CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ROWAN
Power-washed balls: Check.
Date with power-washing queen: Check.
Nervous.
Excited.
Hopeful.
It’s all I can say about my upcoming date with Bonnie.
I couldn’t sleep last night.
As rain pelted against my bedroom window, I kept thinking about Callum and what he would have thought of Bonnie. There’s no doubt they would have become good friends. They both love driving me crazy, testing me, challenging me. They would most likely have become best friends within a week.
And that makes me fucking sad, which is why I’m out in my shed at four in the morning, doors wide open so I can watch the rain pepper the already-saturated ground.
Callum was keen on my pottery. Massively so, actually, and he was always badgering me to do something with my talent. I can still hear the awe in his voice when I showed him the very first bowl I made. It was wonky, uneven, and not much of a bowl, but damn it if Callum didn’t use it almost every day when he was baking. He couldn’t fathom how a piece of wet clay could be formed into something so beautiful.
Clay already prepped, I turn on my wheel. The hum of the motor fills my small space as I dip my wet fingers into the soggy clay, laying the groundwork for a mug.
You have a talent, Rowan, he said. Use it. Why stay here where no one can appreciate it? Build up your stock and move to Edinburgh, where it’s swimming in tourists looking to take home a piece of Scotland.
And that was the plan.
I was going to help bake for a few more years until Callum was fully ready to take over the shop, and then I was going to do something for myself.
That’s what I told my da I was going to do.
And that was the start of the rift between the two of us.
I’d thought he’d get over it with time, but he never did, and once Callum passed away . . . well, we haven’t been able to recover. Da keeps pushing me further and further away.
The breeze gusts outside, sending a mist of rain in my direction. I welcome it as I sit under the single dim light in my shed. That’s all I turned on. It’s all I wanted.
With a sigh, I clear my head of the past. Needing to focus on something positive, I work on the clay in front of me, slowly raising the sides, hollowing it out into the shape I drew this morning.
Something that would fit Bonnie’s small hands but also leave plenty of room for the coffee she needs to function in the morning.
After our conversation about the shop and all her ideas, I knew right away I needed to make her something to reflect this new journey she’s on. The idea came to me this morning. A simple mug with a cinch in its waist, a flare at the top, and a hairy coo stamped on the side.
Turning toward the rain, feeling the weight of it pound against the ground, I smile to myself.
“What do you think, Callum? Think she’ll like it?”
Another breeze picks up, and I smile, realizing just how content I feel in this moment. Clay between my fingers, my brother by my side, with thoughts of Bonnie dripping through my mind.
The pain and the anxiety over my parents all wash away with the rain, making me think that maybe things are about to change for me. Maybe this is the start of something new.
Something truly special . . .
I check my hair one last time in the rearview mirror of my pickup and then open the driver’s side door. I don’t have many fancy clothes, but I did find a pair of barely worn dark-washed jeans in my drawers and paired them with a light-green button-up shirt. I made sure to style my hair and spritz on some cologne. I know she likes my scruff, so I didn’t shave, hoping to rub it against her soft skin later.
With a deep breath, I head to the cottage and knock on the front door. I know Dakota and Isla are walking around the loch right now. I caught them strolling and holding hands while I drove over here, so I’m not expecting to run into anyone but Bonnie.
I couldn’t help but notice a glimmer of jealousy in Bonnie’s eyes yesterday at Isla and Dakota’s strong connection. I considered asking her about it but decided at the last minute not to. I didn’t want to dive into anything that could make her uncomfortable, even though she seems to have no problem asking me all sorts of cringe-inducing questions.
But yesterday was different. Her usual confidence disappeared, and she seemed so fragile, almost embarrassed that she didn’t know Dakota and Isla had kissed, and I didn’t want to elevate that embarrassment. So I dropped it.
Hopefully, after we left the pub, they worked out whatever awkwardness they were going through.
Footsteps approach inside the cottage.
The door opens.
And fucking shite.
My breath is stolen at the sight of Bonnie.
Dressed in a pale-yellow dress that hugs her curves and highlights her breasts, she smiles brightly at me. Her hair hangs over her shoulders in curls, her eyes are devastatingly piercing, and her lips are painted glossy pink. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.
“Wow, lass.” I smooth my hand over my mouth. “You look stunning.”
She sways cutely. “You look quite handsome yourself.”
