Kincaid had known but had not truly understood the bliss that could come from a soft, warm woman kissing the fuck out of him. He slid his leg between hers and waited for the inevitable light ground of her hips. She arched her pelvis forward and moaned at the friction. He pulled back, settling his back against the storeroom door jamb.

Her gaze was a bit unfocused as she smiled up at him. “Are we meeting up for dinner-lunch or are you going to slink off to parts unknown again?”

He covered his mouth with hers, and barely muffled her laughed. He took the opportunity to fill both of his hands with her arse. Were the choice left up to him, he'd have spent most of her shift copping all the feels he could get. She broke the kiss, looking softer and warmer than when they entered the pub's backroom.

“I will be leaving you here to handle the Baird on your own.” He could see the question in her gaze as the words settled between them like she didn't have the right to ask. She was drifting away from him already. “You can ask whatever question you just had.”

Mia put another inch of space between them. “You'd tell me if you wanted me to know. I'm not the kind of person to pry.”

Lies. Mia and the Baird got along because they both meddled shamelessly. “I'll be back before the end of the shift. I still have to tame the inventory.”

“That doesn't sound like hanky-panky later.”

Despite the sour mood wanting to take over, he smiled at Mia. “Because it's not. My to-do list for this place gets longer every day.”

She dropped her gaze. “But your time here is almost done. So...”

Ask, you stubborn woman.

Instead she sighed. “I guess I'll get to work since you're not trying to talk me into getting naked.”

Either the Baird had gone deaf and dumb or he was used to a couple or two sneaking away into a closet to “straighten up” but leaving with their clothes disheveled, wearing smirks. “It's your fault. You're not wearing your boots.”

“Oh, you like them now?”

“Your boots mean a sundress and no underwear. I adore them, and I...” Kincaid shook the dangerous thought from his head. “Later then, lass?”

She inched forward back into his space. “I hate the idea of driving all the way back to the cottage. Can we do the B&B?”

“We can stay in Glasgow.”

Mia narrowed her gaze. “Kin—Never mind. Later.”

He dug his nails into his palms to keep from grabbing her, dragging her to office—that room had a lock—and talking. Or not talking. Either way they'd...he could ignore what came next, and Mia would let him.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and took in the inventory room. Between the renovations and staying on top of the most urgent matters, there was a backlog of duties. Diving into them could only delay the dark thoughts swimming in his mind, but he had a future ahead of him. One that wouldn't be filled with violence no matter the noble reasons. Work, the best antidote to sorrow, would have to wait. He had an appointment with his new life ahead.

Hours later and back in the inventory room, the hairs on Kincaid’s nape rose. He stilled the broom he’d been using to clean up broken glass. The smell of vodka filled the air, but he caught a hint of a musky aftershave. Glancing behind him, he sighed. “What do you want Baird?”

Douglass shoved his hands in his pocket, his gaze roaming the room. Kincaid had set up the storage cabinets. They—Douglass – now had cheap index cards showing the liquor's price, units and date of purchase. It would make everyone's life somewhat easier after he'd gone, and it kept his mind from churning through all the things left unsaid.

“Nice work, as always.”

Kincaid knew that cautious tone. The Baird wanted something. “And?”

Douglass “Where’s Mia?”

“You didn't see her in the pub?”

Douglass raised his brow. “Guess not. Then again, I was resting my eyes before I sought you out, and she...can get lost in a crowd very well.”

Douglass seemed to find every wound with salt at the ready. “What did you want?”

The older man strolled to stack of whisky Kincaid had yet to unbox. “Callan and Victoria will be home in a few days. Have you decided what you’re going to do? I can't imagine you and Mia sharing the couch.”

“I have some plans in the works. No need to worry about me staying so long you get a dent in your cushions.”

Douglass's slow nod ended with smile. “Mia's always welcome.”

“Aye, right, I have no doubt of that, you masher.”

The Baird loped forward and peered into an empty box. An excuse, Kincaid was sure, for Douglass to cross his arms and hold a thousand-yard stare. “I didn’t realize how much I needed more help on hand. There are a lot of things I’ve put off. The renovation in the main pub was one. There was no way I could have done it without you.”

Kincaid dropped the broom against the cabinet corner and returned the stare. “What are you working up to?”

The Baird lifted his chin. “Understand this is not a favor or me meddling.”

“Bollocks.”

A smile broke out. “It’s a little meddling, but I do need the help. I should be retiring, and I think I’m finally ready. My boys have no interest in the pub. Were I to ask them, they’d hire someone off the street that would probably turn my place into a franchise.”

