Chapter Seven
This was absolutely nothing like what he’d expected.
Brett glanced around the Highland Games and frowned slightly. It had almost a street fair atmosphere. Food booths, shopping booths, informational booths and various stages and areas where events were happening.
“They have a whisky-tasting thing, Chief, and I think we should hit that up.”
Brett glanced over at Simmons. “It’s barely past noon.”
The sailor grinned. “Exactly. I already had my coffee. You coming?”
“Later. I’m going to wander for a bit. I’ll meet you guys over there.”
“All right. Later, Chief.” Simmons took off with a group of about five other sailors who were also under Brett’s command.
He bit back a sigh. Those guys drank a little too much maybe, but then, it was somewhat their age and lifestyle too. A lot of these young, unmarried sailors simply wanted to drink and get laid when they weren’t working. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Hell, he’d gone through a similar phase, but he was done with that shit now. Everything in moderation. Especially the drinking, and he rarely did that around his men anyway.
Brett stood where he was, glancing around the grounds and debating where to go first. The sound of bagpipes resonated in the warm afternoon. He could follow them. Maybe there was some kind of parade or something. He glanced down at the schedule he’d picked up and scanned it.
The games portion of the event seemed to involve mostly men. Maybe he should check out the Highland dancing stage. There were various activities going on all day there.
He wandered over to the area, his gaze roaming the crowd for any sight of her. Finally he arrived at the stage where some of the dancing seemed to be taking place. Disappointment sank in as he watched the group of children performing onstage.
Children. Not the beautiful, grown Scottish woman he was hoping for. Still, he was so impressed by the little kids and their athletic dance to the bagpipes, that he sat down in one of the chairs to watch. Not to mention he was beginning to realize finding Kenzie here was a long shot.
The dance wrapped up and the children rushed offstage. His gaze naturally followed them, his lips twisting in amusement at their level of excitement.
There she was. His breath caught as he spotted her. Kenzie stood off to the side of the stage, embracing one of the little girls and clearly offering up praise.
He realized immediately why he hadn’t recognized her right away. Her most recognizable feature, her hair, was twisted in a bun on top of her head. Her makeup was dark, and she wore some kind of traditional Scottish dance outfit: a long tartan skirt, and white blouse with a black vest over it, and some weird high-rise socks.
The outfit was about as non-sexy as you could get, and yet the only thought in his mind was how damn beautiful she was.
He watched from his seat near the back as the children transitioned offstage and a smaller adult group of female dancers replaced them. Just like the rest of the women, Kenzie was all smiles as the performance began.
She exchanged a glance with another dancer and threw back her head and laughed in delight. Clearly she loved this and dancing was her element. She was damn good at it.
Her gaze turned to the crowd, her smile wide. It faltered the moment she spotted him. So did her steps, but she quickly recovered. Her gaze swept away from him and her smile—more strained now—widened.
Brett stayed and watched the rest of the show, and it wasn’t one hundred percent because of Kenzie.
He watched in surprise and growing fascination at how athletic the dance was. Lots of kicking and jumping, and pretty much staying on their toes. Clearly this was at least part of how she kept in such good shape.
When the dance came to an end, the dancers exited the stage and clustered around chatting. Not Kenzie, though. She made a beeline straight for him.
“I don’t suppose your being here is a coincidence?” She propped a hand on her hip and gave him a pointed look.
“I’ve got a thing for Scottish chicks?”
Her gaze narrowed, but he swore he saw her mouth twitch.
“One in particular,” he added quietly. “That was some pretty impressive dancing there.”
“Thank you.”
Was the flush in her cheeks from his compliment, or from the dancing? Either way, he hadn’t noticed it a moment ago.
“I’m sorry you didn’t receive my flowers.”
“I did.” She must’ve realized her mistake in the admission a moment too late. Guilt flashed briefly in her eyes. “They were lovely. Thank you.”
“Sure they didn’t end up in the garbage?”
“Of course not. I gave them to a cute older couple having supper in the pub.”
Well, at least that wasn’t quite as bad as the garbage. Though the garbage had probably been the final resting place for his pictures and the card.
“Why are you trying so hard, Brett?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She stared at him a moment before doing an aggravating eye roll.
“And how many women have you used that on? Because it sounds like one of the most cliché lines in the book.”
“Maybe I have used it before,” he admitted. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I’ve actually meant it about.”
“I’m not quite sure if that’s endearing or insulting. It does, however, sound like another line.” Her mouth curved into a half smile, before she glanced behind her at someone. The child she’d been embracing earlier.
“Who’s she?”
“My niece.” Her tone warmed. “She only took up the dancing less than a year ago.”
He remembered the girl from the stage. She was a cute little thing.
“She did great.”
“Aye, she did.” Pride clearly resonated in Kenzie’s tone. Finally she turned to face him. “What will it take you to leave me be?”
“Do you really want me to?”
