I get keeping it quiet, but why wouldn’t she want to share with me?

  “Looked like a good snogging session,” Lachlan says, clearly not reading the room as he starts pouring paint into paint pans.

  “Can you shut up?” Isla snaps.

  “I mean, I can, but I don’t want to.”

  “Enough with the snogging talk,” Rowan cuts in. “We need to focus on the painting.” Rowan to the rescue, like always. “We have to do the ceiling, moldings, and walls. The only things not getting painted in here are the wood beams on the ceiling and the wood floors. Please be careful to keep those clean. And pair up. Leith and Lachlan, take the ceiling. I’ll work on the right side with Bonnie, and you girls cover the left. I’m buying drinks if we get this done by eight.”

  That encourages the boys, who quickly get to work, while Dakota and Isla start on their side. I watch from across the room as they murmur to each other, laughing and smiling. I feel a pang of jealousy.

  When Dakota was with Isabella, I never saw her act the way she’s acting now—content and carefree. That should have been clue number one that Isabella wasn’t the girl for her. But seeing her with Isla, it almost feels like—and I know this might sound stupid—but it almost feels like my best friend is being stolen away from me. I know I encouraged her to go for it, but still . . . a girl can feel left out.

  With Isabella, she told me everything. From every hand hold, every look, every kiss, I was there, step by step, helping her realize that it’s okay to like a girl. It’s okay to come out of your shell and realize exactly who you are.

  And now, with Isla, I selfishly expected to be involved every step of the way as well. But, sadly, I’m starting to see Dakota grow wings and pull away. Going to talk to Isla alone, the double date that turned into a single one, and now this.

  It’s almost as if . . . she doesn’t need me anymore, and that strikes me hard, because, if anything, Dakota gave me an ounce of purpose while fighting through these unknown feelings I’ve absorbed.

  Now what?

  Doubt and loneliness start to creep into the back of my mind.

  I’m tempted to ask Rowan if I can switch partners, but that’s just an overreaction. Right? I’m overreacting. I’m thrown off that everyone knew about their kiss and I didn’t. I’ve known Dakota forever. We’ve known every little thing about each other’s lives, and being left out of this important factoid—her kissing her second girl ever—stings, for sure, but I’ll get over it. She looks happy, and I don’t want to make a big deal over something that will probably seem so trivial to her.

  In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter.

  What matters is Dakota’s happiness. And with one glance in their direction, I can tell she’s truly finding her place here in Corsekelly.

  Deep breaths, Bonnie. It’s fine. You’re fine.

  “Hey, you all right?” Rowan asks.

  “Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. Just, uh . . . thinking.” I tack on a smile, but I think we both know it’s fake.

  It’s fine. It will all be okay.

  You’re not losing your friend.

  Stop overreacting and have fun.

  I take a deep breath, grab a roller from Rowan, and head to the wall. Before we start, he leans in and kisses me on the side of the head. “Date tomorrow.”

  That brings a smile to my face. “Are you going to dress up?”

  “Are you?”

  “Naturally. I plan on dressing up under my clothes as well.” I wiggle my brows, and he laughs.

  “Dressin’ down would be better.” He wiggles his brows back.

  “If you expect me to wear a dress with no underwear, you’re out of your mind.”

  “Worth a shot.” He dots my nose with some paint and then gets to work.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ROWAN

  Power-washed balls: Check.

  Date with power-washing queen: Check.

  Nervous.

  Excited.

  Hopeful.

  It’s all I can say about my upcoming date with Bonnie.

  I couldn’t sleep last night.

  As rain pelted against my bedroom window, I kept thinking about Callum and what he would have thought of Bonnie. There’s no doubt they would have become good friends. They both love driving me crazy, testing me, challenging me. They would most likely have become best friends within a week.

  And that makes me fucking sad, which is why I’m out in my shed at four in the morning, doors wide open so I can watch the rain pepper the already-saturated ground.

