“Do I need to show you my YouTube history? I don’t even need to search them out anymore—they just show up on the suggested feed. But do you know what really chaps my ass?” I lean forward conspiratorially. “It’s when these YouTube people compile some of the same power-washing videos. I’ve seen them already—we want new material.” I shake my fist in the air.

  “I think I’m going to take back the other night.”

  “Can’t,” I say with a smile. “Already had my mouth on your dick, and that means I claimed you.” His eyes seductively narrow as he shifts in his chair. “Oh, you like that, huh? Me talking about having your c—”

  “Watch it, Bonnie, this teasing can go both ways.”

  My mouth snaps shut. Based on past experience, I’m assuming he could do some real damage.

  “Anyway.” I clear my throat, tapping my pen on my notebook. “Power washing and then some fresh paint on the walls. I think we stick with the beautiful white in here, but freshen it up, and the red door as well. I love the colors in here, but they’ve dulled over time. And do you think we could add shutters to the windows and some window boxes? Is that something you know how to do?”

  He nods. “Aye.”

  “Will it take you long?”

  “Few hours.”

  “Really? Gah, okay. I think it will dress up the outside and make it more inviting. And as for the inside, we need some new tables. These”—I tap on the table—“are firewood. Is there a place around here where we can get some tables and chairs?”

  “Kyle of Lochalsh.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Quick fifteen-minute drive to the west. Larger town, has a woodworker there. Hamish and Alasdair both bought their tables and chairs from there, and reasonably priced. Maw’s been wanting to purchase some, but Da said only once these tables fall apart.”

  “Well, looks like I’m taking an ax to them, because they need to fall apart.” I make a note in my notebook. “Would you be willing to take me over there? I don’t ever want to drive on these roads myself again.”

  “Aye, I can take you. We can go eat at the Waterside Restaurant after.”

  I pause, look up. “Are you . . . are you asking me out?”

  With that devilish smirk, he leans over the table and pinches my chin. “Aye, lass. I am. Are you saying yes?”

  “I don’t know . . . ,” I tease.

  He chuckles, leans over, and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. “Offer stands for as long as it takes to be accepted.”

  My oh my, he’s the charmer. He knows exactly how to make me weak in the knees.

  “I would love to go out with you, Rowan.”

  “Good. Wednesday night.”

  “Okay. After we close tonight, I would like to power wash the floors. Can you bring over the machine?”

  “You’re not power washing.”

  “This is not up for discussion, Rowan.” I stab my pen to the table. “I am power washing, and then tomorrow we can paint.”

  “We?” He lifts a brow.

  “Yes. We. I’m going to ask Dakota to ask Isla as well. Think you can ask the Murdach twins?”

  “What’s in it for me?” He taps his fingers on the table, casual, looking as handsome as ever.

  “Our date Wednesday night.”

  “You’re the one who wanted a date.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t want to take me out,” I scoff. “You’re looking for a reprise of the other night.”

  “I’m looking for a lot more than that, and I’m not talking physically.”

  Oy. This man.

  “When you say things like that, you give me chills and butterflies at the same time,” I admit. “Makes me feel really special.”

  “’Cause you are, lass.” He nods toward my paper. “What else you got?”

  How he can just bounce around topics like that, unfazed, is impressive. My mind is still running through last night, and he’s just chugging along through the conversation.

  Gathering my wits, I ask, “Is that a yes to the Murdach twins?”

  “Aye.”

  “Thank you.” I slip my hand in his, and he holds it tight. “I found an espresso machine online that’s for sale in Inverness. It’s a year old, and the coffee house is going out of business—a Starbucks took over.” Rowan rolls his eyes. “They’re selling everything they can, and they said they’re putting the machine on hold for me. Dakota was going to go pick it up with Isla, and then we’re going to start testing new drinks. Nothing too fancy—just enough to entice more people into the shop. There’s also a local tea brand I’ve seen around town that I would love to carry in the shop, to offer something to customers who don’t drink coffee. They carry a Scottish breakfast, Earl Grey, and a Highland blend that is positively delightful.”

