Tucking the polo shirt into my work pants, I looked at myself for barely a second in the mirror to make sure I was neat and tidy. I hated seeing myself in the uniform. With an inward sigh, I clipped my name tag above my left breast. I was just smoothing my hair back in its long ponytail when Jim appeared in the mirror behind me.
He looped his arms around my waist and settled his chin on my shoulder to stare at me in the mirror. His hair was mussed, his cheeks stubbly, and he gave me that cute lopsided grin.
Two years ago, my infatuation for him would’ve made me lean back into him, cover his hands on my belly with my own. Yet something had changed inside of me in the three years we’d been married. Maybe changed wasn’t the right word.
Maybe the word I was looking for was realization.
“I wish ye didn’t have tae go in for another hour. I don’t start until ten this morning. You and I could get a lot done in an hour.” He squeezed me closer and gave me a wicked smile.
I was still attracted to my husband. So that was something. But it got churned up in all my other feelings, or non-feelings rather, and it made me pull out of his arms. “Sorry, can’t.”
As I walked into our small, open-plan sitting room/kitchen, I felt him following me.
“I wish tae fuck I knew what was going on yer head,” he bit out impatiently. “But I never do.”
Not wanting an argument before work, I looked over my shoulder at him as I shoved my feet into my comfortable black shoes and teased, “I thought that’s what you liked about me.”
Hurt flickered in his dark eyes before he hid it from me. “It was sexy at first. Now it’s a bad joke.”
Guilt flared across my chest in an ache, and I got defensive. “You knew who I was when you married me, Jim.”
“Aye.” He nodded, turning angry. “I just thought after three years of fucking marriage, ye’d let me in once in a while.”
I thought of last night and the way I’d let him in on our couch. I looked at it pointedly.
If anything, it made him angrier, although there was heat in his eyes too. “Oh aye, baby, ye’ll let me fuck ye anyway I want … but God forbid I try tae cuddle ye.”
We stared at each other like two opponents, wishing and wondering why we had to have this same conversation every few weeks. It felt like we’d been doing this battle for at least a year.
“Is this about college?” he snapped.
My guilt momentarily faded and was replaced by frustration. I grabbed my purse and strode toward the door. “I haven’t got time for this.”
“Well, make time.” He was fast, suddenly towering over me, his hand pressed against our front door.
“What do you want me to say?”
Jim suddenly gentled and reached out to cup my cheek. “Baby, ye know we don’t have the money for it. Tae get into school here, ye’d have tae pay for open university tae get the qualifications ye need … and ye don’t even know what ye want tae do with yer life.”
“I know I don’t want to be stacking shelves in a supermarket.” I hadn’t left the US to be right back where I’d started!
Guilt tightened his features. “Look, I’m working hard, and in a few years, I might even make gaffer. It’ll be more money, and you might not even have to work at all. We’ll have kids by then, and ye can be here with them.”
The thought made me shudder inside. “I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. Especially since it’s not about you making more money, Jim. It’s about me making more money, doing something with my life that I’m proud of, and right now, I’m not qualified to do anything.”
“I don’t look at it like ye’er putting pressure on me. I want tae give ye a good life, so ye dinnae have tae worry about working. We’re a team.”
He never heard me. As much as I tried to make him listen, he never really heard me. But I didn’t want to argue about it. “I know that.”
He looked at me warily. “Do ye?”
Two weeks later we were back to normal, sticking our heads in the sand and pretending our marriage was fine. But our marriage wasn’t fine. It was littered with broken promises.
On our wedding day, I’d promised to love and cherish my husband, believing that I did and I would.
And when he’d asked me to marry him, Jim promised that with him, I’d do and have everything I wanted. That wasn’t true. Edinburgh was expensive, and although education wasn’t as expensive as back home, it was still out of our financial reach. There were ways, but it would mean struggling along for a bit. It was possible, though. Of course, it was. But Jim didn’t support the idea, and without his support, I couldn’t do it.
