Someone who likes to serve others.

  I don’t think I’ve ever met a man like him. It’s scary, yet refreshing.

  “I’ve never asked someone out before,” Dakota admits. “What would I even say?”

  “Simple,” Rowan says. “Just say, ‘Hey, I had a great time Friday night. Would you want to do it again sometime?’”

  “That’s a great way to put it,” I say, though it feels odd to agree with Rowan.

  “You think?” Dakota pushes some eggs around. “It makes me so nervous.”

  “Think about how nervous Isla was to ask you out in the first place,” Rowan points out. “Being the only lesbian—or gay person—in a small town means that dating has had its challenges, and when she has ventured out, she’s been burned every time. Asking you out was a big deal . . . and probably why she invited the third wheel too.” Rowan nods toward me.

  “I was a very charming third wheel.”

  “‘Charming’ is a stretch.” I’m about to protest when he winks and then shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  Good God, if he winks like that again, I’ll pop my breasts back out of this dress and shimmy them in front of his face. No shame.

  “You think she’d appreciate it if I asked her out? We didn’t kiss or anything—maybe she didn’t think it was a good date.”

  “If she held your hand, it was a good date. Trust me, Isla works slow. Ask her out, Dakota. I bet it’ll really make her day.”

  “Yeah?”

  Rowan nods. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then I’ll do it.” Dakota puffs her chest. “I’ll ask her out. Thanks, Rowan.”

  “Anytime.”

  Dakota is in the bathroom, getting ready for her big day, while I laze about at the dining table, watching Rowan finish up with the dishes that he insisted upon washing.

  He’s so hot and cold all the time. I honestly don’t know how to read him. All I know is that last night and this morning—especially this morning—he’s put a dent in the armor I wear when I’m around him.

  He switches off the water, dries his hands, and then turns around, gripping the counter and leaning against it, eyes trained on me. His shirt and jeans are buttoned now, but he still has a fresh-from-bed look, which is doing crazy things to whatever resolve I have left.

  “Thank you,” I say before he can open his mouth.

  “What for?”

  “Well, for breakfast and the dishes, but mainly for giving Dakota the confidence she needed to take that next step—one I’m not sure she’d have made without some insider encouragement.”

  “Dakota reminds me a lot of Isla—soft spoken, sweet, and shy when it comes to relationships. They both need a push, a bit of help to make those steps toward creating something they want.”

  I rest my chin in my hand and give him a long look. “You’re very thoughtful, Rowan.”

  “Not the arsehole you think I am, huh?”

  “Never thought you were. Just . . . I don’t know. You know how to press my buttons.”

  “Same, lass.” He pushes off the counter and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to take off. I’ll see you around.”

  He’s started to the door when I call out, “Hold on.” I get out of my chair and close the distance between us.

  I don’t know what I’m about to do, but I know I need to do something, because there are about a hundred different emotions buzzing through me, bubbling up and needing release.

  Feeling awkward and hoping he doesn’t push me away, I reach out and wrap my arms around his waist. I pause for a moment, waiting for a reaction, and when he doesn’t move, I take that as a good sign and give him a hug.

  Holding my breath, I wait for what feels like minutes, but is only seconds, before his arms encircle me as well and he pulls me in tight. I press my cheek to his chest, remembering how good this felt when we were up at Corsekelly Castle. And it feels so good now that our hug lasts, stretching on and on.

  When I finally pull away, he fixes me with a stare. “What was that for?”

  I shrug. “Thought maybe you needed a hug.”

  He slowly nods. “Didn’t think I did . . . until you gave me one.”

  The air stills between us, despite the fresh breeze wafting in from the open kitchen window. The prolonged anticipation that’s been building between us—the hate, the fights, the curiosity, the attraction—it feels like it’s colliding all at once, in this moment, and it’s almost unbearable.

  Boldly, his eyes rake over me, resting a little longer on my breasts and then climbing to my eyes. They flare, entranced, as I lick my lips. The smoldering flame flickering in his eyes, the rise and fall of his thick chest, the clench of his jaw—all signs that maybe, just maybe, the pull I’m feeling toward this man isn’t just me. That he very well might be experiencing the same thing.