  “Good idea.”

  His approval sends a surge of confidence through me.

  “As for food . . .” His jaw ticks, his eyes narrow. “Would you help me—?”

  “No,” he says, his voice stern. What is the deal?

  “Rowan.”

  “I’m not baking for the shop.”

  “I wasn’t asking you to—if you’d let me finish,” I say, parroting his words from the other day. “Teach me how to make butteries—oh, and maybe that cherry cake and tattie scones? I’m pretty good at following directions, and since we open up at ten, I could wake up early—now that I’m used to the time difference—and start baking for the day.” When he doesn’t say anything, I squeeze his hand. “Please, Rowan. Food is going to make a huge difference, and it won’t compete with Isla. I think if we have three solid options, we’ll do just fine, especially since we’ll be more of a stop for the tourists. We’d offer just enough for them.”

  He drags his hand over his face. “I haven’t made butteries in years.”

  “I’ll bake with my top off, or even completely naked . . . just an apron.”

  That piques his interest. He raises a brow. “You’ll let me teach you, naked?”

  “Yes. However you want me—that’s how I’ll stay the entire time. And if you want a break, to do . . . whatever,” I say in a seductive voice, “then, we take a break.”

  “Sex and baking.”

  “Aye,” I say with a wink, which makes him chuckle and then blow out a long breath.

  “You drive a hard bargain, lass.”

  “Enticing, though, yeah?”

  He slowly nods, wetting his lips. “Especially since I haven’t seen you completely naked yet.”

  “Your fault, not mine. I stripped you down. You’re the one who only pushed up my shirt.”

  “Regretting that mistake now.” He scratches the side of his face, his nails scraping along his thick scruff. “Deal.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, excited.

  “Aye, but you wear nothing but an apron.”

  “Done.” Eeep. Excited—for many reasons—I make another note in my notebook. “That leaves us with merchandise. Dakota is going to design new signs, and we would love to come up with a fun name for the coffee shop, since everything else in town has one. Then we can make and sell merchandise based on what we call the shop. We can easily play off the Boaby Stone, Fergus, or the hairy coo . . .” An idea pops into my head. “Oh my God, what if we called the shop the Hairy Coo Coffee Company? We could hang cute black-and-white photos of the cows on the walls, make some hairy coo–themed merchandise, and then direct people to the footpath, so it gets more visitors than just locals.”

  He twists his lips to the side, considering the idea. “You know, I really think Maw and Da would like that. They’ve always loved the hairy coo, and they were a driving force behind the path being made in the first place.”

  “Really? Then it’s meant to be. I bet Dakota could make an adorable sign with the ‘Hairy Coo’ front and center.”

  He nods slowly, a smile playing at his lips. “I really like the idea.”

  That little smile, the excitement in his voice. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much pride in my entire life, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel . . . useful.

  “What are you doing?”

  I startle, dropping my phone on the counter. With a smirk, Rowan picks it up and glances at the screen. He raises a brow as he shows it to me, as if I don’t know what’s on it.

  “Power-washing videos?”

  “Don’t judge!” I snatch my phone away and put it in my back pocket. Once we closed, I moved the tables and chairs outside. Earlier, Rowan said he would take care of them by literally chopping them into firewood. I told him I didn’t care what he did with them, but if he did decide to chop them up, I was going to need a slo-mo video of that, of course with his shirt off. From the look in his eyes, I think he’s going to deliver. We decided to close the shop for the next few days while we do small renovations. Pretty sure the public isn’t going to miss us much.

  “Did you bring it?” I ask, rubbing my hands together.

  “Yes, but you’re not—”

  “Balderdash, I’m doing it.” Pushing past him, I walk over to the door, where I spot the hefty machine. Beautiful in all its splendor, a knight of destroying grime. A fighter of fungus. A true champion of cleanliness. The one, the only . . . the power washer. “Ryobi 2300, nice choice,” I say, taking in the robust beast. “Does it come with the bonus turbo nozzle?”

