Kincaid glanced at the Baird and mimicked the older man’s stance before pulling a draft.

“You kind of suck at this,” Grant said. His brother stood on the other side of him, frowning at the pint and being useless like he had been for days.

“Don’t you run a company? Can’t you go do that instead of critiquing my every action?”

“I told you.” His brother’s gaze shifted. “I took a leave.”

Which sounded full of fucking lies. His brother didn’t take a holiday. Aye, Grant knew how to relax and have fun, but he didn’t take days off from work. His brother had had food poisoning a few months back, and he worked from his porcelain throne.

Since Kincaid knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer about that, he tried a different approach. “How long is the leave?”

“Has Mia emailed you back?”

That confession had escaped after another round of testing his brew.

“I’m giving her time. Let it drop.” He offered a stiff smile to the patron. Another walked up and asked for a pint. He took up the same stance and concentrated. Or tried to because…

“You might wait so long she forgets why she ever liked you.”

His fist tightened on the glass as the words picked at the wound she’d left behind. “If that’s the case, then maybe she doesn’t love me.”

He spoke his deepest fear. Her ‘wait’ had really meant ‘never’. While Kincaid was neck deep. Every day that passed without her only solidified what he felt for her, and it was real. His emotions weren’t stirred because he was finally home again or that he had found a purpose.

He wanted to spend the rest of his days with Mia because she surprised him, challenged him to dig deeper, and laughed without reservation. Love—no, the truth that loving the wrong person could destroy her, scared her blind. That didn't stop her, most of the time, from living with an insatiable ambition to run headlong into life. He could only hope she'd decide to love the same way. He slid his gaze to Grant who had raised a brow in the silence. He'd rather get stabbed with an ice pick than give his brother that ammunition while the Baird pretended to not listen in. The man had the hearing of a newborn unwilling to stay asleep.

He squinted at his brother, since the likelihood of Grant and the Baird teaming up was as sure as the sun rising. “Tell me, Grant.”

“Aye?”

“Has he done anything, said anything else about her when I'm not around?” Kincaid asked and waited for his brother's tells.

Like clockwork, Grant tugged his ear then shrugged. “All he has done is fuss over Victoria.”

A likely truth in a bed of lies. The Victoria he'd met didn't shy away from taking control of a situation and hadn't met a lull in conversation she didn't want to fill. Her lovesick husband sat back and beamed as though that was his favorite thing about her. “Why is he fussing over Victoria?”

“She's pregnant again.”

He'd had the couple over for dinner and hadn't known that, but when he thought back, she had forgone drink. He'd chalked it up to her being the main caregiver to the young toddler tearing up his place. His brother hadn't assumed. Grant had secured the details. “What are you doing when I'm not around?”

Back to shifty eyes. “Pay attention to the customers. Many at the front are looking for pitchforks.”

On reflex he took stock of the room. His brother was right. Kincaid picked up the pace. His brother did the same, and yet somehow he seemed much more natural at calming the short tempers at the long wait. A man like that wouldn't take leave. He weighed the potential headache if he kept digging to get his brother to spill the beans and...he didn't mind taking on the responsibility.

Kincaid grinned.

“What?” Grant asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I'm going to call Isla and let her know you've taken a leave from work.”

“And?” Grant challenged.

“Then the rest of them, one by one. I shall convey my worry about you. I wonder how long it would take them to descend on you.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Dare me, brother.”

Grant's gaze took measure of him. “You wouldn't because they haven't had the opportunity to see you since you first got home.”

“Let them come then we'll see.”

“Fucker.”

“Bawbag.”

“I'll call them right now.”

Instead of answering, Kincaid placed the pint in front of the customer. He wiped his hands on the towel tucked into his apron. Aye, he was finally behind the bar, serving the people, and hating it like the undercover grump he was. “I thought about how I wanted my life from here on out. It starts with you crawling out of my arse. Our siblings will do that.”

“We all can’t have lofty goals.”

He huffed. “Go bus a table. You’re in my way and distracting me. I’m supposed to smile and be witty for tips.”