  He takes a step forward, his hand slides around my waist, and I swear to God I can feel my knees weaken as his strong hand grips my side. His other hand lifts my chin as he wets his lips. I hold my breath.

  Waiting, anticipating . . . hoping that his mouth descends on mine. Hoping that, even though we might be at each other’s throats, he finds it as exciting as I do.

  His thumb pulls on my lip, and he lowers just a little bit more—until Dakota opens the bathroom door and walks out, whistling a Taylor Swift song.

  Rowan quickly steps away and pushes his hand through his hair, turning his back to me.

  God damn it, Dakota. She doesn’t even come into the living room—she walks straight into her bedroom without giving us a glance.

  “I should go,” Rowan says, not looking at me but instead ducking his head and moving toward the door.

  “Wait!” I call out, desperate. “I . . . uh . . . can you, um . . .” Jesus, spit it out, Bonnie. “Can you help me with something?”

  He looks over his shoulder. “Right now?”

  “No,” I say, even though I want to say yes. I want to ask him if he can help me with the ache between my legs. Hey-o. “Later, can you stop by the coffee shop?”

  “Sure.” His brow furrows. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Not really. I’m nervous, excited. I want to stay in his arms. And I want to talk through my thoughts about the shop, but I’m scared he might think they’re stupid, not worthy of consideration.

  “Okay.” He takes a step away, and I hear him exhale harshly before he turns around, grabs me by the hand, and pulls me into another tight hug. With his chin resting on my head, he says, “I had fun last night.”

  “I did too,” I admit, feeling those butterflies Dakota was talking about.

  He squeezes me and then takes off, giving me a brief wave before exiting the cottage.

  A large smile erupts over my face as I watch him walk away.

  Oh no . . . this isn’t good at all.

  It’s happening. I think I’m crushing on Kilty McGrumpyshire.

  “Hey, lasses,” Isla says, walking into the coffee house with a basket of shortbread and Dundee cake. God bless Dakota for snagging the baker in town. “I brought you some replenishments.”

  “You didn’t have to do—”

  “You’re a doll,” I say, cutting Dakota off and taking the basket. “I was craving shortbread this morning after my walk.”

  “Did you do the Hairy Coo Footpath?” Isla asks, leaning against the counter near Dakota.

  “I did, and I love it so much. Those hairy coos are adorable. Might be my favorite part of Scotland.”

  “Oh, Rowan isn’t?” Isla teases with a wink, making Dakota laugh out loud.

  “Did you hear he stayed the night?” Dakota says.

  Isla nods. “I did. Caught him doin’ the walk of shame on the way to the bakery.”

  “There’s no walk of shame. Nothing happened. We just passed out in my bed. Trust me, if something happened, my lady parts would know about it. Let’s just say it’s been quite a long time since I’ve done the walk of shame.”

  “Interesting. He looked like he got some last night,” Isla says, which piques my interest.

  “Is that so?” I lean my chin into my hand and bat my eyelashes at her from over the counter. “Please, tell me more.”

  She chuckles. “He was smiling, and it’s not very often Rowan smiles.”

  I press my hand to my chest, and I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. “I did that to him. I made him smile.”

  “Aye, something did, and I’m guessing if he spent the night at your place, you played a role.”

  “He made us breakfast and did the dishes,” Dakota says. “He was actually really sweet. Didn’t even ask, just started taking care of us.”

  “That’s Rowan for you,” Isla says wistfully. “He might have a hard exterior, but he’s quite gentle, and he takes care of his own. I’m starting to guess that he’s seeing you as part of his small inner circle. You two are lucky.”

  That’s a good way to put it, because I feel lucky. Rowan seems like the kind of person who doesn’t bring many people into his life, but when he does, he does everything he can to keep them in and take care of them. It’s evident in the way he speaks of Isla and her need to be asked out for a change, or in how he steered me away so she and Dakota could have a night alone. He’s considerate, and I’m wondering if my annoyance with him earlier blinded me to that.