I move in and loop my arms around her, my hands falling to the spot just above her ass. Thanks to the heels she’s wearing, I don’t have to bend down too far to kiss her. What I wouldn’t give to just push her through this door and have my way with her—but based on the number of times she’s asked me if I’d be taking her out, I need to make sure we actually leave this cottage.
Aye . . . my girl.
That’s something I never expected. Before Bonnie came to Corsekelly, I was resigned to the idea that I was stuck in the town I grew up in, doing a job I hated to appease others. But now it feels like there might be possibility for something else. Something more.
That is, if she wants to stay in Scotland. Something I try to not think about. There’s plenty of time to see if this goes anywhere, plenty of time to convince her to stay if it does.
“God, you smell amazing,” she says, pressing her lips to mine one last time, her hands gripping my shirt tightly.
“Thank you.” I find her hand and walk her to my pickup, where I open the door for her. When she’s situated, I grab the seat belt and hand it to her. “Buckle up, lass.” I wink and round the truck, hopping in on my side. “You haven’t driven to the Inner Sound yet, right?”
She shakes her head. “No, Dakota and I went northeast on our exploration. Isla gave us directions to a beautiful spot looking over a river valley.”
“Aye, well, you’re in for a pretty drive.” I turn the music up just enough so she can hear it. I’ve chosen one of my favorite Scottish bands, Tartanium, for our short road trip.
“Wow, really setting the mood, aren’t you?” she says over the soft hum of a fiddle taking a solo right before the drumbeat kicks in.
I smile at her. “Just trying to give you the full Scottish experience. Is it working?”
“I think the full Scottish experience will come later. Don’t you think?”
“Aye, if you’re lucky,” I say, laughing.
“I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
We spent a good hour at Campbell’s Carpentry picking out tables. There were two sets Bonnie couldn’t decide on, so we opted to mix and match them, which will give the space a more eclectic feel. With the new tables and chairs ordered, a purchase I know Maw will be happy about, we walked through Kyle for a wee bit, spent some time around the waterfront, and now we’re sitting in the Waterside Restaurant, our food ordered and drinks on the table. Smiles stretch over both of our faces as we stare at each other in the dim lighting.
“Who were the celebrities you assisted back in the States?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.
“My first job, I was assistant to an executive manager for a production company. The guy fired me because I wouldn’t sit on his lap when he asked me to.”
Anger rolls over me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. He said he could really help further my career if I helped him out . . .”
“What the fuck is wrong with men?” I take a sip of my water. I didn’t opt for a beer because I’m driving, but I’m coming down with the urge to drink. “I hope you told him to fuck off.”
“I did. And then he screamed that I would never work in the industry again. Which wasn’t true, because, as you can imagine, there are a lot of awful people who need assistants, and some of them don’t care if you have a reference.”
“I could see that.” Growing serious, I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “You’re very strong for making sure he didn’t take advantage of you.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Looking back now, I think I grew to respect myself a bit more.” She smiles to herself. “You know, I never looked at it that way until just now.”
“That you grew to respect yourself?”
She nods. “Yeah.” Her eyes connect with mine. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, lass. You’re the brave one.”
Hell, the way she’s looking at me right now, like I’m some goddamn hero, it puffs my chest while simultaneously twisting my stomach into nervous knots. Doesn’t she realize how much strength and courage it takes to stand up to someone like her old boss? It’s a horrible and far too common situation, but the fact that she recognized her worth in that moment makes me want to plant myself firmly by her side.
“Who were the other two?” I ask.
“The second person I assisted was a basketball player’s wife, actually. She was pretty nice, but it was her rabid troll of a sister who was the problem. She accused me of hitting on the basketball player, which of course wasn’t true. For starters, he wasn’t my type—not much into the blonds.” She winks. “But I’m also more professional than that. I valued my job too much, especially after losing the first one. But alas, the wife didn’t believe me, so I was fired—yet again.”
“Sounded like a toxic environment anyway.”
“I did like Lisa, but . . . ugh, now that I think about it, she was the one who introduced us to Isabella, Dakota’s ex. Isabella was working for one of Lisa’s collaborators. So yeah, ‘toxic’ is the right way to put it. We did have some fun times, but the fun didn’t outweigh the bad—not even close. Plus, Lisa was trying to launch her own makeup line and had me test the products. Oh boy, the number of times my lips swelled from her lipsticks is too high to count.”
