Mia didn’t know what she’d find when she entered the cottage, but there was no Kincaid waiting for her on the couch. When she crept to the room, she found him asleep right where she had left him. He’d thrown an arm over his eyes and the other hung over the side of the bed.

He looked not at all like a force of nature. How could he? His tan lines had faded now that he was no longer taking daily doses of a desert’s sun.

She felt wide awake and would likely remain that way for some time. Mia closed the door, padding her way back to the living room. It was three in the morning, meaning she could call her friend.

Tasha didn't bother with a greeting. “What country are you in now?”

“Scotland.”

“Really?” The shock and confusion in her friend's voice sounded genuine. “Still? Hasn’t it been like two weeks?”

Two weeks. That was it? Felt like longer. “Things came up and I found it hard to leave just yet.”

The line fell quiet, and Mia didn't rush to fill it. Finally, Tasha said, “You sound strange.”

She huffed with laughter. “Strange is such an optimistic word. It's like I can hit normal eventually.”

“Have you been drinking? You start to get philosophical when you are.”

Mia shook her head like her friend could see the motion. “I'm not, but before we get into my life, how are you?”

Tasha’s laugh had an edge to it. “I had a one-night stand. I don’t regret it. The experience was fun, but I don’t think that’s for me. I like cuddling, waking up in the morning and he’s still there. Or I am. I’m not much of an—”

“Adventurer,” Mia finished for her friend.

“Does that sound weird? Or like I’m making a cow path out of my life?”

Traveling the world sounded fun, at the outset. Still kind of was a year later. Mia could discover anything and everything, but if she kept on the path of flitting from one place to the next, would she ever have a home again? Would she feel grounded? Would her and Tasha grow apart? Not because they had a falling out, but because their lives were so different. Mia would miss one too many milestones because traveling never fit a set schedule. “No. I think...I’m starting to understand how standing still, neck deep in living from day to day, can be just as uncertain and fun.”

The line went quiet. “Mia?”

“Yeah?”

“How are you?”

“Tasha, when I call, I want to talk to you. Not about what I'm doing, but...” Mia sighed and cupped the back of her head to ease the tension in her neck. “Before I started to travel, I'd come home from work and make a beeline to your place. You would have stolen all the sleep you could and would be getting ready for work. You'd tell me about your nights at whatever bar. I'd give you the office tea. I—”

“What? You can say it, Mia.”

“I don't know.”

“Yes, you do. You have something to say, but you don't know how because you think it'll hurt my feelings.”

Tasha was right. Mia laughed. “Heifer, get out of my mind.”

“No, heifer. Just say it.”

“I think sometimes you think my life is this grand thing. When a lot of the past year has been lost luggage or delayed planes or not getting the right currency. Waiting in lines. I swear if I calculated all the time I've simply waited to travel...”

“So you're saying you want me to go on at length about the blister that burst on my foot?”

“Sometimes. Shit, let's use this good Wi-Fi and paint our nails like we used to on Friday nights when we didn't have dates.”

“Mia...”

She knew that tone. Mia braced herself. “Yeah?”

“You're over there with one of the sexiest men I have ever laid eyes on and you want to virtually paint nails with me? And we're going to ignore how I need to know every last detail between you and a Scotsman?”

Had Tasha tripped up and fell into an affair, with a Scotsman, fuck painting their nails. Mia would want every last detail down to the man's dirty drawers. “So I've been a bit remiss. What do you want to know? No. Where do you want me to start?”

“It's...three? Oh, my God. It's three in the morning where you are. What is going on? It has to be some kind of existential crisis. Do tell.”

Mia found herself laughing. “First things first. God, I have missed you.”

“Same. Back to your crisis.”

Mia pulled her feet up on the couch, settling in to really talk to her friend. “Everything in my life feels upside down right now. I came to Scotland on a whim.”

“Let me stop you there. You didn’t. You called me all on the fence about it. You had some sleepless nights, gnashed your teeth, and then you finally listened to your gut like I told you to.”

“I’ll give you that, but I thought it would be fun, and light.” Mia stopped to breathe and to gather some courage to say the next. “I thought it would be easy to leave after I’d been here for a while. Each day it just gets harder. I want to know what happens next.”

And I’m so fucking scared.

“Then why don’t you? You can literally do your work anywhere in the world as long as you have an Internet connection. Hold on.” The typing of computer keys filled the quiet. “It’s an eleven-hour drive to Paris, France, and if you fly it’s only about one-hundred bucks.”

“What?”

“I’m saying you can stay in Glasgow or whatever and still fulfill your wanderlust if it hits you. You are only hours away from another country. You're a train ride away from tons of places that we only read about in magazines or books.”