  Callum was keen on my pottery. Massively so, actually, and he was always badgering me to do something with my talent. I can still hear the awe in his voice when I showed him the very first bowl I made. It was wonky, uneven, and not much of a bowl, but damn it if Callum didn’t use it almost every day when he was baking. He couldn’t fathom how a piece of wet clay could be formed into something so beautiful.

  Clay already prepped, I turn on my wheel. The hum of the motor fills my small space as I dip my wet fingers into the soggy clay, laying the groundwork for a mug.

  You have a talent, Rowan, he said. Use it. Why stay here where no one can appreciate it? Build up your stock and move to Edinburgh, where it’s swimming in tourists looking to take home a piece of Scotland.

  And that was the plan.

  I was going to help bake for a few more years until Callum was fully ready to take over the shop, and then I was going to do something for myself.

  That’s what I told my da I was going to do.

  And that was the start of the rift between the two of us.

  I’d thought he’d get over it with time, but he never did, and once Callum passed away . . . well, we haven’t been able to recover. Da keeps pushing me further and further away.

  The breeze gusts outside, sending a mist of rain in my direction. I welcome it as I sit under the single dim light in my shed. That’s all I turned on. It’s all I wanted.

  With a sigh, I clear my head of the past. Needing to focus on something positive, I work on the clay in front of me, slowly raising the sides, hollowing it out into the shape I drew this morning.

  Something that would fit Bonnie’s small hands but also leave plenty of room for the coffee she needs to function in the morning.

  After our conversation about the shop and all her ideas, I knew right away I needed to make her something to reflect this new journey she’s on. The idea came to me this morning. A simple mug with a cinch in its waist, a flare at the top, and a hairy coo stamped on the side.

  Turning toward the rain, feeling the weight of it pound against the ground, I smile to myself.

  “What do you think, Callum? Think she’ll like it?”

  Another breeze picks up, and I smile, realizing just how content I feel in this moment. Clay between my fingers, my brother by my side, with thoughts of Bonnie dripping through my mind.

  The pain and the anxiety over my parents all wash away with the rain, making me think that maybe things are about to change for me. Maybe this is the start of something new.

  Something truly special . . .

  I check my hair one last time in the rearview mirror of my pickup and then open the driver’s side door. I don’t have many fancy clothes, but I did find a pair of barely worn dark-washed jeans in my drawers and paired them with a light-green button-up shirt. I made sure to style my hair and spritz on some cologne. I know she likes my scruff, so I didn’t shave, hoping to rub it against her soft skin later.

  With a deep breath, I head to the cottage and knock on the front door. I know Dakota and Isla are walking around the loch right now. I caught them strolling and holding hands while I drove over here, so I’m not expecting to run into anyone but Bonnie.

  I couldn’t help but notice a glimmer of jealousy in Bonnie’s eyes yesterday at Isla and Dakota’s strong connection. I considered asking her about it but decided at the last minute not to. I didn’t want to dive into anything that could make her uncomfortable, even though she seems to have no problem asking me all sorts of cringe-inducing questions.

  But yesterday was different. Her usual confidence disappeared, and she seemed so fragile, almost embarrassed that she didn’t know Dakota and Isla had kissed, and I didn’t want to elevate that embarrassment. So I dropped it.

  Hopefully, after we left the pub, they worked out whatever awkwardness they were going through.

  Footsteps approach inside the cottage.

  The door opens.

  And fucking shite.

  My breath is stolen at the sight of Bonnie.

  Dressed in a pale-yellow dress that hugs her curves and highlights her breasts, she smiles brightly at me. Her hair hangs over her shoulders in curls, her eyes are devastatingly piercing, and her lips are painted glossy pink. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.

  “Wow, lass.” I smooth my hand over my mouth. “You look stunning.”