“Why was she starting her own makeup line?”
“She was on a reality TV show, Wives of Basketball Players, and she was trying to capitalize on her fame. She teamed up with a shitty company that didn’t actually care about the product, just the sales, so of course it was awful. I don’t think she sold many because of the whole lip-swelling issue. She tried to pass it off as a tingle, but it was done.”
“Karma.” I wink at her.
“Exactly, and the last person who fired me was the best by far. Daloria Day.”
“Oh damn, I’ve heard of her. Isn’t she in that popular TV drama?”
“Yup, portrayed as America’s sweetheart, but she was a pill to work with. I knew that going in and I was prepared. I took notes on everything, made sure to never make a wrong step, and I didn’t. But then a costar she was crushing on said hi to me. She was furious that he gave me the time of day and had never done the same to her. So, she said I didn’t make her coffee right and fired me on the spot.”
“Isn’t that ironic,” I say. “Given what you’re doing now.”
“Orders haven’t been super complicated at the shop.”
“Doesn’t matter—you get it right every time.”
She laughs, just as our food is delivered. “Oh wow, this looks amazing.”
Together, we ordered the seafood platter, and it’s just as big as I remembered, piled high with crab legs, lobster, smoked salmon, oysters, clams, tatties, and lemon wedges. Holy hell, my mouth is watering. I can’t remember the last time I came to Kyle, or treated someone out to a nice meal, but I’m glad I asked Bonnie—for many reasons.
I hold up an oyster. “You should really eat all of these.”
She quirks her brow. “Do you really think I need an aphrodisiac to get frisky tonight?”
“You tell me.”
“I could have stayed in the minute you showed up to my door.”
“Aye . . . me too, lass.”
“This isn’t going to work.” Bonnie shakes her head and slaps her napkin on the table. “We’re going to need to leave, actually. I’m going to ask Dakota to come pick me up so I don’t have to ride back with you.”
“Could ye be any more dramatic?”
“Dramatic?” Her voice rises before she leans in and whispers, “You’ve never seen one Star Wars movie. How is that even something? Is that a Scotland thing?”
“No, I just never felt the need to watch them. Not a sci-fi person.”
“It’s not—” She presses a hand to her forehead. “It’s not really sci-fi. I mean, yeah, it’s in space, but it’s a space opera. There’s drama and love and lasers and sassy droids and hairy seven-foot-tall beasts that speak a language everyone understands for some reason. And all the hidden identities, ugh, and the new ones, a little bitch of a supreme leader who might make you laugh when you’re not supposed to because of how whiny he is. Talk about daddy issues. And strong females. I don’t think people give Princess Leia enough credit, but she’s one badass leader and, frankly, the glue that holds everyone together.”
I stare at her blankly. “Sassy droids?”
“Ugh,” she groans. “You’re killing me, Rowan. Why are you like this?”
“Just to annoy you.”
“Clearly.” She tosses her hands in the air. “Well, you’re going to have to watch them with me.”
“Don’t be that person.”
“Oh, I’m going to be that person, and I’m not even sorry about it, because for every movie you watch, I’ll bounce up and down on your lap.”
That makes me laugh out loud. “The way you use your words—I’ve never heard someone express themselves the way you do.”
“I aim to please.” She claps her hands together. “Okay, so when is this movie marathon?”
“How about after we set up the coffee shop and you learn to bake?”
She thinks on it. “I don’t know, I was thinking tonight.”
Fuck no.
“No.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “No. You’re mine tonight.”
“Since we just passed the cottage, I’m assuming we’re going back to your place?”
“You assumed right,” I say, the buildup of the evening driving me to the brink.
Her little touches here and there, the stolen kisses, that dress, the conversation, the teasing—it’s all added up to this phenomenal prospect of what’s to come.
In silence, we drive up to my cottage. I hop out and round the pickup before opening the door for her, anticipation building in my veins. After tea, we walked to Kyle’s ice cream shop, where we both got a cup of white chocolate raspberry ice cream with chocolate fudge on top. The entire drive home, all I could think about was the prospect of tasting the faint flavors of chocolate and raspberries on her lips.
I bring her inside the house and shut the door behind me. “Bedroom,” I say, nodding down the hall.
“Not even going to offer a girl a drink?”
“Want a drink?” I ask quickly.