That was all true. Why did her heart kick up at the very thought of staying? “Why are you so invested in me traveling?”

“Because it’s made you happy. We met in college and you weren’t...” Tasha sighed. “You had this wanderlust then. The world was your oyster. After we graduated, you considered working in Germany. You don’t speak a lick of German, but you didn’t care. So, I care because in many ways you’ve always colored outside the lines.

I love that is what makes you you, and I find it inspiring. I can be brave and try new things, because that’s what you do. I would hate to think anything scares you from living.”

Mia swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m starting to think you want me to sob on the phone.”

Tasha snorted. “I’m just telling the truth. If that makes you cry, then so be it. Your Scot won’t mind.”

Her Scot. Her heart, her chest felt tight at that. “Any advice?”

“Screw his brains out, if you haven’t already.”

Amused but frustrated, Mia only said, “Tasha.”

“What? Isn’t it scientific men translate sex into love?”

“I don’t love him.”

“Hmmm-huh. That’s why you called me when it’s three o’clock in the morning your time.”

Love was a pretty big word with a lot of complications. She wasn't ready to use it and didn't know if she'd ever be. “His brother had an emergency and I had to drive him to a private airfield.”

“And women who are not in love do that all the time.” Pause. “Wait. Who is his brother?”

“Some big wig at a private equity firm. He was actually in the bar that night when I met Kincaid.”

A longer silence filled the other end of the line. “And he needed a ride in the middle of the night?”

“Yes and no. He could have paid anyone to come get him. Hell, it's nothing but land for a helicopter, and I have no doubt he could snap his fingers to get one. He wanted to get me alone to question me.”

“Oh,” Tasha said all knowing. “He was checking you out.”

“Pretty much. He wanted to know, in his words, 'what's your neurosis?’ I told him to fuck off in a nice way.”

“Ah,” Tasha said.

“I understand he wants to protect his brother, but...”

“Have you told Kincaid? Has he asked?”

“It just happened, and he’s asleep.”

Tasha hummed in a way that let Mia know she had a lot more to say but wouldn't. “Are you going to tell him?”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Again, both lines went quiet. Mia couldn't help but think about how that conversation would go with Kincaid.

Your brother wanted to know my intentions.

Brow lift. And they are?

Ummmmmm.

She pressed to fingers to the bridge of her nose to scare off the beginnings of a headache. “Does any of this matter if I’m not going to stay?”

“Yeah,” Tasha said simply.

And after that, Mia and her friend sat there in the silence. She had a choice to make, and it wouldn’t be easy.

The front door opened and closed. “Kincaid?” she said softly.

He breathed easily for the first time in hours. “In here. In the kitchen.”

Kincaid had woken hours ago to an empty house. Dread plagued him thinking Mia had left. With no bodyguard to be a buffer, she’d just given up on her luggage. As he ached for her to be near, she had gone on to London, forgotten him to soak in the history of a new world around her.

Mia had gone because he had too much to drink, told her things that scared her more than slow sex and because his brother was a meddling twat.

Her footsteps thudded against the tile. She had to be wearing those daft cowboy boots. He turned his head to see her past the kitchen's archway. She wore a sundress with a long open sweater that reached her knees.

He broke his stare to glare at the late-night dinner warming in the pot. The outfit should've been dowdy, but how could she be unattractive to him? He loved the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed or smiled. He adored the way she tried to look at the world as one long adventure. He was smitten at the way she remained cautious when she spent most of her life as a vagabond.

Mia didn't make a lick of sense, and Kincaid loved that. He hated himself for loving that, because he knew what happened next.

His stomach clenched. She stopped at his side and tilted her head. Her gaze took all of him in one sweep.

“You don’t look like you’re suffering from a hangover.”

“Is that why you left without waking me?”

“You were in no condition to work. This was day two of killing your liver.”

“Aye, right.”

She sniffed, following her nose and bringing her closer to him. “Stew?”

“Some lamb, carrots, and tatties. I’ve put a drop or three of my whisky to see how it cooks.”

Her hand pressed to the middle of his back. “Why are you babysitting it?”

Because for the past hour he’d been torn between the urge to call his brother to chew him out or texting Mia. Neither option seemed sound, not while his temper brewed. She slid her hand down to his tailbone.

“’Caid?”

“M?”

“You’re really tense. Do you want me to back off?”

He lowered the fire and carefully placed the stirring spoon on the edge of the oven. He caught her gaze and held it. “When are you leaving?”