I don’t know if it was childish resentment, or if the sad fact was all I’d ever felt for my husband was naïve infatuation, but one morning I woke up and realized I’d broken my promise to love him. I did love Jim … but I wasn’t in love with him. I’d married my friend, not my best friend, and as it turned out, there was a pretty damn big difference.
In truth, I knew we were heading for a collision but the thought scared me almost as much as the idea of this being my life forever. Sometimes it felt like I’d swapped countries, not situations, but that wasn’t true. At least with Jim, I had a supportive family and a group of friends who made me smile.
Despite being shocked and wary of me when I’d first arrived in Edinburgh, Jim’s mother, Angie, and his older sister, Seonaid, came to care for me. They had little choice, I suppose because, for those first few months, we lived in their cramped three-bedroom house in Sighthill. Sighthill, I discovered, was about twenty minutes west, outside of the city center.
I didn’t care for the area where Jim grew up. It was the city center that I fell in love with. It was hard not to. There was the amazing architecture, of course—the neoclassical and Georgian buildings in New Town were gorgeous. When I first walked around New Town, I could imagine myself in Regency dresses, acting out a Jane Austen novel.
Then there was the castle. Edinburgh Castle sat on an extinct volcano between Old and New Town, a mammoth king perched upon his throne, watching over his kingdom. More than anything, I would’ve loved a home with a view of that majestic building, but Jim and I would have to quadruple our annual income and then some to afford a place anywhere with a view like that.
Edinburgh was beautiful. Scotland was beautiful. It was everything I’d imagined and more.
Old Town was charming as well, but in a different way to New Town. The university was there, and of course, that held my interest. And my longing.
There was also the Royal Mile, a Reformation-era street with cobbled roads and dark, atmospheric alleyways.
The city was more than its looks. New Town was where the money was, with beautiful apartments, lawyers, accountants, and psychiatrists, high-end shopping malls, cocktail bars, five-star restaurants, and luxury boutique hotels. It was aspirational, and appealed to that secret part of me that wondered what life would be like if money were no obstacle.
Old Town was more complex. It was casual, down-to-earth, arty, pretentious, fun-loving, serious, quirky, and staid. It bustled with students, and I think maybe that was why it was a jumble of every vibe you could think of. And I loved it because it meant no matter who you were, there was a place for you there.
As for Leith, an area down by the Shore, I liked it too. It was down by the waterfront, a mishmash of money and not so much money. Luxury apartments were built by the water, there were Michelin-star restaurants, cosmetic surgery clinics, and the Royal Yacht Britannia. But there were also pubs that didn’t look like they’d seen a good scrub in a while, and a mall with stores for people with lower to middle incomes. I’d gotten a job at a supermarket in Leith, and Jim made okay money at his construction job. Although we were saving most of our money to buy a house, and it was a push on our income to do so, Jim wanted a nice place for me and rented us a one-bedroom apartment a mere fifteen-minute walk from the shore, and my job at the supermarket.
Soon after we moved in, Seonaid got a place a block from us. Until I saw his sister’s name in writing, I thought it was spelled Seona because it was pronounced see-oh-nah. Apparently, there was a mild controversy around her name, as most people thought it should be pronounced “Shona.” She left school at sixteen, and under advisement from her mom, deliberately softened her accent so it sounded more anglicized, and started working in a hair salon. She’d worked her butt off to eventually get a job in this fancy hair salon in New Town. She was making what Jim and I made combined and could afford a nice place on her own. I liked having her near as she’d become my closest friend here.
Any free time we had, we usually spent with Roddy and Seonaid. Sometimes we were joined by Seonaid’s friends and guys Jim and Roddy worked construction with. But more often than not, if it was an impromptu pub visit, it was just the four of us.
Just as it was a Sunday a few weeks after Jim and I had argued about the future. Again.