  “I can tell he’s a good man. I think Bonnie should go for him,” Dakota says with a knowing look.

  “I think so too,” Isla says as both of their gazes fall on me.

  “Thank you for your opinion, ladies, but I think you two should just focus on yourselves for now. Which reminds me, Dakota, shouldn’t you be asking Isla—?”

  “Isla, why don’t I walk you out?” Dakota cuts me off before I embarrass her.

  “Oh aye.” She gives me a wave. “Enjoy the basket. Don’t eat it too fast.”

  I shove a shortbread cookie in my mouth. “I won’t,” I say as it melts on my tongue. “I know how to pace myself.” I pick up another cookie and shove it in my mouth. So good.

  So freaking good.

  Together, they walk out of the coffee shop, and, being the nosy friend that I am, I tiptoe up to the door, ready to eavesdrop. Just as I reach the threshold and lean an ear out, a large body blocks me.

  My mouth still full of shortbread, I slowly move my eyes up the broad frame and find a curious pair of green eyes looking down at me.

  “Care to tell me what you’re doing?”

  “Eavesdropping,” I say as crumbs fall from my mouth. “Care to join me?”

  Rowan nudges my shoulder, moving me out of the way. “No. Give them space.”

  “But what if she’s doing it wrong?”

  “She won’t.”

  “But—”

  “Give them space,” he says a little more sternly.

  “Ugh.” I back away. “You’re taking all the fun out of my friendship. We intrude on each other’s lives. That’s what we do—it’s what keeps us alive.”

  “Aye, well, not this time.” He runs a hand down my shoulder, and his large palm connects with mine—which distracts me just long enough for him to pull me deeper into the coffee shop, where we both take a seat at one of the tables. “What do you need help with?” He releases my hand, and I kind of want to ask him if he’d hold it again.

  “I need help listening in on my friend.”

  “Bonnie.”

  “What?” I smile widely at him.

  “Let them be.”

  “You’re really annoying.”

  “So you’ve told me. Now, unless you actually need help with something, I’m going to leave.” He starts to stand, but I quickly grab his hand and tug him back down.

  “No, I do need your help.” I nod toward the coffee maker. “Can I get you some ordinary coffee?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

  “Okay.” I cross one leg over the other. I catch his gaze land on my freshly shaved legs for a brief moment before they travel up to my face, sending a shiver of lust straight up my spine.

  One look—that’s all it takes where this man is concerned.

  One look, and I’m ready to bounce up and down on his lap.

  I clear my throat. “Have you seen the reviews for the coffee shop on the tour bus websites?”

  “There are reviews?” he asks, looking confused.

  “Yes. All the tour bus companies provide information for each stop, and in Corsekelly, almost all the reviews say not to bother with the coffee shop because there’s nothing special about it.”

  “That’s not . . .” His voice fades as he looks around the empty space. “Well, it wasn’t always like this.”

  “But it is now, and something needs to be done. We’ve been here for over two weeks, and I think I’ve served coffee a dozen times. We’ve had days where the only visitor was Fergus.”

  “My maw couldn’t take it all on. It was too much.” He runs his hand down his face. “Still don’t understand why my da retired. I really think . . .” Rowan bites the side of his mouth. “Hell, I think my da might be sick, and he’s not telling me. He insisted he was just tired and they had enough in savings and retirement for him to be done. But it was too hard for my maw to let go. She loves being in town, talking to everyone, but she doesn’t know how to keep up or how to create any grand ideas to actually improve the shop.” He chuckles to himself. “The only grand idea she had was to blast the job advert on social media, and look what that did.” He nods at me. “Brought two nosy and irritating Americans into town.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment, because I know for a fact that I’m growing on you.” I fluff my hair.

  “Aye, and how do you know that?” he says, nudging my leg playfully.

  “Uh, do you not remember the hug before you left the cottage, confessing you had fun with me?”