  “It’s disturbing how much you know about power washers.”

  “Does it?” I ask, needing to know the answer.

  “The nozzle’s attached,” Rowan says, sounding slightly terrified.

  “Beautiful. And you hooked it up to the hose already. This is a dream.” I pick up the metal spray wand and test the weight.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Bonnie.”

  “From what I’ve read, you just press this button.” The power washer turns on with a soothing hum. “And then—” I pull on the handle and blast water out of the nozzle. The small kickback startles me. I back into the doorframe of the shop, flinging my arm out—and spraying Rowan directly in the crotch.

  Uh-oh.

  Man.

  Down.

  “Oh God.” I drop the spray handle and run over to his body, curled on the floor. “Rowan, are you okay?”

  “Told you . . . not to,” he says, breathing hard and cradling his crotch.

  “Did it . . . did I . . . ?” Oh God. “Did I spray your balls off?”

  He lets out a dry cough and shakes his head. “Nah, baws are in place, but you definitely took out a few of the cadets.”

  “Sperm?” I ask, rubbing his back.

  “Yes, Bonnie . . . sperm.”

  “Hopefully they were going to be slow swimmers anyway.” I pat his back, and my eyes stray to the power washer. Even in my guilt, I can’t help a tug of longing. “I hope you know, I truly wish the best for your crotch at this moment, but I’m going to need you to get up so I can go to town on these floors.”

  He glances up at me from his fetal position. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. I can feel it in my bones that I’m a power-washing wizard.” I tug on his arm. “Let’s get you up on the counter, out of range, and you can watch over me while you nurse your boaby and baws.”

  “I don’t think anything is out of range for you,” he groans, slowly getting up.

  I keep a steady grip on him as he hobbles to the counter and hoists himself up. “I wasn’t prepared for the wand to jump like that. Knowing the kind of power that electric puppy is packing, I’ll be in a properly prepared stance now.” I pat him on the leg and am moving to walk away when he snags my arm and spins me toward him.

  He kisses me quickly. “You might have destroyed any possible boners for today, but hearing your confidence . . . well, it very well might restore what you just destroyed.”

  “Is my confidence a turn-on?”

  “Your confidence makes me happy, Bonnie,” he says seriously. “Makes me believe you’re starting to find that purpose, and that’s what matters.”

  Taken aback, I say, “Wow, McGrumpyshire, you’re about to get yourself laid.”

  He groans, shifting to the side. “Wait until tomorrow.”

  Chuckling, I give him one more kiss and then go back to the power washer and pick up the wand. “Should I start in the corner?”

  “Aye, and then work all the dirt toward the door.”

  “Okay. I got this.”

  With a deep breath, I get into my stance, hold the wand with a good stiff arm, and then pull back on the trigger. I get a small kickback, but this time I’m prepared and hold strong, immediately blasting grime off the old wood floors. I perform a spot test, like all good power washers, no more than a few square inches, but as the water blasts against the hardwood floors, I immediately see how much this is going to change the look of the shop. When I release the trigger, letting the water slosh for a second and clear out, I lean forward and marvel at the stunning oak floor that’s been here this whole time.

  “Rowan, it’s beautiful.”

  “Is it? I honestly can’t remember at this point.”

  “It is, and the power washer doesn’t seem to pull up any of the wood or stain. Shall I continue?”

  “You’re apparently the expert. Go ahead.”

  Excitement pulses through me. I get into position . . . and blast.

  “Bonnie, oh my gosh,” Dakota says, walking into the coffee shop for the first time since I cleaned the floors. She had her date with Isla last night, so while she was out, I took care of business. Honestly, I don’t know which was more satisfying: having Rowan between my legs or washing all the dirt off these floors.

  Of course, I would never tell him that.

  Don’t want to give the man a complex.

  He was amazing the other night and all . . . but . . . power washing . . .