We’d met up with Seonaid and Roddy at Leith’s Landing, a pub right on the shore. On a sunny day, we loved sitting outside by the water. But I’d come to find that sunny days were almost a rarity in Scotland, and if I missed anything more than I missed my family, it was the Indiana summers.
“Oh, what an arsehole,” Roddy huffed, chugging back more of his lager as he watched the huge TV screen behind Seonaid’s head. There was a soccer game on, and although Jim and Roddy had been commenting on the game for the last thirty minutes, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you who the hell was playing.
Soccer made my eyes glaze over and my hearing switch to mute.
Despite Jim having his arm around me, I thought I had ceased to exist as I usually did when the guys were watching soccer. Seonaid had been telling me about an actress whose hair she’d cut during the week. She couldn’t tell me who but we were having fun playing the guessing game.
It surprised me then when Jim suddenly turned to me and said, “I booked us intae a lodge in Loch Lomond in two weeks’ time. Friday tae Sunday. Thought ye might like it.”
I looked into his familiar-as-my-own face. Jim had an ability to disarm me and trigger my guilt. Despite knowing how we liked our coffee, which sleeping position made us snore, what foods gave us gas, and how much toilet paper we each went through in a week, my husband didn’t know me. But then he’d make me feel guilty over my despair by doing something sweet that almost made up for it.
Since I’d moved here, Jim had tried to show me parts of Scotland whenever we had time. Usually, during the summer we’d take time off work and rent a caravan (like a camper van that was permanently situated in a holiday park) or stay at a lodge somewhere. So far, Loch Lomond was my favorite place. There was something about being surrounded by hills and tranquil water that made me feel at peace for a while. And peace was a hard thing for me to grasp on to.
“Yeah?”
Jim pressed a soft kiss to my lips. When he pulled back, he studied me, a small crease between his brows. “I think we need a wee break away together.”
My ugly subconscious wanted to argue that a weekend break to Loch Lomond wasn’t going to solve our problems, but like Jim, I hoped for a miracle. “It sounds great.”
“What are you whispering about?” Seonaid said loudly across the table.
I grinned. “None of your beeswax.”
She smirked. “Is it about uni?”
Her question immediately made me tense against Jim, and his arm locked tight around me. He cut his sister a scowl. “What are ye talking about?”
Seonaid frowned and looked at me. At the sight of my wide eyes, ever-so-slightly shaking head, and clenched jaw, she raised an eyebrow. “Um …”
Jim looked down at me. “What about uni?”
“Nothing.”
He cursed under his breath and turned back to his sister. “What about uni?”
Seonaid’s gaze slid back and forth between me and her brother; clearly, she decided not to listen to me. “I looked into Edinburgh Uni’s admission and turns out Nora could get in.”
“What?” Baffled, Jim stared at her.
“Edinburgh University,” Seonaid said slowly. “Nora could get in.”
“How the fuck could Nora get into Edinburgh Uni?” Roddy suddenly said without looking away from the game. “It’s one of the top twenty universities in the world. Fourth in the UK.”
Seonaid snorted. “How the hell do you know that?”
Roddy tore his eyes away from the screen to give her a droll look. “I ken ye think I’m a thick fuck, but I can read, ye ken, Cee-Cee.”
“I don’t think you’re a thick fuck. Just a lazy one.” She grinned unrepentantly.
His lids lowered ever so slightly. “I’m not lazy when it matters.”
No one could mistake the innuendo in his voice. Seonaid rolled her eyes and turned back to Jim. I’d soon discovered that Roddy was the only one who called Seonaid Cee-Cee (a nickname she thought didn’t even make sense and was ridiculous, but that she allowed nonetheless). There was something between them I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Jim seemed oblivious to it. Either that or he was pretending (something he was good at) nothing existed between his sister and best friend but friendship. I wasn’t sure that was true. Perhaps on Seonaid’s part, but I wasn’t convinced on Roddy’s. He flirted with her all the time, but he was so blunt, dry, and sarcastic, I think Seonaid assumed it was all banter. Plus, she was four years older, so I don’t think it even crossed her mind that the guy who’d grown up with her kid brother might fancy the pants off her.