His heart banged against his ribcage. Life rushed at him so fast he almost bent over to put his head between his knees. He swallowed to keep his voice steady enough to say, “Are you asking me to take over the pub?”

“After five minutes of your grouching at me when we first met, I knew you could take care of my home.” He gave the room another look, his smile turning bittersweet. “This has been my place for over thirty years. I started it after my wife left for good. I wanted to be close to home for the boys. I was never suited for a nine-to-five.”

He was taken aback. “I don’t know anything—”

“Don’t try that lie out on me, laddie,” Baird's tone turned droll. “You’ve been here for two months and you’ve picked up on a lot. You’re a grump, but smart and dedicated. I’ll still be around, and you’ve got someone who can charm her arse off.”

“Mia isn’t—”

“If she’s not in your life then you’re as daft as you look.”

He laughed at the insult. “Mia staying is not something I can control.”

Douglass glanced down. “I’ve been in your place, laddie. You can’t make a woman stay if her heart is set on leaving, but you’ll regret having never asked her to stay.”

Kincaid knew the advice the Baird gave came from experience, not some self-righteous point of view. The Baird had also turned into a cad after his wife left him and his sons. That could either mean the man had closed off his heart or he hadn't found anyone worth the trouble.

But did he really want to talk about his Mia problem, ever? “I will think about your offer, for the pub and the pub only.”

“Stubborn arse.”

Kincaid laughed. “What’s that childhood saying? It takes one to know one.”

“Aye. When you’re done in here, come help me man the bar.”

The offer hit him differently for the first time. “Still not doing it, and the first thing I’ll do is hire someone to tend it.”

“Wuss.”

“Curmudgeon.”

Six months ago, he couldn’t have known this would be his life. He didn’t regret what had gotten him here. He could run a pub, build his distillery on site and live a life he’d come to love.

But what of Mia?

Baird, as always, was ahead of him. “Clock out. Go celebrate with your lassie.”

“I already had plans to.”

“Did you, now?” Baird tilted his head and squinted at him. “What did you do?”

Kincaid only grinned in answer.

Mia put her fingers up to the scarf covering her eyes. “I really must trust you.”

“Shhh. Listen lassie. You might know where I've taken you just by sound.”

Mia leaned back and there was Kincaid's to wrap his arms around her. The flirting started as he helped her behind the bar, mostly cleaning glasses. He hit her with a surprise when he didn't take the route to the cottage, but deeper into Glasgow. As many weeks as they had worked in the Green Palace, he hadn't taken her on a tour. He more than made up for it, dropping by a place still open late. They put chips on their pizza and deep fried it all into a calzone. It was terrible and delicious. He made sure they took a ride over the Clyde. She ahhed at the red brick buildings, the quiet and quaint haven that looked ripped from pictures. Flower pots hung along the trim in an aged and ancient little corner of the city. He promised to take her down the River Kelvin during daytime. There, she could be the ultimate tourist by taking pictures in front of the overgrown ruins of the old flint mill. It was perfect.

By the time he told her to put on the scarf as a blindfold, the morning light had started to sneak up behind the dark. He'd led her out of the car and now they stood on a street. It was quiet enough she could hear people waking up, opening and closing their car doors, likely headed to work. The air smelled crisp from the morning's cold, a bit like wet peat and stone. Salt from the sea permeated every inch of it.

“What's next?” she asked.

“At least five steps. You can walk it up or I can carry you to the stoop.”

“That last is probably best.”

“Aye, right. Ready?”

“Yup.” She still laughed when she went weightless then oomph because he'd picked her up in a fireman's hold. “I'm going to kill you.” Her words were muffled by his back.

“You won't.”

The sound of keys jingling made her perk up. “Why are we back at Baird's? Why would you make me wear a blindfold for Baird's place?”

“Maybe because it's not Baird's.”

In a second flat she was on her feet then the blindfold lifted. She lost her breath at the sight that greeted her. From the door she caught a glimpse of the river Clyde, and the lights of the city were slowly dimming in the wake of the morning. That was more than enough, but he'd had a hand in decorating. The linen arm chair and couch were a dark khaki. A light tan area rug complimented the glass coffee table. Two dark green candles worked as a bookend. He probably hadn't noticed, but he'd used camo as his color guide. That was so Kincaid.

“I love it.” She faced him. “It looks warm and cozy and so you.”

“I'm warm and cozy? Bollocks.”