She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Then she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled. God, but he wanted to be the one nibbling on the pink flesh.
“I didn’t call you,” she muttered, almost churlishly.
“Maybe you lost the card with my number on it.”
She arched a brow. “Maybe I threw it away on purpose.”
Actually, that was probably exactly what she’d done.
“Have a drink with me,” he commanded softly. “Or is there somewhere else you need to be? Do you have to watch your niece?”
“No. She’s going to watch her dad compete in several events in the games. Her mother’s taking her.”
He glanced beyond her to see the girl walking beside someone who must’ve been the mother. Both shared olive coloring and a somewhat exotic look about them.
“I have nowhere else to be, but give me a moment.” She disappeared briefly to talk to the woman.
The woman nodded, glanced his way curiously, and then walked off with the little girl.
“So that was a yes to the drink?” he queried when she returned.
“Do you drink whisky?” She answered his question with one of her own.
Not since he’d overindulged twelve years ago with a group of sailors and had been sicker than a dog.
“I have.” Ambiguity was always good.
“Let’s go do a tasting, if you think you can handle it.”
Damn, but had she just thrown down a challenge or what?
“Sugar, I’m at least half a foot taller and probably close to a hundred pounds more. I think I can handle it.”
“Right then.” She arched a brow and strode past him. “Shall we?”
*
Kenzie led Brett to the cordoned-off area that was designated for the twenty-one and older crowd. With him walking behind her, she was fairly certain he had a great view of her arse, but what did it matter? There wasn’t much to see being that it was hidden beneath her heavy tartan skirt.
As they moved into the tasting area, people started waving and greeting her. She knew these people well and saw them frequently at the different Highland Games locations.
“Good afternoon, Patrick. I’ve brought a friend in for a lesson on whisky.”
“All right.” The older man glanced at Brett and grinned. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you both started. Though Kenzie could probably run it herself, seeing as she has before.”
“Oh, you flatter me.” She winked at Patrick and took a seat at the table.
As the older man began preparing for their sampling, Brett’s mouth suddenly thinned as he looked over her shoulder. A moment later she heard the roars and taunting of men behind her.
She turned and saw a group of young men approaching. Several of them familiar from their group dinner the other night.
“Hey, Chief, isn’t that Tad’s girl?” one called out, clearly a little buzzed already.
“My name is Kenzie, since you seem to be struggling to recall, and I’m nobody’s girl.” She gave them a saccharine yet bitchy smile.
Her response only encouraged them and they started hollering and clapping.
“She told you, Wilks.”
“Your whisky.” Patrick returned with two shot glasses and three bottles of whisky. “Shall I begin?”
Kenzie leaned over and gave him her most innocent, imploring smile, then asked quietly, “Actually, Patrick, I quite like the idea of running this one myself. Would you mind terribly? I’ll leave you my credit card to cover my arse in case.”
Patrick blushed and looked around. “Oh, well, I don’t see the harm in it. You’ve run this more than once. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
Once he disappeared, she turned back to face Brett.
“All right. Let’s get started.”
“Where did the other dude go? Patrick?” Brett looked slightly alarmed.
“He put you in my hands. You’re not worried, are you?”
“I’d be all right in her hands,” one of the sailors yelled, causing the rest to guffaw.
Little boys. They were like little fuckin’ boys.
“That’s enough,” Brett called out tersely, and the group immediately stood straighter and quieted.
They truly did respect him and his authority, even when not at work.
“All right. I have three bottles of whisky here. One is considered average, the other high-end, and the last more of a bargain one. Which shall we try first?”
“Bargain.”
Ah, now that surprised her. She fancied him for the high-end type of guy. The group of sailors seemed to grow bored and disappeared back to their own drinks.
She filled Brett’s glass with two fingers of whisky and then her own.
Brett reached for it immediately.
“Now I want you to—”
Before she could finish he’d tossed it back, swallowing the shot in one single gulp.
“Amateur.” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Excuse me?” His eyes were watering and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re not to shoot the drink. We sip it. I want you to savor it and enjoy the complexity of the drink.”
“Complexity? It tastes like whisky. Isn’t that about all there is to it?”
She shook her head and refilled his shot. “Let’s try this again. Sip it. Tell me what you notice.”
They took a sip together, and he closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to be considering it.
“This one burns.” He opened his eyes and shrugged. “Honestly, it kind of tastes like ass.”
“So lovely to hear that you’re familiar with the taste of ass,” she teased dryly and finished the rest of her shot.
Brett didn’t laugh, but remained silent. In his gaze she only saw a smoldering heat that made her realize maybe she shouldn’t have said something so completely suggestive.
“Finish that and we’ll try the mid-grade whisky.”
He tossed back the shot and winced. “Yeah, it’s pretty gross. Sorry.”
“Glenfiddich is actually quite popular.” She filled up his glass with the next bottle. “What is your usual drink of preference?”
“Brandy.”
“Ah. Very classic.”