“How … wait …” Jim lowered his arm from around my shoulders and turned to me. “How can ye get intae Edinburgh Uni? And tae study what?”
Dreading an argument, especially after our last one in which Jim made it clear school was not an option, I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“Wait,” Seonaid leaned across the table, “are you telling me you haven’t told him about your amazing SAT scores?”
“SAT what?”
I could hear the agitation in his voice and wanted to kill his sister. “Seonaid, leave it.”
“No, don’t leave it,” Jim huffed. “Tell me.”
“SAT’s are like our highers and advanced highers,” Seonaid explained. “You need a good score to get into university. If you’re from the States and want to go to Edinburgh, you need a score of at least an 1800 along with two AP classes at grade four. Nora got a 2100 on her SAT’s and has three AP classes at grade five.”
“I dinnae know what the fuck that means,” he snapped.
Seonaid huffed. “It means your wife is incredibly fucking smart. Something I’d thought you’d surely know by now.”
Jim stared down at me like he’d never seen me before. “Why didn’t I know this?”
“That I’m smart?”
“I know ye’er smart, for Christ’s sake.”
Did he? Really?
“Ye’er always reading.” He shrugged.
“Well, as Roddy just proved, even numbnuts can read, Jim,” Seonaid said.
“My nuts are no’ numb,” Roddy replied. “One lick would prove that tae ye.”
Jim cracked him across the head with the palm of his hand.
Roddy shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Too far?”
Ignoring him, Seonaid reached for her brother’s hand, eyes bright with excitement. “Can you imagine Nora at Edinburgh Uni? No one in our family could even have imagined getting into Edinburgh! Mum would be so bloody proud if Nora got in.”
My pulse raced at the thought of attending the university, of being among those students I envied every time I passed them in their university hoodies, soaking up knowledge along with like-minded people who enjoyed learning. And making Angie and Seonaid proud would be icing on the cake.
He looked at his sister like she was speaking another language.
And then his voice turned accusatory as he turned to me. “Tae study what?”
“Psychology,” Seonaid spoke for me again.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck would ye study psychology?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” Seonaid got defensive, “maybe so she can go into clinical psychology, or education, or health, or further education, or fucking anything that will actually mean something to her.”
Jim glowered at her. “Would ye mind letting my wife speak?”
Seonaid cut him a dirty look before settling back and taking a gulp of wine.
Silence fell over the table.
“Well?”
I sighed. “Jim, it’s a moot point, isn’t it?”
“Do ye know how expensive it is?”
“Because I’m a UK resident now, it’s less than a few grand a year.” After two years of marriage, I was able to apply for permanent residency so the fees were considerably less for a Scottish student.
“A few grand? Aye, and tae do what? That’s oor money for a house,” he argued. “We talked about this.”
Anger, embarrassment, and guilt flooded me, flushing my cheeks. “I know. That’s why I never brought it up.”
After studying me, Jim seemed satisfied I was telling the truth, and he relaxed. Marginally. His arm slid back around my shoulder, but its weight no longer felt comforting. It felt oppressive, like a claim.
I looked across the table at Seonaid to find her frowning at her brother. She shot me a look of concern. “Jim—”
“Seonaid, I love ye, but this is none of yer fucking business.”
The awkward silence that fell over the table seemed even more pronounced in contrast to the noise of the pub—from the groans and cheers shouted at the TV screen and the happy Sunday chatter at the bar, and around the tables scattered throughout the large room.
But if there was anything Roddy was particularly good at, it was breaking an awkward silence.
“Ye ken what is yer business, Cee-Cee? How lonely I was in ma bed last night.”
Despite the tension radiating off Jim, I almost spat my beer out in laughter.