“You're a teddy bear. My Scottish bear.”

She went up on her tiptoes. He met her halfway to plant a kiss. She hummed then settled on her heels. “Please tell me there's something to eat here.”

“It needs to be cooked, but I have a steak or two thawing.”

“Perfect. How do you like your steak?”

“Medium rare. Just wait a minute.” His brow went up. “You're cooking?”

“Seems right.”

His other brow went up. “You just want to be nosy and look in the cabinets.”

“I can multitask.”

“Then may I request sautéed tatties with caramelized onions?”

“You may.”

“So the lass can cook.”

“I didn't see the point of treading over territory you had marked. I'd wash and you'd cook.”

“Then I guess I'll be on dish duty. There's an apron in the pantry.”

“No, I will not just wear the apron.”

He tutted. “You can read minds now. I am so fucked when it comes to you.”

But not for long. Tonight, all of it, was a goodbye.

As promised, she nosed around his small kitchen. Every minute he'd spent away from her added up as she pulled out every new or new-to-him item to cook. She had wondered but didn't feel she had the right to ask. She went off, too, when she didn't have a shift to work, but a lot of that was getting lost in crowds, heading to the nearest live venue and talking Kincaid's ear off on the ride back to Inverness. Had it left a hollow in her gut to not know where he disappeared to? Yes. How could it not? Did her heart warm knowing he'd been making a home? Shit, yes, way too much.

She stole a glance at him reading at the table. The cover gave her pause. “Did you steal that one from the bathroom?”

“Aye.”

It was one of the racier books Victoria had in the bathroom. “I'm not sure you're ready for that one, 'Caid.”

“The hero's obviously a dobber, but he gets high marks for the creative sex.”

She laughed and almost said she loved him. Not while the very thought of telling him I love you made her heart want to tear itself from her chest and make a run for it. Or maybe it was her head that wanted to do that. Either way, she focused on the food. The oil sounded like a soft rainy night. Quickly checking on the potatoes, she felt comfortable getting the steaks ready.

“The Baird looked very pleased after talking with you,” she said instead.

“He offered me the pub.”

Her mouth dropped and she turned to gape at him. “He what?”

“He wants to give me the Drunken Barrel.”

“What?”

He dog-earned the page like a heathen and leaned back. “Don't burn the steaks.”

Mia checked. “The steaks are fine. What did you say to his offer?”

“It's a weighty offer, but given what I want, it's a smart move. I can brew, and it won't take much to get all the licenses to become a distillery with the current ones he already has.”

She thought of the man she'd gotten to know over the last few weeks. Smart and shrewd, if Kincaid hadn't agreed on the spot, he would eventually. He'd also do it because he'd come to care for the Baird. By the second, his new life dug in around him, sprouting roots and searching for more light.

What would she have once she left?

“You're frowning,” he said.

“You can't even see my face.” She flipped the steaks, counted out the seconds until she was sure both pieces of meat would be perfectly cooked. Her next breath he stood at her back, his fingers closed around her shoulders.

“You're burning the steaks.”

She quickly rescued them. On his plate, she added the potatoes. Instead of going back to the table, he leaned against the counter, so close to her she could pick up the scent of his aftershave over the onions. She followed his lead, standing shoulder to shoulder.

“We're staying the night?”

He finished chewing before answering, “My plan for the day is to have you in every nook and corner.”

She choked hard and long enough he had time to rub her back. “What?” her voice came out high and thready.

“Of course, I would require your consent.”

With fresh eyes she took in his new home. “We'd have a lot of ground to cover. Aren't you tired? We've been up all night.”

“Are you?”

Surprisingly, no. She never felt more wide awake. “Can I finish eating before we get started in here?”

“I was going to ask the same. You are an incredible cook.”

What did it mean she wanted to jump him right then and there? As always, nothing good, but she ploughed through her plate to get to dessert faster. And because it was Kincaid, he was miles ahead of her. Half his potatoes were already gone.

Things to add to her Welp-Now-I-Know mental list, wooden floors could peel off skin, especially if one were using certain body parts as leverage for sex. Her knees would at some point make a shank and cut her soul out, but for now she rested her head against Kincaid's collarbone, her legs useless—her entire body really. He wore a smirk, his fingers dancing up her spine. All he needed was a cigar to complete the picture of satisfied sexed-up male. It was a wonderful picture.

“Are we done yet?” she asked, both exhausted and still hopeful for more.