“Is it?” He lifted the glass and sniffed. “This one smells different. Smoky.”
“Aye. Try it. Let me know what you think.”
She watched him lift the glass to his mouth and take a small drink. He pursed his lips and nodded.
“That’s pretty damn good. Tastes smoky.”
“That’s what Bowmore is legendary for. They’re produced in the second-oldest distillery in Scotland.” She drank hers and then reached for the third bottle. “And here is our high-end Tomatin whisky.”
Almost a pro at this now, Brett took a small sip and nodded. “It’s smooth.”
“Aye.” She drank it back easily. “It’s my favorite. Well, one of them.”
He tossed back the rest of the shot and arched a brow. “You have expensive tastes, Ms. McLaughlin.”
“Mmm. Only in my whisky.” She refilled her glass with another shot.
“That’s it?” He arched a brow. “We’re done?”
“You’ve had four shots, I think that’s enough.” She gave him a sweet smile and then downed hers.
His brows drew together as if she’d insulted him. “Is there more whisky to sample?”
“Oh, aye, there’s plenty.”
He pushed his glass toward her. “Well let’s keep going.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get drunk.” She arched a brow.
“If you’re not drunk, sugar, then I’m nowhere near it.”
Really? She wasn’t going to point out how his eyes were brighter than they had been a few minutes ago.
“Oh right. Because you’re so much taller and heavier,” she murmured sweetly and stood to retrieve a couple more bottles.
Ten minutes and three shots later, she could feel the buzz coming on and she leaned back in her chair and stared at Brett.
He nursed his glass in his hand, a slightly dopey smile on his face. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
“No really. You’re gorgeous.” He leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. “And you’re smart—oops.” His elbow wobbled and he fell forward slightly.
“And I think we’ve had enough of this.” She stood, grabbed the bottles and returned them easily.
Her stomach was warm and she had a mild buzz, meaning she’d either be here until evening before she drove, or she’d be catching a ride home.
But Brett, now he was pretty much—
“I can’t believe it. Is the chief drunk?”
She turned at the voice, and gave the approaching sailors a wry smile.
“Aye, he might be a bit. I think he overestimated his tolerance for whisky. Will one of you be able to drive him home?”
“Drive me home?” Brett stumbled to his feet. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“No, actually, I’m not.” He frowned and dismay slowly spread across his face. “Dammit, you got me drunk.”
“I believe you got yourself drunk, Chief,” she said sweetly. “Perhaps you’d do well to know your limits next time.”
“How are you still sober?” He was slurring his s’s right now. “I would be so damn pissed right now if you weren’t so gorgeous.” He stumbled forward. “Can I at least get a kiss?”
His sailors were having a field day with this. She could see it in her peripheral. The nudging of each other and little effort to restrain their laughter.
“No, you may not get a kiss.” She patted him on the shoulder and winked. “What you may want to get are a few painkillers before bed. Drink lots of water, and perhaps eat some bread.”
“Bread. That doesn’t sound—oh my God.” He spun to the group of sailors. “Which one of y’all is driving me home? Can we go to Taco Heaven?”
Unable to hide her mirth now, she joined in with the laughing sailors. A few stepped forward to help escort him out of the cordoned-off whisky area.
“Make sure he gets home safely?” she asked the sailor who looked most trustworthy. Really, it was a shot in the dark at this rate.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. “We’ve been trying to get Chief drunk for years. You accomplished what we’ve never managed to do.”
Guilt stabbed briefly through her, but she kept her smile up.
“He’s probably not drunk,” she lied, “but it’s best you drive him just in case.”
“He’s tossed on his ass. I’m pretty sure he’ll puke tonight.”
“I hope not,” she murmured, worrying her lip with her teeth. God, what if he actually got sick in their car? Yikes.
Brett was half led, half carried past her.
“You’re gorgeous, Kenzie,” he called out again.
And then he broke into that don’t you forget about me song as he was led out of the fairgrounds.
“What the hell kind of nonsense was that?”
She turned to find her brother Colin standing behind her, scowling. How long had he been there?
“What nonsense?” she asked innocently.
“You got that man pissed drunk. Why?”
She blushed. Damn good question. “He overestimated his tolerance level.”
“You don’t mess around with a man like that, Kenz. He’ll not take it well in the morning. Do you know him?”
“Aye, she does.” Aleck appeared next, a dark expression on his face as he glanced after the retreating sailors. “So it was him? He brought the card. I should’ve known.”
“Aleck…”
“You made your bed, you can lie in it.” He shook his head. “That was dirty. You knew he’d try to keep up with a woman, and your tolerance is higher than most men’s with whisky. It near runs in your veins.”
Aye, of course she knew. That’s why she’d brought Brett over here.
The guilt inside her spread, not fading even after her brothers left her again and the sailors had long since disappeared.
Shite.
Aleck was right. Brett was going to be a mess come morning, and embarrassed as hell.