Amusement glittered in Seonaid’s dark eyes. “As long as you have your right hand, Roddy, you’ll never be lonely.”
Jim shook against me with light laughter, and I laughed loudly, possibly more out relief that he was letting the last conversation go.
Roddy grinned at her. She was the only one who ever made him really smile like that. “I’m ambidextrous, sweetheart.”
“A wanking insurance policy.” She raised an eyebrow. “So life did throw you a bone after all. Pun intended.”
Chuckling now, Roddy opened his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly drifted over Seonaid’s shoulder, and the smile fell right off his face. He grabbed his lager and before taking a long swig, he announced, “The arsehole just arrived.”
Seonaid’s latest lover, Fergus, was walking toward our table. Seonaid threw Roddy an exasperated look. “Be nice.”
He ignored her, staring determinedly at the television, something I knew he would do as long as Fergus was around. Roddy was never nice to any of Seonaid’s boyfriends, and she’d had a few since I’d been here. How it hadn’t occurred to her that Roddy’s flirtatiousness might actually be hiding real feelings, I did not know.
Or maybe she was in denial too.
Or it could be that she had a particular type and Roddy wasn’t it.
Sympathy for my friend made it hard for me to truly like Fergus. That and the fact that Seonaid was always attracted to really good-looking guys who knew they were good-looking and were fuckwits about it.
Roddy was far too rough around the edges to compete looks-wise with those guys, but despite his claims earlier, Roddy was never short of a girl or two. He had a brusque standoffishness that seemed to work for women. They sensed what I already knew—that beneath that rough, abrupt, cocky exterior was a very kind, loyal man. It drove them crazy and appealed to the feminine instinct to be the one woman who could bring that side of him to the surface.
“Hey, babe,” Seonaid stood up to hug and kiss Fergus.
He settled at the table with us. “Hey, all. How is everyone doing?”
Jim and I responded.
Roddy did not.
Fergus barely paid attention. “I can’t stay long, baby,” he said to Seonaid. “Jack asked me to help him move today.”
“Oh.” Seonaid’s expression fell. “We haven’t seen each other all week, though.”
“I know …” He kissed her softly. “Don’t nag, baby, eh?”
I wanted to kick him in the balls.
Apparently, so did Seonaid. “I’m not nagging. Did that sound like nagging to you?” she asked us.
Roddy side-eyed her but didn’t respond.
Avoiding the question, Jim shrugged and looked at the TV.
“Drinks?” I said, trying to break the awkwardness. “Anyone?”
“Another lager,” Jim said.
Roddy lifted his empty glass. “Same here.”
“Wine.” Seonaid sighed, realizing no one wanted to get involved in another couple’s spat.
“I’ll have a Tennent’s. Thanks, Nora.” Fergus spun around in his seat to see what game was on. “What did I miss?”
I left the table as Jim filled him in.
Instead of standing at the bar waiting to get served, I hopped up onto a bar stool. Because of my height, I tended to get ID’d more, which was frustrating since the legal drinking age here was eighteen. Even though Gareth, the bartender, knew me, I still hated feeling like a little girl standing at that bar.
Gareth was busy serving someone else, and as I sat there stewing on the conflict between my husband and me, I slowly became aware of a prickling sensation in my scalp. Following the feeling, I turned my head ever so slightly and scanned the room. At first, I couldn’t discern why I’d felt like I was being watched … and then my eyes connected with his.
The noise of the bar dimmed to a murmur as we stared at one another, this stranger and me. From the distance across the bar, I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but they were focused. Intent. On me.
He was older. Tall, broad-shouldered, looking crammed into the booth he and his companion were in. The woman sitting in the booth behind him looked tiny in comparison.
He was utterly masculine in a way that caused my breath to falter. Square, strong jawline, expressive mouth, unshaven, and a moody countenance. There was a crease between his brows and sexy laugh lines around his eyes.
I flushed, quickly turning back to the bar.
