Kincaid pulled off the work gloves and shoved a hand through his hair. He hadn’t cut it since coming to Scotland and the strands were getting unruly. Funny, he was starting to feel the same.

Two more weeks. That’s all he had to live through with the Baird. Callan and Victoria would be back. They were the Baird’s main caretakers. They both loved the man and loved watching over him.

And Kincaid would...go back to London? Sleeping on his brother’s couch until he found something that interested him. Aye, right, back to practically climbing the walls. Back to grinding his teeth in his sleep when he did catch some. Kincaid rolled his shoulders.

“Laddie,” came Douglass’s voice from the end of the hallway.

The man had only been gone two minutes, and he was back to drive Kincaid off his nut. “What now, you curmudgeon?”

“You might want to come into the pub.”

“Why?” Kincaid yelled.

Nothing.

Kincaid leaned back until he could peek out the door. Douglass had gone. A roar went up over the telly, and he knew there wasn’t a game on yet. Curious, he stuffed his gloves in his back pocket, making his way into the main room in the pub.

Kincaid rounded the corner. The weight of reality slammed into his chest. His feet refused to move another inch. There, sitting on the bar, facing the room, was Mia.

How did she look better? His ability to recall minute details were honed in the military, but two months had gone by since he'd seen her in the flesh. He must have forgotten how her full mouth curved in a crooked smile. He'd somehow lost the way her tawny eyes could soften when she saw someone she liked. The only thing he could remember all too well was the way she smelled of citrus, and that made him die a little wanting to know her scent after sex.

For once though the details didn't matter. Mia was here, and if there was a god, she was his for the taking.

She held up a shot glass as though toasting the room then tipped it back into her mouth. His daft heart flipped. They barely knew each other. She probably went to far off places to visit strangers all the time. Her being in Douglass’s pub to see him meant nothing. Less than nothing. She was here to see Scotland, he just happened to reside there, and he’d made it clear he wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

But he couldn’t help but feel like trouble had walked into the pub and was here for him.

Mia downed the second shot of whiskey to bury the knot forming from fear and uncertainty. Kincaid was fighting his way through the thick crowd.

She'd gone from Canada and made it as far as Ireland before the wtf-itis took hold again. She hadn't wanted to tell him of her proximity in their email exchanges. She roamed a few days around ruined castles, people with soft lilts to their words and scrounged up enough courage to make it to the Drunken Barrel's front doors.

She’d walked in despite herself and made a beeline to the bar for a drink. Fighting all that inner waffling over ponds and continents required some kind of celebration. More even as Kincaid moved closer.

Mia turned her head to glance at the Baird. “I think I’m going to need another shot. He looks—”

The older man pffted. “He always looks like that unless he’s emailing you. Then maybe he cracks a smile.”

Very interesting. “Are you supposed to be telling me this?”

The Baird’s blue gray eyes twinkled. “Aye.”

Yeah. She loved this man already. “Liar.”

He laughed and plunked down the glass. “Cheers, lassie.”

The liquor burned hot down her throat, but the liquid courage kept her heart from racing as Kincaid stood five feet away, four feet... Then he was standing in front of her. No smile. Just his gaze, serious and intent on her face. Where was the man who laughed with his head thrown back? This man looked pissed about being alive. Thankfully, he had that expression before he saw her on the bar. She wouldn’t think too hard about the fact it hadn’t lifted when he’d caught her gaze.

“No costume?” he asked.

“Showing up in Scotland as Sherlock seemed a bit too meta even for me.”

There. That was the smile she’d hoped to see. Too bad it only flashed before he wrapped his hands around her waist to pick her up and off the bar. Her front collided with his as he set her down. She forgotten how tall and bulky he was. And, yeah, there went her breathing.

“Last I checked,” he said, “Scotland and Canada had an ocean between them.”

And an ocean’s worth of nail biting and wondering what the hell had gotten into her.