She shakes her head.
“Then get your sweet arse to the bedroom.”
She takes my hand in hers and leads me to the back, which gives me a moment to appreciate her arse in this dress. Heart shaped and round, it’s perfect. She complained that the dress felt tight thanks to all the shortbread she’s been eating, but I think she looks like a goddamn knockout—and so did every lad who came across her tonight.
I saw the double takes, the way their eyes traveled over her body. And fine, they could look all they wanted, but there was only one Scot she was going home with.
Turning toward me, she goes straight to my shirt, where she starts to undo the buttons.
Wetting my lips, I let her and keep my eyes on hers the entire time. When my shirt is completely undone, she pushes it down my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. From there, she moves to my jeans, unbuckles them, and unzips the zipper. I push them off along with my shoes and socks and stand in front of her in nothing but a pair of tented boxer briefs.
“Sit,” she commands, and hell, her bossiness is fucking hot. I gladly comply. I sit on the bed as she turns her back to me and gathers her hair to the side. “Unzip me.”
With fucking pleasure.
I reach up and grab the small zipper, letting it glide down her back until I find the end. Slowly, she pushes the dress off her shoulders and shimmies out of it, exposing her matching pale-yellow bra and thong.
Christ, her ass is perfect, but before I can get my hands on it, she turns around and straddles me. Her arms fall to my shoulders as she glides her pelvis against mine.
“Hell, Bonnie.”
Her lips find mine, and they’re hungry, demanding, searching for even more than we had the other night.
She pushes me back against the mattress and leans down, her hair floating to the side, her lips locked on mine as her hips start to slowly grind against mine.
Oh fucking hell.
“God, I love how big you are,” she says against my lips, teasing my mouth open and plunging her tongue inside. There’s a sense of urgency coming off her. Normally, I’d ask to slow down, to live in the goddamn moment, but hell, I’m urgent too.
I reach up behind her and unhook her bra. The straps fall quickly, and she lifts up, tossing it to the side.
“Jesus fuck, you’re sexy.” My hands travel up her torso to her ample breasts. I cup them and pass my thumbs over her nipples as she continues to grind against me. Her back arches, pressing her breasts farther into my hands, and I take that moment to squeeze a little harder. With a light moan, her mouth falls open. She doesn’t hold back, doesn’t stand for shyness. She’s confident, she takes what she wants, and she’s sexy as hell doing it.
“Rowan,” she moans again when I pinch her nipples. Her hips move faster, her hands landing on my stomach now, and I swear I can sense her orgasm moving to its apex. Her fingers dig into my stomach, her breaths shorten, and her eyes squeeze shut as I roll her nipples between my fingers. “Yes, oh my God.” She falls against me and her lips descend on mine, while her hips buck up and down, until finally . . .
“Oh fuck,” she whispers, drawing out her orgasm, our underwear the only barrier.
When her hips slow down, I flip her to her back and yank off her thong, followed by my boxer briefs. My goddamn dick is painfully hard as I reach for a condom from my nightstand and roll it over. Bonnie is still lightly panting on the bed, her eyes shut.
“Lass.” Her eyes open. “Are you okay?”
She smiles. “Perfect.” Holding out her arms, she welcomes me into her embrace, and I hover above her, slowing down the evening just slightly so she can gather herself. With one elbow propping me up, I give myself a chance to glide my fingers over her soft skin, to her puckered nipples, and then all the way down to her pubic bone. I repeat the path over and over again, savoring the feel of her skin and watching how so easily she is turned on, how quickly she can recover and be ready all over again.
“I want you inside me,” she whispers.
“I want inside you too, lass. Desperately.”
Her hands cup my face, and as she spreads her legs, she presses her mouth to mine, letting her tongue tell me exactly what she wants. Positioning my cock at her entrance, I slowly push in and catch her exhale on my lips as I stretch her open.
“You all right?” I whisper.
“So good,” she says, so I move a little bit deeper, ever so carefully, pumping in and out, easing in. “So, so good.”
My hand cups her face, and I tenderly drag my thumb over her cheek as our kisses become fervent, much needier than before, but I’m not urgent with my thrusts—I keep those controlled and really focus on her mouth, on making that connection.
That is, until she wraps her legs around my hips and pulls me in all the way. She gasps while I grunt, my eyes nearly rolling to the back of my head.
Warm.