My back felt hot beneath my long hair as if the stranger’s stare was still burning into me.
“Nora, I’ll be with ye as soon as I can,” Gareth called, looking apologetic.
I gave him a reassuring smile because the pub was always busy on Sundays.
“Nora, is it?”
The stool next to me shifted, and I reluctantly looked at my new neighbor. A lanky guy, maybe late twenties, early thirties, grinned at me from the stool while another stockier guy stood at his side. They each had a pint of Guinness in their hands and were leering at me in a way I knew and dreaded.
I flicked a glance across the room at my table and relaxed marginally at the sight of Jim laughing with Seonaid, not paying attention to the bar.
“Let us buy ye a drink, Nora,” the lanky one said.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“Aw, c’mon.” His grin was lopsided, and his pupils told me he’d had more than a few pints today. “We dinnae bite. Unless ye ask, o’ course.”
More firmly, I replied, “No thanks,” and looked away.
Not even a second later, I felt his hand brush my back as it came to rest on the edge of my stool. I glanced at him, shrinking away at finding he’d trapped me against the bar.
“I’m Lewis.” He nodded to his friend. “This is Pete. And we both decided ye’er the sexiest wee thing we’ve seen in ages.”
“I’m also married.” I held up my ring finger. “So …” Fuck off.
Lewis dismissed this information. “Who cares.”
“I fucking care.”
Anxiety suffused me as my eyes flew behind Pete to find my husband, looking furious. “Jim, it’s fine.”
Jim shoved Pete out of the way and stepped up to Lewis. “Get yer fuckin’ hand off her stool before I rip it off and shove it up yer arse.”
“Jim,” I pleaded.
“What’s yer problem, mate?” Lewis slammed his Guinness down on the counter and slid off the stool. He was taller than Jim but not as built, yet it didn’t seem to matter.
He was drunk.
And my husband was overprotective.
“Jim,” I warned, slipping off the stool and placing a hand on his chest. “Just leave it. They’re drunk. They didn’t mean anything.”
Jim pushed my hand away hard enough to make me stumble back and then he threw the first punch.
After that, everything was a blur.
Shouts and cries, both outraged and encouraging, filled the air as Jim and Lewis went at each other. It wasn’t a fair fight because Jim was nowhere near as drunk, and he was bigger, but Lewis was dogged.
After Jim hit him hard enough to throw him back into the bar counter, Lewis barely took a moment to shake his dazed head, and then lunged at Jim like a bull, catching him around the middle.
I saw him driving Jim toward me, but there were stools and a pillar in my way. My reflexes weren’t fast enough.
They knocked me right off my feet.
Pain ricocheted up my right wrist as I hit the floor hard. There was a blur of movement and sound above me, and one deep voice cutting through, “For fuck’s sake.”
Strong hands gripped me under my arms, and I found myself lifted to my feet like I weighed no more than a hummingbird. I caught a glimpse of my rescuer’s face as his large body moved; a jolt of awareness rocked through me. It was the stranger who’d studied me earlier.
Suddenly, he had his arms around Jim, pulling him away from his opponent, while his companion did the same to Lewis.
“Enough,” he announced calmly, his voice cutting through the entire room.
Roddy shoved his way through the crowd to get to Jim. To anyone else, Roddy looked unaffected but I knew him better. And like me, he was annoyed at my husband.
It took him a moment, but Jim jerked out of the stranger’s hold. He pointed his finger at Lewis. “Ye stay the fuck away from my wife.” He then gestured at me, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
I glared at my husband as I tried to ignore the penetrating stare of the stranger.
“Right. Out.” Gareth pushed past people to get to Lewis and his friend.
“How come we need tae go?” Lewis huffed, wiping the blood from his nose. “He hit me first.”
“Because I know him. I dinnae know you. All I know is Jim’s never caused a problem in ma bar before … until you. So you and yer pal can get the fuck out, or I’ll throw ye out.”