  She sways cutely. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

  I move in and loop my arms around her, my hands falling to the spot just above her ass. Thanks to the heels she’s wearing, I don’t have to bend down too far to kiss her. What I wouldn’t give to just push her through this door and have my way with her—but based on the number of times she’s asked me if I’d be taking her out, I need to make sure we actually leave this cottage.

  Aye . . . my girl.

  That’s something I never expected. Before Bonnie came to Corsekelly, I was resigned to the idea that I was stuck in the town I grew up in, doing a job I hated to appease others. But now it feels like there might be possibility for something else. Something more.

  That is, if she wants to stay in Scotland. Something I try to not think about. There’s plenty of time to see if this goes anywhere, plenty of time to convince her to stay if it does.

  “God, you smell amazing,” she says, pressing her lips to mine one last time, her hands gripping my shirt tightly.

  “Thank you.” I find her hand and walk her to my pickup, where I open the door for her. When she’s situated, I grab the seat belt and hand it to her. “Buckle up, lass.” I wink and round the truck, hopping in on my side. “You haven’t driven to the Inner Sound yet, right?”

  She shakes her head. “No, Dakota and I went northeast on our exploration. Isla gave us directions to a beautiful spot looking over a river valley.”

  “Aye, well, you’re in for a pretty drive.” I turn the music up just enough so she can hear it. I’ve chosen one of my favorite Scottish bands, Tartanium, for our short road trip.

  “Wow, really setting the mood, aren’t you?” she says over the soft hum of a fiddle taking a solo right before the drumbeat kicks in.

  I smile at her. “Just trying to give you the full Scottish experience. Is it working?”

  “I think the full Scottish experience will come later. Don’t you think?”

  “Aye, if you’re lucky,” I say, laughing.

  “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

  We spent a good hour at Campbell’s Carpentry picking out tables. There were two sets Bonnie couldn’t decide on, so we opted to mix and match them, which will give the space a more eclectic feel. With the new tables and chairs ordered, a purchase I know Maw will be happy about, we walked through Kyle for a wee bit, spent some time around the waterfront, and now we’re sitting in the Waterside Restaurant, our food ordered and drinks on the table. Smiles stretch over both of our faces as we stare at each other in the dim lighting.

  “Who were the celebrities you assisted back in the States?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

  “My first job, I was assistant to an executive manager for a production company. The guy fired me because I wouldn’t sit on his lap when he asked me to.”

  Anger rolls over me. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He said he could really help further my career if I helped him out . . .”

  “What the fuck is wrong with men?” I take a sip of my water. I didn’t opt for a beer because I’m driving, but I’m coming down with the urge to drink. “I hope you told him to fuck off.”

  “I did. And then he screamed that I would never work in the industry again. Which wasn’t true, because, as you can imagine, there are a lot of awful people who need assistants, and some of them don’t care if you have a reference.”

  “I could see that.” Growing serious, I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “You’re very strong for making sure he didn’t take advantage of you.”

  “Thank you,” she says quietly. “Looking back now, I think I grew to respect myself a bit more.” She smiles to herself. “You know, I never looked at it that way until just now.”

  “That you grew to respect yourself?”

  She nods. “Yeah.” Her eyes connect with mine. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me, lass. You’re the brave one.”

  Hell, the way she’s looking at me right now, like I’m some goddamn hero, it puffs my chest while simultaneously twisting my stomach into nervous knots. Doesn’t she realize how much strength and courage it takes to stand up to someone like her old boss? It’s a horrible and far too common situation, but the fact that she recognized her worth in that moment makes me want to plant myself firmly by her side.

  “Who were the other two?” I ask.

  “The second person I assisted was a basketball player’s wife, actually. She was pretty nice, but it was her rabid troll of a sister who was the problem. She accused me of hitting on the basketball player, which of course wasn’t true. For starters, he wasn’t my type—not much into the blonds.” She winks. “But I’m also more professional than that. I valued my job too much, especially after losing the first one. But alas, the wife didn’t believe me, so I was fired—yet again.”

