She felt confused every time she thought about Callum and Adam. Part of her wanted to see Callum again. His bright, eager, flirting made her feel light-hearted and carefree. There was nothing intense about Callum.

But part of her missed Adam terribly. Whenever she thought about the night they’d spent together, and the one that they nearly had, she felt a tingling rush of lust from the tips of her fingers to her toes, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his strong hands on her body again. But after Christmas night, she felt like that was very unlikely. So why shouldn’t she enjoy flirting with Callum?

She also wondered how on earth had she managed to stumble across two eligible, devastatingly handsome men in the middle of the back and beyond.

She tossed her laptop and work papers in her bag and walked to the pub. The clouds were heavy and threatening so no big change there. It was certainly darker than it should be for the afternoon hour. She wondered if she should have left after all—it looked as if a storm might be brewing—but she was already on her way, and she pushed the worry aside. Besides, she was starting to get a bad case of cabin fever.

Both men were in the pub. Adam was polishing glasses behind the bar, and Callum was reading a book at the same table he was sitting at those few nights ago. The scene was now comfortably familiar, with the usual customers scattered around doing their usual things. Amelia settled at a table, and pulled out her work. She’d barely started going over her notes when she saw Callum approach. She smiled up at him.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked.

Amelia hesitated. She could tell him yes, and she knew he’d go back to his table and she could avoid any further awkwardness with regard to Adam. Or she could say no, which she was rapidly realizing was the answer she wanted to give, and enjoy a nice evening of pleasant company with a frisson of something a little more.

“You’re not interrupting,” she said firmly, pushing her notebook aside. “It’d be nice to have some company.”

Callum smiled and set his book on the table, sliding into a seat. “It’s great to see you again,” he said. “I was hoping it might happen.”

“How much longer are you here for?” Amelia asked.

“A few days,” Callum said, “I’m flying out Sunday. Time to get back to the regular routine and all of that. My dad’s health hasn't been so good, so I wanted to spend some extra time here this holiday. But life calls. You know.”

“I do,” Amelia agreed. She thought briefly of the life she had waiting for her back in Chicago. Once that had involved a man who was nearly her fiancé, a stunning apartment, and the promise of a good job. Now she was single, without a place of her own, and she hadn’t heard anything from the jobs she’d applied to. Maybe she should think about starting over somewhere else. If not New York City with David, then somewhere else entirely different. She’d always quite fancied the west coast.

“You still in there?” Callum waved his hand, laughing.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a second. Too much on my mind I guess.”

“Sounds like you need some time to unwind,” he said, grinning at her. “I know a guy who’s really fun to hang out with.”

“Yeah?” Amelia played along. “Maybe you should introduce us.”

“Oh, I think you’ve already met.” Callum winked.

Amelia found herself laughing a lot as they talked. He was lighthearted and funny, and, for the moment, thoughts of Adam faded into the background. She’d let Callum get their beers as she did not want not to deal with the farmer's disapproval. And why should she have to? He was only a rebound fuck after all.

Callum took a swig of his second beer, and reached for his back pocket. “I’m going out to have a smoke,” he said. “I know it’s a bit chilly out, but want to join me?”

Amelia shrugged. “Sure.” She grabbed her parka, pulling it on as they ducked out of the front door. They stood under the overhang, out of the wind, she, laughing at one of his bad jokes.

“Want a smoke?” he asked, holding out the crumpled pack.

Amelia shook her head. “Never have,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Good,” Callum said. “Don’t start. Nasty things.”

“Why’d you start?” she asked curiously.

“Stupid teenage thing,” he admitted. “Dumb but I thought it looked cool. It's as hard as hell to quit, though.”

She had to admit, he did look cool, leaning against the doorframe of the pub, hand cupped around his mouth to shield the flame from the wind as he lit the cigarette. His red hair blew over his angular face. He may have looked cool but he also looked entirely out of place. That was the biggest difference between him and Adam. The countryside and the farmer belonged together. His craggy looks and work-hardened muscles couldn't have been forged anywhere else. Callum was the opposite, lanky and urban, looking as if he’d somehow missed his ride out and gotten left behind here by mistake. He was closer to what she was used to, while being just about unfamiliar enough to be exciting.

