The Highland Fling(54)

“I think so too,” Isla says as both of their gazes fall on me.

“Thank you for your opinion, ladies, but I think you two should just focus on yourselves for now. Which reminds me, Dakota, shouldn’t you be asking Isla—?”

“Isla, why don’t I walk you out?” Dakota cuts me off before I embarrass her.

“Oh aye.” She gives me a wave. “Enjoy the basket. Don’t eat it too fast.”

I shove a shortbread cookie in my mouth. “I won’t,” I say as it melts on my tongue. “I know how to pace myself.” I pick up another cookie and shove it in my mouth. So good.

So freaking good.

Together, they walk out of the coffee shop, and, being the nosy friend that I am, I tiptoe up to the door, ready to eavesdrop. Just as I reach the threshold and lean an ear out, a large body blocks me.

My mouth still full of shortbread, I slowly move my eyes up the broad frame and find a curious pair of green eyes looking down at me.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing?”

“Eavesdropping,” I say as crumbs fall from my mouth. “Care to join me?”

Rowan nudges my shoulder, moving me out of the way. “No. Give them space.”

“But what if she’s doing it wrong?”

“She won’t.”

“But—”

“Give them space,” he says a little more sternly.

“Ugh.” I back away. “You’re taking all the fun out of my friendship. We intrude on each other’s lives. That’s what we do—it’s what keeps us alive.”

“Aye, well, not this time.” He runs a hand down my shoulder, and his large palm connects with mine—which distracts me just long enough for him to pull me deeper into the coffee shop, where we both take a seat at one of the tables. “What do you need help with?” He releases my hand, and I kind of want to ask him if he’d hold it again.

“I need help listening in on my friend.”

“Bonnie.”

“What?” I smile widely at him.

“Let them be.”

“You’re really annoying.”

“So you’ve told me. Now, unless you actually need help with something, I’m going to leave.” He starts to stand, but I quickly grab his hand and tug him back down.

“No, I do need your help.” I nod toward the coffee maker. “Can I get you some ordinary coffee?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” I cross one leg over the other. I catch his gaze land on my freshly shaved legs for a brief moment before they travel up to my face, sending a shiver of lust straight up my spine.

One look—that’s all it takes where this man is concerned.

One look, and I’m ready to bounce up and down on his lap.

I clear my throat. “Have you seen the reviews for the coffee shop on the tour bus websites?”

“There are reviews?” he asks, looking confused.

“Yes. All the tour bus companies provide information for each stop, and in Corsekelly, almost all the reviews say not to bother with the coffee shop because there’s nothing special about it.”

“That’s not . . .” His voice fades as he looks around the empty space. “Well, it wasn’t always like this.”

“But it is now, and something needs to be done. We’ve been here for over two weeks, and I think I’ve served coffee a dozen times. We’ve had days where the only visitor was Fergus.”

“My maw couldn’t take it all on. It was too much.” He runs his hand down his face. “Still don’t understand why my da retired. I really think . . .” Rowan bites the side of his mouth. “Hell, I think my da might be sick, and he’s not telling me. He insisted he was just tired and they had enough in savings and retirement for him to be done. But it was too hard for my maw to let go. She loves being in town, talking to everyone, but she doesn’t know how to keep up or how to create any grand ideas to actually improve the shop.” He chuckles to himself. “The only grand idea she had was to blast the job advert on social media, and look what that did.” He nods at me. “Brought two nosy and irritating Americans into town.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, because I know for a fact that I’m growing on you.” I fluff my hair.

“Aye, and how do you know that?” he says, nudging my leg playfully.

“Uh, do you not remember the hug before you left the cottage, confessing you had fun with me?”

“I think I was still drunk.” He smirks, and I melt.

“Nice try, Grumpyshire. You’re totally into this.” I motion my hand up and down my body and watch his teeth tug on his lower lip while he takes me in.

Dear Jesus, please help me keep my shirt on right now.

His eyes return to mine. “So, what’s your idea?” he asks. “I know you have one brewing in that head of yours.”

“I was hoping we could overhaul the coffee house. Freshen it up, bring back the butteries, and add more coffee choices—real ones. Make it cozy in here, a place where tourists want to stop in. We could sell merchandise that centers on the Boaby Stone and Fergus, the things that make this town unique. Even the hairy coos. We don’t even have any pamphlets that direct tourists where to go. You could do so much—like a town bingo. You’d distribute the cards to the tour buses ahead of time, and in the half hour they’re here, there’d be a few things the tourists have to do, have to visit, and then they’d get a free shirt or something. I don’t know, I’m just spitballing here, but there’s so much potential, especially with the popularity of Iron Crowns, which I saw online—just signed on for three more seasons.”