The stranger’s friend let Lewis go, and with much grumbling and empty threats, they staggered out.
Roddy said something to Jim that made him scowl, but I couldn’t hear what. As everyone settled down, fixing upturned chairs and sitting at their tables, I was aware of the stranger and his friend taking a seat at the bar. I didn’t dare make eye contact with him again. Not only because I was humiliated, but because I was genuinely concerned Jim might overreact if he caught me looking at another man. Worrying about that was another problem in our marriage. I knew it was.
My whole body was stiff, and my wrist throbbed as I gazed in reproach at my husband. He stared back at me, seeming defeated.
I wanted to cry.
Jim hadn’t always been as possessive, as territorial as he was now. It’d worsened over the years, and I didn’t need that psychology degree to know it stemmed from insecurity.
I feared my husband sensed my true feelings.
The reproach abruptly fled, replaced by guilt.
“Are you okay?”
I jerked out of my melancholic thoughts to find Seonaid right in front of me, her hands on my biceps. I looked up into her concerned face. “I’m fine.”
“You hit the floor hard. Mr. Hottie,” she nodded to the stranger at the bar, “got to you before I could.”
The throbbing in my wrist intensified and I winced, lifting it. “I went down on my wrist.”
Anger suffused Seonaid’s face, and she glanced over her shoulder at her brother. Whatever he saw on her face had him finally moving toward me.
“Ye okay?” he asked quietly.
“No, she’s not. She’s hurt her wrist.”
“It’s fine.” I cradled it to my chest.
“Jesus,” Jim winced, sliding his hand around my waist, “I’m sorry, Nora. I’m so sorry.”
I nodded. I was too exhausted to berate him like I wanted to.
“Let’s get ye home, get yer wrist wrapped up.”
The mood was obliterated anyway, and I was sure the whole pub would breathe a sigh of relief once we left. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to come?” Seonaid asked.
“No, we don’t.” Jim shot her a back-off look, and she raised her hands in defense.
“Okay. I’ll get your purse for you.” She wandered back to the table and I saw her say something to Roddy. Fergus, oblivious to anything not related to him, sat playing with his phone.
Jim kissed me softly, murmuring against my mouth, “I’m so sorry.”
I nodded again, anxious fluttering flaring to life in my belly as I thought about the much bigger conversation I feared on our horizon. As Seonaid walked back toward us with my purse, I used the moment to surreptitiously check out the stranger at the bar.
Our eyes met again. This time he was so close, close enough to hear my conversation with Jim, close enough I could see curiosity in his beautiful green eyes. He’d been so calm and authoritative, breaking up the fight. He’d barely even had to say anything.
I still had the phantom imprint of his hands under my arms, and my eyes dropped to those hands. A shiver rippled through me, making me feel a strange mix of guilt and pleasure. He had big hands, large knuckles, slim fingers. Elegant hands. My gaze lingered longer than I’d meant, taking in his extremely fit physique delineated by his black thermal.
It wasn’t only his height and general attractiveness that made the stranger stand out. He reeked of money. Despite the simplicity of his clothing—a thermal and jeans—he reeked of money. When he’d picked me up, I’d gotten a whiff of cologne so sexy … earthy but fresh. Like wood, and amber, mint leaves, and apple. It smelled expensive.
Maybe it wasn’t the clothes or the cologne that gave the impression of money. Maybe it was the confidence, the ownership of the room, like wherever he went, this guy was the one in charge.
Maybe it was an age thing, I reminded myself. He was probably in his mid-thirties.
Seonaid suddenly blocked him from view, giving me a knowing smirk. “Your purse.”
I blushed, glancing at Jim to make sure he hadn’t noticed my ogling (he hadn’t), and gave my sister-in-law a hug.
As Jim slid his arm around my back and led me out of the bar, I glanced over my shoulder one last time to find the stranger watching me. He lifted his drink, and I nodded my thanks, holding his gaze until Jim had led us out of sight.