“Uh, excuse me?” I say, nearly blown over by her attitude. “First of all, where is this sass coming from? Second of all, pardon me for caring if you’re dead or alive.”

  Dakota flings her arm to the side. “That was embarrassing back there, and you made Isla uncomfortable.”

  “I was worried.”

  “Worried about what? Your espresso machine and signage? Don’t worry, we dropped it off at the shop. You can go check if you want.”

  “What? Are you serious? Dakota, I was worried about you.”

  “So is that why you kept texting me all day yesterday and today about the sign but never thought to ask how our trip was?”

  She stands, grabs her bag, and pushes past me.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Isla’s.”

  “The hell you are.” I charge toward the door and stand in front of it, barring her escape. “We’re still talking, and I’ll have you know, I didn’t ask about your trip because I was hurt.”

  “Hurt? About what?”

  “We were supposed to go to Inverness together.”

  Dakota opens her mouth and then closes it. The tension in her shoulders drops. “I thought that was a joke.”

  “You might have thought it was, but I thought we were going to sightsee together.”

  “We did. We went through the Highlands.”

  “A portion, but there is so much more of Scotland, and Inverness is a day trip.”

  “I didn’t know,” she says calmly, the steam quickly fading. “Isla was excited to show me around, and I didn’t want to say no. I was thrilled she even asked me, you know, since Isabella never wanted to take me anywhere. I’m sorry, Bonnie.”

  Two words, that’s all it takes. Two words to break me down into a bubbling mess.

  Tears well up in my eyes.

  Throat constricts.

  And then I’m a pile of emotions, sitting on the floor.

  Dakota sits next to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t know it meant that much to you. I really am sorry.”

  “It’s not that.” I take a deep breath and consider telling her how I’ve been feeling lately.

  Left out.

  Forgotten.

  Like I’m losing my best friend to someone else.

  Like I’m no longer needed or important to my person.

  But in the grand scheme of things, it seems so juvenile and not something that needs to drag down this moment. Dakota is here now, and we have a little more time before we truly have to go to bed. We should make the most of it.

  “Then, what is it?”

  “Stressed,” I answer. “I’ve just been really stressed lately, and not knowing where you were only added to that. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

  “No, you’re right, I should have texted. It was just a good day, and I got lost in the moment. But I don’t want to talk about that.” She pulls me to my feet. “Did you sleep over at Rowan’s again?”

  I smile. “I did.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Dakota wiggles her eyebrows like a dork.

  “I’m going to break the news to you right now—anytime I’m over at Rowan’s, you can count on us having sex. No need to wiggle your eyebrows.”

  She chuckles and then yawns. “Figured as much. Hey, I’m super tired from the last two days. I think I’m going to head to bed, okay?”

  “Oh . . . okay, sure,” I say, a little caught off guard.

  “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Dakota asks, sensing my hesitancy.

  “No, I just thought we could catch up, but I get it.” I fake yawn. “Long day over here too.”

  “Bonnie, we can catch up tomorrow, at the shop.”

  “True. Doye.” I playfully hit my forehead, knowing for damn certain that I’ve never said the word doye out loud in my entire life. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll catch you on the flippity-flop.”

  Dakota’s eyes narrow. “You’re being weird.”

  “Too much sugar. You know how I get.” I twirl my finger next to my ear. “Crazy. Anyhoo.” I pat my stomach for some reason and then jab my thumb toward the stairs. “Guess I’ll be on my way.”

  “Oh-kay,” she drags out, watching me moonwalk to the stairs. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  When I reach my bedroom, I fling myself onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling. What the hell was that?

  For certain, it was the most awkward interaction I’ve ever had with Dakota, even worse than the time I thought I got my period when we were playing in her backyard and she hadn’t gotten hers yet, so I knew she wouldn’t understand the severity of not being prepared. What just happened was way worse than that.

  With a sigh, I roll to my side and pick up my phone to set an alarm for my morning hairy coo walk. That’s when I catch a text from Rowan.

  I quickly open it, ready to cling to anything that might possibly take away this heavy buildup that’s sitting on my lungs like a ten-ton weight.

  Rowan: Hope you’re having fun with Dakota. Wanted to quickly say I was very impressed with you yesterday. Proud to call you me girl. Night, lass.

  I press my lips together as they tremble. A single tear falls down the side of my face.

  How did he know I needed that text more than anything right now?

  Through blurred vision, I text him back.

  Bonnie: Thank you, Rowan, that means a lot. Must be that one-sixteenth Scottish in me that makes me such a good baker, huh?

  He texts back right away.

  Rowan: Sorry to break it to you, lass. One sixteenth is barely a blip in the gene pool.

  Bonnie: Don’t you belittle my heritage.