  “I think I was still drunk.” He smirks, and I melt.

  “Nice try, Grumpyshire. You’re totally into this.” I motion my hand up and down my body and watch his teeth tug on his lower lip while he takes me in.

  Dear Jesus, please help me keep my shirt on right now.

  His eyes return to mine. “So, what’s your idea?” he asks. “I know you have one brewing in that head of yours.”

  “I was hoping we could overhaul the coffee house. Freshen it up, bring back the butteries, and add more coffee choices—real ones. Make it cozy in here, a place where tourists want to stop in. We could sell merchandise that centers on the Boaby Stone and Fergus, the things that make this town unique. Even the hairy coos. We don’t even have any pamphlets that direct tourists where to go. You could do so much—like a town bingo. You’d distribute the cards to the tour buses ahead of time, and in the half hour they’re here, there’d be a few things the tourists have to do, have to visit, and then they’d get a free shirt or something. I don’t know, I’m just spitballing here, but there’s so much potential, especially with the popularity of Iron Crowns, which I saw online—just signed on for three more seasons.”

  He scratches the side of his jaw. “What happens when you go back home? You’ll be leaving my maw to handle it all on her own?”

  “Who says I’m leaving? Maybe I like Corsekelly and want to live here. Maybe I’ll find a strapping lad who sweeps me off my feet. Someone like Leith or Lachlan. Or maybe both of them. I don’t mind shacking up with two hot twins who prance around town in kilts and lift logs as their workout.”

  “They couldn’t handle you.”

  “Oh?” I cross my arms over my chest. “And you think you’re the authority on who can handle me?”

  “Aye.” The intensity of his gaze nearly overwhelms me.

  I sigh. Now is not the time to get into another heated battle. “If I do end up leaving, I’ll be sure to help your mom find a reliable employee. Hell, she brought in two Americans—I’m pretty sure we could find someone who wouldn’t mind staying in a storybook cottage in Scotland’s cutest town. Not a hard sell, Rowy.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he says quickly, and I chuckle.

  “Come on.” I nudge his foot. “Think about how this would help your mom, your parents. Maybe there’s something they always wanted when it came to the coffee house. We could make it happen.”

  He mulls it over as he takes in the shop, really giving it a good look. “It is shite in here,” he admits, which makes me laugh again. “I remember when this place was full of life.” He looks at me. “Why do you want to do this?”

  “Truth?”

  “Aye.”

  “I relate to this coffee house more than I care to admit. Once had all the potential in the world, but over time, lost its luster . . . its purpose. Making it shine will give me something to do, something that actually makes me feel like I’m contributing rather than just living a mundane life.”

  “You have purpose, Bonnie,” he says, and even though it’s a sweet statement, it rings false.

  “I thought I did.” I shake my head. “It’s been hard to find lately. I feel like this will give me purpose, something to focus on and a way to apply myself. I need . . .” I let out a heavy breath. “I need to feel like I’m useful, Rowan. Right now, I couldn’t think any less of myself.”

  “Hey.” He lifts my chin so I see the crinkle in his brow. “We all have our low moments. Trust me. Not all of us are living our truth. Not completely.”

  “Are you talking about yourself?” I ask, and it feels like some barrier between us just broke from this one confession.

  “Aye.” He looks away and stands from his chair, pulling on the back of his neck. “The plan was to leave Corsekelly, to do something better, something I really wanted, but that plan changed in an instant.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  He’s opening his mouth to answer just as Dakota comes barreling through the door. “Isla said yes!” She tosses her arms up in the air and dances in place. “Oh my God, she said yes.”

  Terrible, terrible timing, Dakota.

  But, oh, I’m happy for my friend. Really excited, actually.

  “That’s great,” Rowan says, giving me a quick look before patting Dakota on the shoulder.

  “Thank you for encouraging me.” Dakota wraps him up in a hug and squeezes him tight. When she pulls away, she turns to me with a grin. “I see what you’re talking about, all those muscles.”