  “Sounded like a toxic environment anyway.”

  “I did like Lisa, but . . . ugh, now that I think about it, she was the one who introduced us to Isabella, Dakota’s ex. Isabella was working for one of Lisa’s collaborators. So yeah, ‘toxic’ is the right way to put it. We did have some fun times, but the fun didn’t outweigh the bad—not even close. Plus, Lisa was trying to launch her own makeup line and had me test the products. Oh boy, the number of times my lips swelled from her lipsticks is too high to count.”

  “Why was she starting her own makeup line?”

  “She was on a reality TV show, Wives of Basketball Players, and she was trying to capitalize on her fame. She teamed up with a shitty company that didn’t actually care about the product, just the sales, so of course it was awful. I don’t think she sold many because of the whole lip-swelling issue. She tried to pass it off as a tingle, but it was done.”

  “Karma.” I wink at her.

  “Exactly, and the last person who fired me was the best by far. Daloria Day.”

  “Oh damn, I’ve heard of her. Isn’t she in that popular TV drama?”

  “Yup, portrayed as America’s sweetheart, but she was a pill to work with. I knew that going in and I was prepared. I took notes on everything, made sure to never make a wrong step, and I didn’t. But then a costar she was crushing on said hi to me. She was furious that he gave me the time of day and had never done the same to her. So, she said I didn’t make her coffee right and fired me on the spot.”

  “Isn’t that ironic,” I say. “Given what you’re doing now.”

  “Orders haven’t been super complicated at the shop.”

  “Doesn’t matter—you get it right every time.”

  She laughs, just as our food is delivered. “Oh wow, this looks amazing.”

  Together, we ordered the seafood platter, and it’s just as big as I remembered, piled high with crab legs, lobster, smoked salmon, oysters, clams, tatties, and lemon wedges. Holy hell, my mouth is watering. I can’t remember the last time I came to Kyle, or treated someone out to a nice meal, but I’m glad I asked Bonnie—for many reasons.

  I hold up an oyster. “You should really eat all of these.”

  She quirks her brow. “Do you really think I need an aphrodisiac to get frisky tonight?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I could have stayed in the minute you showed up to my door.”

  “Aye . . . me too, lass.”

  “This isn’t going to work.” Bonnie shakes her head and slaps her napkin on the table. “We’re going to need to leave, actually. I’m going to ask Dakota to come pick me up so I don’t have to ride back with you.”

  “Could ye be any more dramatic?”

  “Dramatic?” Her voice rises before she leans in and whispers, “You’ve never seen one Star Wars movie. How is that even something? Is that a Scotland thing?”

  “No, I just never felt the need to watch them. Not a sci-fi person.”

  “It’s not—” She presses a hand to her forehead. “It’s not really sci-fi. I mean, yeah, it’s in space, but it’s a space opera. There’s drama and love and lasers and sassy droids and hairy seven-foot-tall beasts that speak a language everyone understands for some reason. And all the hidden identities, ugh, and the new ones, a little bitch of a supreme leader who might make you laugh when you’re not supposed to because of how whiny he is. Talk about daddy issues. And strong females. I don’t think people give Princess Leia enough credit, but she’s one badass leader and, frankly, the glue that holds everyone together.”

  I stare at her blankly. “Sassy droids?”

  “Ugh,” she groans. “You’re killing me, Rowan. Why are you like this?”

  “Just to annoy you.”

  “Clearly.” She tosses her hands in the air. “Well, you’re going to have to watch them with me.”

  “Don’t be that person.”

  “Oh, I’m going to be that person, and I’m not even sorry about it, because for every movie you watch, I’ll bounce up and down on your lap.”

  That makes me laugh out loud. “The way you use your words—I’ve never heard someone express themselves the way you do.”

  “I aim to please.” She claps her hands together. “Okay, so when is this movie marathon?”

  “How about after we set up the coffee shop and you learn to bake?”