  Rowan: Not belittling, just helping you understand, your one-sixteenth has nothing on this one hundred percenter.

  Bonnie: If you were one hundred percent Scottish, then I would have seen you in a kilt already.

  Rowan: All in good time, lass. Good night. Wish you were here.

  Bonnie: Wish I was there too. Good night, Rowan.

  I clutch my phone to my chest and stare up at the ceiling as a long sigh flows out of my lungs. Oh God . . . I like the man. A lot.

  I like how he cares for me.

  How he teases me.

  How he’s protective and can sense when something is bothering me.

  I like his smile and his deep voice that rattles me to my very core when he whispers in my ear.

  I like that he’s proud of me . . .

  I like . . . oh God . . . I think I love him.

  “Bonnie, hey, wait up.”

  I turn to find Isla jogging up to me just as I step onto the Hairy Coo Footpath. It’s early, the fog still lifting off the grass as the sun barely peeks over the horizon. I had a hard time falling asleep last night and wound up waking early, my mind whirring over all the changes in my life.

  Rowan.

  The coffee shop.

  Dakota.

  It’s weighing heavily on me.

  “Good morning, Isla,” I say, slowing down so she can catch up.

  “Morning to ye. Are you open to having a walking partner?”

  “Sure,” I answer, right before giving her a hug hello.

  Together, we walk down the path and around the bend where I ran smack into a shirtless Rowan, though he’s absent from this go-around. Unfortunately. Wouldn’t mind another sweaty stone wall to the face right about now, especially after not seeing him last night.

  “Sorry about getting Dakota back late. If I knew you were worried, I would have never suggested we go out for a bite.”

  “Oh, no need to apologize. It’s fine,” I say as the back of my neck heats up with embarrassment. “I’m sorry if I was rude to you.”

  She chuckles. “Look at us, apologizing for something so small.”

  “Typical ladies,” I joke.

  “I do want to make sure you like me, though, because I really like Dakota.”

  Shocked, I turn toward her and stop her with a hand to her arm. “Isla, I do like you. Have I given off the vibe that I don’t?”

  “No, not really. I mean, maybe a little, and when I asked Dakota about it, she said you’ve just been busy—but I wasn’t sure if that was a cover-up.”

  Confrontation—with someone other than Dakota—is not something I’m comfortable with. When it comes to my friendship with Dakota, I can tell her anything, talk to her about anything, and truly express my feelings. But with anyone else, I just turn into an apologetic mess and try to smooth things over quickly so I can be done with the awkward tornado that just blew in and blew out.

  “It wasn’t a cover-up.” We start walking again. “I’ve been stressed and maybe . . . a little jealous of the two of you. I know that sounds stupid and I shouldn’t be jealous. I was the one encouraging Dakota to start dating again, but I just felt her pulling away, and it made me a little crazy. If that makes sense.”

  “Aye, I understand. You two have such a strong bond.”

  “Yes, and after things ended with Isabella, I had Dakota all to myself again, and I soaked that up. Isabella took a lot of Dakota time away from me, and it was painful. Maybe I was having some flashbacks, I don’t know. Either way, I really do like you, Isla. I think you’re lovely and sweet, and I know your intentions are honest. Plus, Rowan has nothing but the best to say about you. He once told me if I should trust my best friend with anyone, it should be you.”

  “Thank you. I think very highly of Rowan myself. You two are the perfect balance for each other.”

  “We can drive each other mad at the drop of a hat, but we also make each other very happy.”

  “And that’s what matters.” We pass the first cattle pasture, but unluckily for us, the cute shaggy beasts are too far away to try to pet, so we keep walking. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, anything,” I answer.

  “Isabella . . . what did she do to Dakota? I had a lot of fun this past weekend, but I felt Dakota shutting down on me at some points, especially when it came to going to bed. She was very stiff. I ended up holding her to try to get her to relax, and once she did, we were able to have a . . . er . . . a really good evening.”

  “When you say ‘really good,’ do you mean you two got frisky?” I laugh, and so does Isla.

  “I mean, I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “But you sure do blush when you mention it.”

  “Damn these Scottish cheeks.” She presses her hands to her red face.

  “Spare me the details, but if we’re being serious, yeah, Isabella did a number on Dakota. It’s taken her a year to get back into dating.”

  “What did she do?”

  “What didn’t she do?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “She was Dakota’s first girlfriend ever, which is a revelation on its own, but pair that with someone who is vindictive and manipulative, and you have a recipe for disaster. Dakota started to equate her gayness to everything Isabella didn’t like about her. So she thought if she dressed in a way that Isabella didn’t like, she wasn’t being a proper lesbian. If she didn’t kiss a certain way, talk a certain way, publicly display her affection a certain way, that it was all wrong.”

