Once again, Kincaid found himself listening to pipes rushing water to spray Mia’s naked body. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and cradle his face. The bed squeaked at the slight movement. He sighed, considering his next step. Since she never spent more than fifteen minutes washing up, he had approximately five minutes to pull his head together.

Then again, what was the point? He’d blown it. She’d teasingly asked him if he loved the Baird, and he’d given her the cold shoulder. Barely said more than a few words after he grabbed his overnight bag at Douglass’s before they headed to the B&B. The old building sat on a corner, no more than half a block from Baird’s. The blankets were soft, hand stitched quilts, the wall covered in fading floral wallpaper, and no matter the time of day, the place smelled of iced buns. A perfect getaway, but all Mia had done was take the shirt he’d offered for her to sleep in, not initiating another conversation him.

His aloof reaction was why he’d exiled himself to his brother’s loft all those months. He wasn’t fit for other people's company. Hadn’t been for a long time, if he thought about it. All the SBS groupies not only knew the score, they never asked anything of him. His charm and dick were enough.

The water stopped. He held himself still, hoping for...he didn’t know. He just wanted to rewind time to the moment right before he gave Mia the cold shoulder. Fuck, go back to second he signed up to become a super soldier. Maybe then his mind wouldn’t be restless from civilian life. He could look at a woman, at Mia, and only see her smile, not her fear or doubts.

The door creaked open, and her gaze went to his. She broke the stare first.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She flipped back the comforter on the right side. “For?”

“I've been a shite to you since we left the pub. You don’t deserve that. I'm...” He swallowed the words.

She sucked in a deep breath. “What?”

He shifted through his thoughts, his fucking feelings. “I don't know my purpose anymore, and that puts me on edge.”

She looked at him, a frown creasing between her brows. “Purpose is a hefty word.”

He pushed up from the bed to put space between himself and her. He turned at the dresser to face her. “It’s the way I’ve lived for most of my adult life. I had missions. I was working toward a definitive goal. Now I’m...” He shrugged.

She climbed onto the bed. “So loving someone doesn’t have a purpose?”

He hadn’t thought of it like that. “I’m simply saying I’ve always had responsibilities.”

“But didn’t you go into the military at eighteen?”

“I went into boot camp at sixteen and a half, signed up for the SBS at eighteen. Up until then I took care of my siblings. My parents were flakes.”

Her eyes rounded. He crossed his arms under her stare. Finally, she pulled the comforter up to her neck. “With that said, apology accepted.”

“Aye?” he asked surprised.

“For the record, I wasn’t angry or hurt. It just felt like you needed a moment of quiet to get your own thoughts together.”

“You give me too much credit.”

She chuckled. “Maybe. I’ve been there, that’s all.”

She picked at some imaginary lint on the comforter, and that was telling. Outside of sex, Mia didn't hold anything back.

He left the safety of space he’d carved and sat down at her feet. “Tell me.”

She made a face then shook her head. “Remember when I told you I heard about senior citizens taking cruises?”

“I thought about it a lot before I emailed you.”

“That is...and isn’t the truth.” She found more lint to pick at. “A little over a year ago I went for my regular pap smear. They found a lump.” She quickly added, “In my left breast.”

He reached for her hand, his gut tightening with fear. “That’s...are you okay?”

“There’s a medical word for it, but it was a cyst. They removed it. For a while, though, I wasn’t sure if it was cancer or not.” She glanced at him again. “My boyfriend at the time wasn’t sure either. The only thing he did know is that he didn’t want to be with someone he possibly had to care for or watch die. I told my mother and she told all the aunts, they descended, and he disappeared in the chaos, just ghosted me after dating for a year.”

“If I ever meet this man...” He left the unspoken threat speak for itself.

Her smile was fleeting. “That’s sweet of you.”

“It’s not. It’s human decency. If your best friend did the same, you’d think them a shite.”

She pressed her face into the comforter. “Anyway, that scare happened and I decided to see the world while I was whole and healthy. I often felt lost and wondered what the hell I was doing? I’m in my late twenties. I should have a desk job where I’m climbing up the ladder, except I’m off feeding a wanderlust.”

“Do you still feel lost?”

“Some days. I don’t regret making the choice to travel. Sometimes I just want to be home, and home has felt…”

“Foreign to you, too?”

“Yeah.”

He knew that feeling, too well. “My first leave, I headed back home, dying to sleep in my own bed, and argue or fight with my brothers and sister. When I wasn’t feeling like I was taking up much needed space, I was out of sync with everyone else. AndI never felt comfortable on base or in whatever place I called mine.”

She seemed to consider him for a moment then dropped her gaze back to the lint. “Not even with your brother?”

“Especially with him. He has a museum, not a home.”

She bit her lip. “And the Baird’s place?”

“I feel...needed here.”

“But feeling needed isn’t the same as being at home.”

He shrugged and laid back on the bed. He turned his head toward her. The shower had left her soft, damp, touchable. He balled his fist against the blanket. “Tomorrow we can make a quick trip to the cabin to get you more clothes.”

She shook her head. “All you have to do is direct me to a store where I can get a toothbrush and maybe some jeans.”

“Jeans and cowboy boots? You’re such a Yank.”

“I can’t be anything else.” She tugged on the comforter. “Why don’t you get into bed like a normal person and at least pretend you’re going to sleep tonight.”

He sighed and situated himself so they could lay face to face. “I do sleep.”

“When?”

“When you’re not snoring.”

She gasped. “I do?”

God, he was so fucking smitten. “First time I thought the windows would shake out of their frames.”

“Oh, God.” She hid under the comforter.

He laughed, feeling weightless again. In this moment he didn’t have a responsibility or a purpose, but he was fine. “Kidding. You can come out from your cocoon.”

“I can’t,” she said, and the words were muffled by layers of cotton. “While under here I’ve started to think about the fact we haven’t talked about it.” Her head popped out while her leg went between his.

He was submerged in heat within seconds. “Was it fast enough?”

This time she buried her face in his chest. He didn’t mind it at all. She whispered, “Yes.”

“Well then. Did you want a play-by-play?” He waited for the inevitable next question.

“Was it good for you?”

He thought about his answer, and the sure way to get her to look at him. “Passable.”

Her head shot up. “What?”

He tried to swallow the laugh and failed. “I was tired of holding a conversation with you and not being to see your eyes.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Aye, you look like you want to hit me, but you’re looking at me again.”

“So more than passable?”

“I’m wondering when we can do fast again. Or slow. I’m keen on very, very slow.”

She cuddled closer and sighed. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He tried not to tense at her answer. He had no problem with her choosing when and where they had sex, if ever again, but now he knew who had hurt her. He knew who made her think going fast could protect her heart. He hated that she was running from the best parts life could offer, and from him. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay more than he'd wished for his parents to be parents.

Did that scare him? Fuck, yes. A lesser man might be shaking in his boots at what that could mean. Kincaid swallowed the words that could change the moment. Ones that could make her jump on the next plane out of Scotland.

“Aye,” is all he said before placing a kiss between her brows.