She dropped her hand and took a step back. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. He used teeth to nip the corners of her smile. When the smile turned into a moan, Kincaid pulled back and tried to stuff the heat, the low burn of frustration and the ever-present ache deep down until he went numb. It used to be easy. He wondered why he hadn't fallen back on that technique until now.

Mia's moan was more like a huff of impatience. She pressed against him, rising to her tiptoes to take more of him. He balled his hands into her hair and jerked her head back, exposing the column of her neck. He closed his mouth over the skin, right where she had told him to all those months ago.

She grabbed his shirt and let out a sharp gasp. “’Caid, fuck me.”

Any thought to breaking away, slowing things down to talk flew the fuck out of the window. He dropped his hands to her ass and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles in place.

He laughed at her readiness. “Just one question: floor or wall?”

She ran her tongue along his bottom lip. “Table?”

Kincaid took three steps to the left and dropped her so they were face to chest.

“Are you going to tear off my panties again?” His Mia was all gumption, sass in a short frame.

“Do you want me to?”

She bit her lip and he had to shake his head. She was mentally debating the pros and cons of him tearing off her panties.

“How about I let them stay tangled around your cowboy boot for a while?”

“Deal.”

Kincaid did as promise. “Good enough,” he said as the thin string dangled from the shoe.

“Are you going to even bother with my dress?” Mia reached down to cup his dick through his jeans.

“Nope. This time I want fast.” He pushed her hand away to pull his cock out. Her teeth went back into her bottom lip, her gaze not straying an inch away from his hands undoing the button then the zipper. He watched her chest rise and fall, so slow when his hands peeled down his underwear. “Now are you going to play with my dick properly?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Properly?”

He took her hand and closed it around the tip. “Stroke down softly until pre-come spills out. Then firmer strokes. That’s how I like it.”

“Like this?”

He groaned. Her hands were the perfect combination of soft and firm. “Aye.” He dug into his pocket for a condom. “Put that on for me.”

“You’re just going to watch me fondle you?”

“I like the way my cock looks in your hands.”

She rolled the condom down his length, softly, but stroked him with a tight fist. His breath got caught in his lungs. “Like that, lass.”

He grabbed hold to her legs to pull her to the edge of the table.

She laughed, low. “No foreplay?”

“After.”

Her brows went up. “There’s more after your version of fast sex?”

“So much.” He cupped her chin again. “Are you going to put my dick to work or keep playing with it?”

He had to close his eyes when she pressed the head against her clit. His next breath, she shifted, and the head of his cock slipped inside her entrance.

He hissed. “How are you this wet already?”

She leaned back on the table. “I kept thinking about last night while I was at work.”

He pushed in deeper. She bit her bottom lip again but didn’t look away from him. “Last night I would have buried my head between your legs until you begged for me to just fuck you already.”

Her pussy tightened around him. Pleasure sang up his spine when he pulled out. “Put your hands on my wrists, love.”

How could she leave when they were like this with each other? He dragged his hands down her torso, then gripped her hips. Kincaid gave her a taste of what he had in mind—one punishing thrust, deep as he could go. The table legs scrapped against the tile floor.

“Do you want something different, lass?”

“I just want you inside me, ‘Caid.”

He slammed into her again. She moaned, digging her fingers into his wrists. That’s all he needed as encouragement to piston his hips. She held onto him, her eyes closed and her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

They could have this, all the fucking time, and she wanted to leave? Kincaid moved his thumb over her clit. Her legs inched up, making her clit his for the taking. He took, gently at first. Harder when her pussy spasmed. Soft again when her nails scraped up his forearm until she could fist his hair, dragging him down to her mouth. She kissed him as roughly as he kept fucking her.

He cleared his mind of everything else but Mia, and how his body tightened, coiled as his own orgasm worked through him. If he had any will to hold back, he lost it when she kissed his neck softly and murmured his name.

He let out a curse and followed the need to come. Eventually the ringing in his ears died down enough he could hear her low chuckle.

“You just roared.”

The unexpected statement teased out a smile. “Like a bear or a lion? Tell me lion.”

“You are now my Scot bear.”

Hers. Fuck, he wished. He mustered up some strength to lift her from the table. They collapsed on the living room floor in front of the fireplace. She snuggled into him, but her fingers kept dancing along his forearm.

“Do these hurt?”

He glanced down at her hand. Four welts traced up his arm. “Don’t feel them, but I won’t be squeezing any lemons on myself anytime soon.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

He shook off her hand and cupped the back of her head. “That’s my job.”

She let him. In the moment that’s all that mattered. Soon, they would have to talk about her departure. He needed definite dates. Kincaid wasn’t built for uncertainty, not in this new life where no one was the enemy. Too soon, she’d have to go.