Grant glanced at the line of people crowding the counter. “Cheers.”

“Ta.” Kincaid laughed and waved his brother off. For the first time in a long time he felt light.

A commotion at the door drew his attention. The closest patrons surged into a semi-circle around the entrance. A fist being slammed against the bar’s top snapped his focus.

“A pint. Doesn’t matter what.”

“Right up.”

He went through the steps of pulling a draft.

A wild thought snatched the breath out of his lungs. He glanced at the Baird. The man stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a wide grin.

Kincaid breathed, “What did you do?”

Somehow, the Baird’s grin widened. “We were short two barmaids, and you suck at this. I’ve gotten nothing but complaints for the past two days.”

“Complaints you didn’t relay to me so I could fix it.”

“I fixed it. You’re welcome.”

Kincaid put the drink in front of the customer and let out of the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t want to move. He wasn’t sure if he could.

Mia.

He’d dreamed about this in quiet lonely moments. He wouldn’t have to email her. Or find an excuse to phone her. Mia would find her way back to him. The crowd parted. She was hugging an older black woman who looked familiar. Mia's eyes were closed as they did a soft side-to-side rock. The way the people smiled at her, happy to see her again, let Kincaid know he hadn’t gone off his nut. Mia was unforgettable.

So he waited until her gaze clashed with his. “M,” he said and the way she smiled let him know she'd heard him even across the room, above the crowd.

She ignored the rest of the waiting welcome party, elbowed her way to the front, to him.

“’Caid.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “It’s good to see you.”

What he wanted to do was vault over the counter, kiss her, touch her, make sure she was real. “Why are you here?” he asked. Because what he wanted more was to hear her say she missed him, wanted him too. He couldn’t take the first step again.

“The Baird called me with some bullshit excuse about needing a barmaid.”

He narrowed his gaze. “That’s true enough. Davina left and we haven’t found someone to replace her.”

“Oh,” she blinked, breaking their gaze. “Um, well, I...”

“What?” he pushed, his heart wrenching.

She lifted her chin. “He gave me a reason to come back to Scotland. To you, home.”

The last word hit him square in the chest and he couldn't breathe for a moment. “That's all?”

She laughed then shook her head. “You are giving me the grump, Scot Bear.”

“Aye. I've been without my woman for a little over a week.”

“I'm yours?”

“If you want to be.”

She dropped her gaze but he could still see the smile. “Well, I guess it's a good thing I’m falling in love with you. Started around the time you gave my hand that geriatric Casanova kiss. You made it hard to breathe, to think, but it wasn’t until I was home that I realized it wasn’t home anymore.”

“Did you now?”

“I left London after only three days. I—” She shook her head again, like the words didn't matter, but they did. Every one. “'Caid?”

“Aye?” She'd jumped on a plane from California to get back to him.

“I’ve been miserable without you.”

“But the job the Baird offered—”

“I don’t care about the job. I’m not here for the job, you stubborn Scot.”

“I’m the stubborn one? Who walked despite the obvious?”

She leaned on the bar, her gaze steady and serious. “I walked because I was scared. I’m still scared that if or when I really need you my heart will be wrong. You won’t stay.”

“Mia,” he said softly. “If—”

“But I came anyway. I want you to be my next adventure. I want to climb Kincaid Mountain, the best place in Scotland. I want to binge-watch every episode or movie of Sherlock. I want to explore every nook and corner. Be my home and my greatest adventure.”

Kincaid finally smiled then laughed. “There's my Mia. There’s the woman I’ve fallen in love with. Mia Jones, I love you.”

She reached forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him forward. “Then maybe I'm a little past falling for you. Maybe. I am a fangirl after all. Moriarty could walk in...”

“Aye. I think it was that line that made me fall. Hop over this bar and kiss me.”

She jumped at him and he caught her, pulled her in close to him.

Mia wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him just as tight then whispered in his ear, “Welcome home, ‘Caid.”

That was all he needed to hear. “Welcome home, M.”