She realized that they were standing very close together to avoid the worst of the wind. Amelia felt a sudden rush of excitement, an everything in overdrive type of feeling that comes when you’re very close to someone attractive who might just risk trying to kiss you. Callum took one last long drag of the cigarette and dropped it on the ground, grinding it under his heel. He turned as if to go back inside, but his eyes caught hers, and she sucked in a breath. Her body leaned toward his as of its own volition. She moved forward at the same time he did, and she found herself up against the doorframe, his leg pressed intimately against her thigh, and his hand on her waist. She could smell his cologne, spicy and warm, and she felt a flush of heat spread through her body. She forgot how cold it was, how the wind was sliding under the overhang to bite at her cheeks. The world narrowed to the tall man leaning over her, his eyes searching hers as if asking for permission to kick things up to the next level.

She reached up, He leaned forward, his fingers sliding under her chin, and he captured her lips in a kiss, soft and warm against her mouth, and Amelia was suddenly in a different place entirely.

She leaned into him, her hand sliding around his waist, pressing against his back, her lips parting, and she felt his tongue slip into her mouth. What had begun as a tentative kiss quickly morphed into something much more, and she felt her body dissolving against his. He braced one hand against the doorframe, and placed the other on her hip. Callum then pulled her against him, and she felt his length dig into her leg. He groaned softly, pressing his forehead against hers, and Amelia found herself gasping, struggling to think through the fog of lust that was enveloping her. She pushed gently at his chest and he pulled away, looking down at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brow creasing. “I’m sorry if…”

“No, no,” Amelia said. “I wanted you to. I just…I think I need to go.” She realized this was the second time she’d abruptly abandoned him, but she knew if she stayed much longer she’d be inviting him back to the cottage, and somewhere in her foggy brain, she knew that would be a bad decision.

“That’s okay,” Callum said gently, taking a step back. “I understand.” He ran his fingers shakily through his hair, and she could see the muscles standing out in his jaw, the hard line of him visible through his jeans. He clearly wanted her, but he wasn’t going to force the issue.

Amelia pushed herself away from the doorframe, and walked back into the pub to gather her things. As she turned to leave, Adam’s eye caught hers, and her fingers went unconsciously to her lips. They were tender, and she realized she must look as if she’d been thoroughly ravished. She flushed at the thought that Adam would know what they’d been doing, even though she was perfectly within her rights to do it.

As much as it pained her, she still had feelings for Adam. Amelia had forgotten for a moment, when Callum had been kissing her, but she’d reached to thread her fingers through Adam’s long hair instead of Callum’s short crop, when she’d expected hard, corded muscle under her hands instead of Callum’s lean, athletic arm. A part of her had wanted it to be Adam who was pressing her up against the pub door. And it wasn’t fair to hop into bed with Callum when she was still wanted Adam.

She took an armload of firewood into the cottage with her, flicking on the temperamental kitchen light as she pushed the door open. Once the firewood was by the fire, she switched the radio on. It crackled to life, and a dour-sounding man with a thick accent blared into the room. A bad snowstorm was on the way.

Amelia headed back out to bring in another load of firewood. The prospect of being snowed in worried her. She had a good stock of food, and some candles, and a fair amount of wood, but she had no idea what a Scottish snowstorm was like. Of course, she was used to snow, living in Chicago and Wisconsin but those places had the infrastructure to deal with it. No doubt things were very different out here in the middle of nowhere.

She carried in three more armloads of wood, and the room was beginning to smell like a logging operation, but she didn’t relish the idea of digging out the woodpile in the middle of the storm.

She’d just changed into a pair of thick, fleece-lined thermal yoga pants and a heather gray cashmere hoodie, a Christmas gift from David a few years ago that she’d loved too much to throw out. She was just settling into the couch when there was a loud knock at the door.