Tight.
Goddamn heaven.
That’s what she feels like. Fucking heaven.
“More, Rowan,” she begs. “I need more. I need you to move.”
I need it too.
Keeping my mouth on hers, I lift up slightly for a better angle and start to thrust in and out of her. I take it slow at first, dragging out each pulse, making sure she can feel every inch of me. And with every second that passes, I pick up the pace until we’re both breathing heavily and our bodies are slapping together, our movements becoming erratic, our pleasure mounting.
“God, I can’t get deep enough,” I say before moving my mouth to her neck, then down to her breasts.
“Flip me over.”
Taking charge, I do just that and prop her ass up. I get up on my knees, position myself at her entrance, and drive forward.
“Oh my God,” she cries out, squeezing tightly around me. “Yes, Rowan. Oh my God, yes. Just like that.”
I grip her hips, my control starting to waver as I pump into her over and over again. Her moans tear through the silent night.
“Never been this good,” I say. “Never.”
“More. Harder.”
I pick up the pace, really slamming into her. My heart rate feels out of control, my movements sloppy and out of sync, but it doesn’t matter as my orgasm builds at the base of my spine and starts to spread through all my limbs. I’m about to come, and I’m about to come hard.
“Yes, Rowan. Yes. Oh my God.” She clenches around my cock, her orgasm ripping through her, and in seconds, my balls tighten and a feral groan flies out of my mouth. I’m coming right along with her.
“Mother . . . fucker,” I call out, blackness surrounding me, nothing in my entire life ever feeling this damn good.
I pump into her a few more times before we both collapse on the bed.
Sated.
Pleasured.
Fucking spent.
I kiss the spot between her shoulder blades and then the back of her neck. She turns her head, and I find her lips. I slowly kiss her for a few more seconds before I pull away and take care of my condom.
When I return to the bed, she’s worked her way under the covers and has a corner pulled down for me to climb in. Once I’m situated, she’s like a magnet to metal, quickly pressing herself to my side and resting her hand on my chest.
I gently run my hand through her hair and listen to the light rain that’s started to pelt the roof.
“I love the rain,” she says quietly. “We don’t get much of it out in California, but when we do, I always make sure to open a window, sit back, and just listen. I feel spoiled that I get to hear it all the time here.”
“For a while, I hated rainstorms, because of Callum. They just reminded me of him, but now I’m starting to think of them as more of a moment to connect with my brother. To remember the good times.”
“Tell me one of them.”
Smiling, I give it some thought, reaching back into my Rolodex of memories. “Da hates being startled. He freaks out every time and always says, ‘Get tae! What’re ye doin’?’” She chuckles along with me. “So, Callum and I used to try to come up with different ways to startle him and record it. This one time Callum thought it would be genius to hide in the fridge.”
“What? How did he do that?”
“Maw always waits till we’re almost out of food before she goes shopping, so it was the perfect moment. She was out at the market in Kyle. Da was watching rugby and knew he had a few beers left in the fridge. We removed all the shelves, and Callum snuck in when he heard Da coming to get a beer. I was acting as if I was looking for a snack in one of the cupboards, but secretly I was recording. Da opened the fridge, and Callum popped out. He scared the living daylights out of Da, who was so startled he punched Callum dead in the face. Not on purpose, just out of a pure gut reaction to fend off what he said at the time was the ‘feckin’ Loch Ness Monster.’”
“Oh my God,” Bonnie laughs at my side. “That’s amazing.”
“It was. Maw came home to a peeved husband, a son who couldn’t stop laughing, and another son with a black eye. That was the end of the scaring, at least for a few weeks, until Callum thought popping a balloon near Da’s ear was the next-greatest idea.”
“Was it?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t. Callum found out quickly that Da’s reflexes were even sharper in such close proximity.”
“Another black eye?”
“Aye.” I chuckle, reveling in the realization that I can talk about my brother with Bonnie and not feel pain—just happiness. “From then on out, it was always distance scares.”
“Smart boys.” She sighs. “I’m an only child. Dakota is too, and I think it’s why we’re so close—we truly only had each other growing up. She has always been my person, through thick and thin.”
“I can see that. You two have a wonderful relationship.”
“We do.” I kiss the top of her head, and quietly she says, “Rowan?”
“Hmm?”
“You make me happy.”
I sigh. “You make me happy too, lass.”