He tilted his head up. The bedroom lay about three feet away. The hallway wall had tripped them up before they could make it. “Are you tapping out, lass? You talked such a big game in the kitchen.”

And living room, bathroom and hallway. Here she thought his place was cozy and small. “I didn't just talk a big game. I had a full stomach of calories to burn through.”

“Excuses.”

“I don't see you moving.”

“Why would I? You're soft, warm...wet. I wouldn't move to save the queen right now.”

“We both know she could probably kick everyone's ass.”

When he didn't reply, she glanced at him. His eyes were closed but the smirk remained.

“What?” she asked.

“I don't think we're going to make it to work. There's a shower and toilet right next to the bedroom. Emphasis on shower. It can fit three, at least.”

She stretched to kiss the side of the smirk. “Then what are we waiting for?”

He cracked open an eye. “Can't feel my legs. Give me about ten minutes.”

“Such a charmer. What shall we do while I wait for you?”

“Whatever you like.”

“I need a glass of water before I can do anything filthy to you.”

He only grunted. “Then let's nap.”

No matter how fun and comfortable the sex-morning had been, the time was ticking between them. He was moving forward, and she would just be moving. She could put him on a list to visit again within the next few months. At what point would he ask her to stop? He'd work in a pub. The choices to take someone home to keep him warm would be legion.

“I can feel each of your muscles tensing again. What are you thinking?”

She'd rather trip off the nearest cliff before giving him that answer. “What were you doing this time last year?”

His chuckle cut through her rising anxiety. “Mia Jones, you are always a wonder.” He opened both eyes to frown at her. “I don't know. It's all a blur at this point. I was either jumping off a plane, climbing up the side of a boat, submerged in water—”

“While looking like a badass. It's the chin. It's so chiseled you could cut through diamonds without trying hard.”

His gaze darkened. “My job was to be invisible to an enemy and do what was needed. That means I can speak several languages, remain sane under torture, survive if you dropped me bare-assed in a jungle and kill someone while looking into their eyes. What I did wasn't a game. It was life and death.”

Mia was awed. She kissed him again.

He pulled back. “My life was also watching milk sops on the military's telly giving updates about drug busts and new ships, mostly named Queen Elizabeth. It wasn't all good or bad, it was. What I want now more than anything is to squeeze your arse, flirt with you, fuck you and worry about my siblings getting in over their heads.”

“Are you mad at me for asking?”

“More surprised it's taken you this long, but you would ask at this opportune moment.”

She slapped his chest. “That sounds like an insult.”

The darkness hadn't lifted from his gaze but the smile seemed genuine. “Big talk from a wee lass.”

“You weren't saying that ten minutes ago.”

“You weren't pressed against my dick asking me about the military.”

She tried on the accent she'd been practicing when alone. “Don't be such a Jessie.”

“I can feel my knees again, and payback is clear in my mind.”

“I'll believe it when I see it.”

She let out a whoop when he rolled her under him, shifted then lifted her up. She threw her arms around his neck to feel more secure in the hold. He was gentle when he dropped her on the bed. Naked, he pulled away, but stopped long enough to kiss her.

“Water,” he said then disappeared into the hallway.

She flopped back onto the bed, a smile fighting its way out. She smelled him before the glass crossed her view. “You need to whistle to make some kind of noise when you walk.” He pressed his lips together and whistled. She recognized the notes immediately. “Gumball?”

“The most annoying show, but it's mindless and soothing.” He offered the water again. “I need to dig out more condoms.”

She sat up to drink and to watch his ass. His ankles rose up to taut calves, thick thighs and an ass she could write odes about. The faint dusting of hair disappeared right at the vee of his pelvis. An inch above that was a tattoo—a compass.

He glanced at her then smiled. “Like the view?”

“Breathtaking.”

He rummaged in the top drawer of a dresser. Leaving it open he strolled back to her. She scooted up the bed to give him room, but he bent down, catching her bottom lip with his teeth. The zing of sensation that punched through her forced a gasp from her mouth. Why wasn't she numb yet?

But already her clit was swelling again, aroused and ready for his fingers, his mouth—both at the same time. Her pussy clenched remembering every second they'd shared. He climbed onto the bed, trapping her between his thighs, his dick pressed between her tits and belly button. Wet. Already. For her.

She closed her hand around the tip of his cock and squeezed the way that made him moan every time. Wetter. He stopped teasing her and gave her tongue. Good god was she melting into his new comforter?

