan seems like the kind of person who doesn’t bring many people into his life, but when he does, he does everything he can to keep them in and take care of them. It’s evident in the way he speaks of Isla and her need to be asked out for a change, or in how he steered me away so she and Dakota could have a night alone. He’s considerate, and I’m wondering if my annoyance with him earlier blinded me to that.

“I can tell he’s a good man. I think Bonnie should go for him,” Dakota says with a knowing look.