Mia's stomach churned. “Everyone was so nice in Canada. I needed someone I could find some mischief with.”

“Aye, and you thought of me?”

Too often. “Actually, I’m here for the Baird.”

“Him.” His mouth flattened, and his nostrils flared.

She had to swallow down the laugh at his vehemence. It spoke a world of frustration. “I just emailed you and everything was fine. What happened?”

He glared behind the bar at the man. “He likes to fix things, and he has it in his head I need some fixing.”

“He’s trying to Mary Poppins your life?”

“Aye.”

Kincaid looked so put out, she had to curl her lips and bite down.

“It’s not funny,” he said.

“Hmmm.”

“It’s not,” he said then chuckled. “Grab a booth, if you can. If not, look at the Baird like a damsel and he’ll free up a stool at the bar. I need to wash up.”

“That’s all I have to do, and you’re annoyed with the man? I think I’m in love.”

He shook his head. “Booth then. I think I need to keep you guys away from each other.”

“Spoilsport.”

He left her then to her own devices. She finally breathed normally. The back wall, where he’d come from, was the only free space. Still, once she settled in she could watch at least two TVs. A rugby game was just starting. She was alone for two point five seconds before the Baird slid in on the opposite side of the booth.

This close, and under this light, she could see the picture hadn’t done him justice. The laugh lines etched around his eyes and mouth were the only sign of his age. He was solidly built from head to toe. Though there was a spark of trouble in his eyes, they’d also seen a lot of life.

He offered his hand. “Douglass Baird.”

She took the hand and shook like her mother had taught her to do when a man was testing her mettle. Surprise lit first in his eyes and then a smile blossomed.

“What brings you to Glasgow?”

“This is a pit stop,” she told the truth. Or half of it anyway. “I flew into Dublin and made my way down. Scotland is the pit stop before I hit London.”

Also a half-truth. In case her reception at dropping in without a head's up was what the fuck?, Mia had set up in a contingency plan to save face.

“Aye, right,” he said, and could probably see straight through her bullshit answer. “I only want to know one thing. Or rather, I only have one request. He’s not mine, but I’m looking out for him like he is. What the laddie needs is fun.”

That, she hadn’t expected. “You look like a cad, you talk like a cad, but you’re a softie.”

Douglass flushed. “I should get back behind the bar. If you need anything, just ask. Your drinks for the night or however long you plan to stay are on me.”

“And if you need any help behind the bar, holler for me.”

“You know a thing or two about tending bar?”

“Or four. I have a friend who is a bartender. She has taught me everything I know.”

“You’re a keeper.”

Baird opened his mouth to say something else, but like some stealth sleeper agent, Kincaid broke through the crowd and stood near the table. His form of cleaning up involved tossing water on his face and hair. The strands looked more black than auburn and were slicked back. The ends curled around his neck. He’d also changed clothes. He now wore unripped and unstained jeans and a white shirt. His black boots had seen better days, but altogether—yeah, she was having trouble breathing again.

He took one look at the Baird and muttered, “Get lost. I don’t need you flirting with her.”

“Territorial, I see,” Douglass said with a grin.

The Baird winked at her and melted into the crowd. Kincaid slid into the opposite side of the booth, resting his palms flat against the table.

That right there was the difference. This Kincaid was contained. The one she’d met at the convention had readily jumped into her scheme to get her shit back from the hotel room. She wasn’t sure if she could talk this Kincaid into walking her to the pub’s door. Maybe the liquor had loosened him up.

It made her sad. She wanted to find and break out the other Kincaid so they could have fun and play. “For your information, he wasn’t flirting with me. I’m kind of disappointed.”

His mouth twitched. “Give it a few hours after things have calmed down here.”

“You help behind the bar?”

“Never. He was going to talk me into it today.”

“Then I showed up.”

“You did.”

She couldn’t tell how he felt about her sudden appearance from the way he said it. Heat rose to her face. She was, kind of—a lot of—unrepentantly impulsive. She never felt a rush of shame if she read a situation wrong. Communication was complicated, and it varied from person to person. Maybe he'd been joking about wanting to see her.