  “They look brand new.”

  “Right? I’m so pleased. I made Rowan take a few photos.” I pull out my phone and show her the pictures Rowan reluctantly took of me wielding the washer while he nursed his manhood.

  “You look like a total boss.”

  “Right? I made this one my Instagram profile pic.”

  “How could you not?”

  Just then, Isla and the twins come into the coffee house. All three of them stop and take in the floors.

  “Holy crap,” Leith says first.

  “Wow,” Lachlan adds. “We need to do this to our floors.”

  Isla walks up to Dakota and slips her hand in hers. “You did a wonderful job, Bonnie.”

  “Thanks.” I beam with pride. “It was pretty easy and extremely satisfying. I’m more than happy to do it for anyone else who might need something power washed. I think I’ve found a new hobby.”

  “Just keep your crotch covered,” Rowan says, walking into the shop behind them.

  “Yeah, Bonnie told me she blasted you in the balls,” Dakota says. “Are you okay?”

  “Nothing’s been damaged, but I did feel like I took a classic football toss to the old lad.”

  “Rowan told us about it this morning,” Leith says. “Glad I didn’t follow through with asking you out, or else that could have been me.”

  “As if she would have said yes,” Lachlan says.

  “She showed interest.”

  “Sorry to tell ye, but she only had interest in me, lads,” Rowan says, walking over and pressing his lips to mine. Soft, yet firm. Best kisser, hands down.

  “Full of yourself much?” I ask, even though he’s exactly right.

  “Nay, I just know infatuation when I see it.” He winks and then nods to the door. “Leith, Lachlan, grab the paint supplies while we lay down the paint cloths. We don’t want anything to mess up these floors.”

  My oh my, look at Rowan taking action. The bossiness is kind of a turn-on.

  Bossy McGrumpyshire . . . has a nice ring to it.

  While the twins are out, the rest of us get to work on the cloth drapes, lining them up with the baseboards and taping them down. “Heard you two were snogging last night,” Rowan says to Isla and Dakota with a grin.

  What? I snap my head toward them.

  They snogged?

  As in, they had their first kiss?

  Why wasn’t I informed of this monumental occasion?

  “Wait, you had your first kiss last night and you didn’t tell me?” I try to hide the hurt, but it’s heavy in my voice. Dakota and I tell each other everything, and a first kiss with a Scottish lass is definite must-need information.

  “We technically kissed on Sunday.” Isla winces.

  “Sunday?” I shout. “When? I was with you the whole day, Dakota.”

  She glances around the shop, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, you know those flowers I picked when we were out exploring that field? I brought them over to Isla when I went on that walk after we got back. We kissed then.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” I roar.

  “You’ve been a little occupied.” She nods toward Rowan.

  I push Rowan out of the way. “Uh, that’s not a reason to not tell me. Your first kiss is way more important than that irritable doof.” He grumbles something next to me, but I ignore him, turning my attention to Isla. “How was it? Did my girl win you over? I kissed her once, and she had the softest lips. Was it a good kiss?”

  Isla smiles. “Aye, it was a very good kiss.”

  “God.” I toss open a drop cloth. “And then you made out. Where did you make out?”

  “Isla’s place,” Leith says, walking in with Lachlan, their arms full of paint cans, pans, and rollers.

  “Can we not air out all the details?” Isla says.

  “Why do they know all the details?” Dakota asks.

  “Yeah”—I plant my hands on my hip—“why do they know all the details?”

  Cautiously, Isla looks between her brothers and Dakota. “They were perverts and looked through the windows.” Isla squeezes Dakota’s hand. “I promise I didn’t tell them.”

  “Okay,” Dakota says quietly, and they exchange a look, the kind of look I’d exchange with my best friend. The kind of look that tells everyone around them that they are close enough to communicate without words.

  And that’s not something I like very much.

  Is that why she didn’t say something to me? Because they’re not sharing their relationship with many people? Though, apparently, news gets around.