The amazing thing is he kissed her like this always. No matter if he had her stomach flat against a wall, taking her from behind or rocking into her slow enough to kill any brain cell, Kincaid kissed her like it would be his last time and he damn sure was going to make it count. To think she used to be fine with okay. If her heart didn't pound like it was trying to escape her chest when a man put his mouth near hers, she didn't want the kiss.

He stopped long enough to take the cup out of her hand then he was pushing her into the mattress, using his five o'clock shadow to brand her skin with his. Teeth and tongue along her nipples, her stomach. She closed her hand in his locks, holding her breath as he rode down the slope of her body to settle his broad shoulders between her legs.

Mia was practically coming already just at him breathing her in. She knew what came next—oblivion. She cried out the moment his hot, velvet tongue flicked her clit. She shuddered at the suck. She gave in completely, letting the trembling take over, the heat engulfing her. She felt craven. His tongue inside her, his mouth covering her folds...needing him slow, hard, and hers. They'd had sex too many times for her to hold out. Another slow lick, a suck, and oblivion blinded her as she slipped into the orgasm without warning.

A laugh bubbled out once she caught her breath. “I can't feel my legs.”

“Are you sure?” He kissed the left one. “Did you feel that?”

“Try higher.”

“Again?”

“Above the waist for a few minutes otherwise I might levitate off the bed.” She paused. “If I start singing Under Your Spell would you still like me in the morning?”

“Let's see.” He straightened, stretched and rolled his neck. A brow rose when he looked between her legs. He slipped a finger into her pussy. “Can you feel me inside, lass?”

She pulled her legs up and rolled to her side. “I will never—I can never watch that episode again. Bastard.”

He plopped behind her. “Mission accomplished. James Marsters should be hanged for his accent.”

She turned to face him. His lids were heavy, his face flushed and...yeah, he was still very aroused. She tried to think back through the morning. Had he come? She vaguely remembered his shout in the kitchen, but other than that? He decimated her and then did away with the condom. Not only was that not right, it simply wasn't fair. If her brain had to be scrambled with lust and orgasms, so should his.

She rose. When he went to do the same, she pushed his chest. “My turn.”

“You want one? I thought it was my job to do all the mind-blowing.”

“'Caid.”

He laughed, tucking his hands behind his head. “Carry on.”

“Now I don't want to.”

“You do. You keep nibbling on your bottom lip. It's a maddening turn on for me. Consider yourself lucky that I'm not jumping you.”

“'Caid!”

“Aye?”

“Shhh.”

He brought back the smirk.

“Just remember you asked for this.”

“For what?”

She kissed one of his abs. He hissed, closing his eyes. He muttered a fuck when she brushed her mouth along his pelvis bone. “You were saying?” she asked.

“Nothing. Absolutely, fucking nothing.”

His dick rested against his thigh. Slowly, she traced her tongue around the hard length. The next hiss lasted longer. She started to scoot down, but he closed a hand on her ankle. She looked up. His lids were so low she didn't think his eyes were open.

“Easy way to keep me quiet.”

“How?”

“You can sit on my mouth. It's sweet, tangy....my fav.”

Like he had called her pussy by name, her sex quivered.

“Aye, lass. Let me lick up all the cream I left behind.”

“Tempting offer.”

Very.

But if she let him put his mouth on her, she'd forget everything. She wanted this, him in her mouth, so she placed a kiss on the tip. He cussed again, and she sucked the tip in. His stomach muscles flexed, and his thighs lifted an inch.

She gave the head a tongue kiss then took all of him she could. Covering the exposed skin with her hand, she sucked until the tip popped out with a wet noise. That's how she made him crawl up the bed, his jaw tight and his gaze fixed on her mouth. It was a beautiful sight to see her Scot lose his iron-tight control. For him to let her undo him.

Mia lost track of time, but more than once he'd balled his hand in her hair to stop her from making him come. Each time he held her gaze, a fierce expression, but his hazel eyes filled with desire. That last was undoing her. It's why she didn't complain when he had had enough.

Kincaid pulled her up his body, held her still with one arm tight around her waist and then he kissed her face off. When that wasn't enough he found a condom. Before she could ask for it, he slammed into her hard, fast, fucking them both until sweat dripped from his body onto her.

Mad with lust, him, she licked his chest. He tasted of sweat and sex, and she moaned not having known how delicious that could be. She squeezed her inner muscles, allowing his cock to rub against all the right places inside her.

This time when she came, a cry rushing through her lungs, he fell right along with her. And because he was her Scottish bear, he sought her mouth and kissed her like it would be the last time.