Oh, my God.

She had to save face. Right this second. “The more I thought about your invitation the more I realized what an opportunity it would be to visit. The UK,” she added quickly. “The UK was on my list to visit. It had been number one, but it was the dead of winter when I thought about going.”

“Where’d you go instead?”

“Australia.”

His mouth twitched again. “I would apologize for the weather and let you know you should have come last Thursday.”

“What was last Thursday?”

“Nothing, but the sun was out, and it didn’t rain until nightfall.”

“It was actually sunny in Dublin yesterday, so I’ll take what I’m offered weather-wise and not make any bones about it.”

He curled his hands into fists and then relaxed them flat on the table again. “What did you have in mind to see while you were in Scotland.”

You. That was the unvarnished truth. But she’d told the lie, and she was going to run with it. “The Highlands. The Outlander TV show has people in love with the Highlands.”

Too much bullshit. She knew the moment the words left her mouth, and it was confirmed when his brows slashed down and so did his mouth.

“Anyway,” she hurriedly added, “I’m armed to the teeth with my cameras and recording equipment.”

“You brought your recording equipment?”

“For the podcast. There's a lot that happens behind the scenes.”

“Like what? All I know is I enjoyed it when I listened. I also got to know you a little bit from them.”

She was going to be the first person to die from blushing. All that blood rushing to her face had to kill her eventually. “I like to interview people. It’s one thing to visit a place. It’s another to really get the feel of it. A lot of the people who listen in are looking for places to travel and some want to move. I try to give the behind the scenes kind of feel to the place.”

“I like that,” he said simply.

She relaxed a little. “When I first wanted to travel, I looked at everywhere as a possibility, and there were too many choices if you just went by what looked good when you checked out the official website.”

“So other than our dismal weather, what made you choose Australia first?”

“I had just watched Finding Nemo.”

He threw his head back and laughed. There he was. That’s the Kincaid that had her just a little bit smitten, enough she’d tweaked her traveling plans to include him as a pit stop.

“Finding Nemo?” he asked and then laughed more.

His laughter was the most delicious sound she’d ever heard. She wanted to eat it, take it in and let his laugh fill her from the inside out.

“You know how Pixar is. They visit a place and then get it right, down to every detail. They made the barrier reef look so beautiful and inviting.”

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

“It was better. I stayed out of the Outback and visited as many towns as I could along the coast. I found some great hidden treasures.”

Someone bumped into their booth. She blinked. Baird's Drunken Barrel was a pretty big place for a pub and clean, and still the crowd had grown in size, taking up any spare room left. Crazier than that, it was a Tuesday night.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

She brought her attention back to him. “A B & B a few blocks from here.”

He looked down at his hands then balled them again. “How about you save your money and check out Inverness with me?”

“Stay in Inverness with you?”

“Aye.”

He didn’t tack on an explanation or give her any reassurance he was just being kind. “Does that mean you are actually quite happy to see me?”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “I’m still on the fence. You could be a serial killer or a con woman.”

“Or a total loafer,” she added for him.

He snorted. “How about it, lass? Tomorrow I can show you some of my favorite places in Scotland.”

She met his gaze and tried to breathe like she normally would, but Mia doubted she could. She hadn’t been herself since she’d met him. There was just something about Kincaid that drew her in and made her forget all the reasons why she'd avoided anything serious for the past year.

But she’d come to see him. Not to stay. She had her life and loved it, but at the moment he seemed like an adventure waiting to happen and she’d stopped saying no to them. If things went south she could leave and leave him behind. She had that safety net, and someone would have to pry it from her cold dead fingers.

It was safe to be here with him, like this. She pushed out a breath, letting go of the tension riding up her neck. “I would love to go to Inverness with you.”

He smiled fully, and she gave up on trying to steady her breath.