  “Och, that’s awful.”

  “It was really bad. Dakota felt broken for a very long time. She would second-guess herself, wonder if she was actually gay or if it was Isabella. She was completely mind-fucked.”

  “Well, that would explain why she apologizes or second-guesses every move she makes and everything she says. When we kissed for the first time, she pulled away and apologized right before she tried to flee the scene. I had to reassure her I desperately wanted her to kiss me. And I feel like I do that more often than not.”

  “Reassure her?”

  “Aye,” Isla sighs. “I’m not irritated with having to tell her how beautiful she is or talented or thoughtful. It’s that I wish she saw it herself, ye ken?”

  “I know exactly what you’re talking about, and I think it will all come in time. She needs to be with the right person, and once she starts seeing the value in herself, it will shine through. Trust me, Dakota can’t be knocked down for that long. She’s strong willed and has always been bound and determined to make something of herself. Keep working on her, don’t let her apologize for something she shouldn’t be apologizing for, and show her what it’s like to be in a healthy, normal relationship.”

  “That’s really good advice. Thank ye, Bonnie.”

  “Of course. Always feel free to come to me with questions. I’m the Dakota whisperer.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She bumps my shoulder, and even though I haven’t spoken to Dakota yet today, deep down I feel just a little bit closer to her after talking to Isla.

  See, Bonnie, everything is going to be okay.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ROWAN

  Days since I realized I’m falling for Bonnie: One.

  Hours spent thinking about Bonnie: Every single goddamn hour.

  I’m toast.

  Roasted.

  Charred and served.

  Bonnie has planted herself in my headspace, and nothing can remove her.

  Nothing.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I say as Bonnie sinks down on my length until she bottoms out.

  The minute she got to my place, she stripped down, pushed me into my bedroom, and relieved me of my clothes. She then spent a good ten minutes worshipping my body until I couldn’t take it anymore. She sheathed me with a condom and is now slowly rocking up and down my shaft.

  “I missed you,” she says, looking down at me, her hair like a golden curtain pushed to the side. “Is it desperate that I missed you?”

  I chuckle and grip her hips, trying to entice her to pick up the pace, but instead she draws it out some more. “Nay, lass. I missed you too.”

  “Missed me, or missed sex?”

  “Missed you more, but I did miss this with you.”

  She smirks. “Good answer.” Her hands fall to my torso and drag up to my pecs, where she grips and shifts her body, giving us a different angle. It must really work for her, because her mouth falls open and a low moan erupts from her.

  “Just like that,” I say, pushing my pelvis up into her. “Fuck, you feel perfect.”

  She grips my cheek and presses her mouth to mine, begging for entrance with her tongue. I don’t give it at first—instead, I let her live off closed but powerful kisses. She does everything she can to pry open my mouth, even bite my bottom lip, but I hold still as my hands travel down her back and grip her ass. I spread her cheeks and push up into her hard and fast. Her mouth pops off mine, and she cries out in pleasure.

  “Yes, Rowan. Yes, please don’t stop.” She lifts up, one hand planted against my chest, the other pushing her hair back as her tits bounce right in front of me . . .

  Hell.

  “Bonnie,” I choke out. “Lass, you there?”

  Her eyes squeeze shut, her hips move faster, and I feel her start to clench around my cock instantaneously. “Oh . . . fuck,” she whispers as her teeth pull on her bottom lip and she comes.

  The feel of her tight warmth, wrapped around me, does me in. My balls tighten, pleasure rips through every limb, and my cock swells inside of her as I come harder than I can ever remember.

  Together, we pulse out every last ounce of pleasure until we are completely spent.

  After I clean us both up, I lean against the headboard and pull her close. She sighs against me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking happy in my entire life.

  “I’m hungry,” she says as I play with her hair.

  “Want some cake?”

  She lifts up and looks me in the eyes. “You have cake?”

  “I made some earlier today. Since you were coming over.”

  “If I didn’t just have sex with you, I would be jumping on that Scottish sausage of yours.”

  “Eloquent.” I reach over the bed and toss my shirt at her. “Put that on so I don’t have to stare at your gorgeous body all night.”

  “What a travesty.”

  I throw on a pair of athletic shorts and then head to the kitchen, where I take down two of my hand-thrown plates that I fired up in the kiln the other day. They came out just the way I wanted, the glaze a beautiful mixture of blues and greens to represent the green of the Highlands and the blue of the lochs. My goal is to handmake all my plates and serving ware, but with how little free time I have, it’s been taking me longer than I’ve wanted.

  Not to mention, I was in a creative drought before Bonnie showed up. Now, it’s as if the potter’s wheel is in my head, constantly turning with new ideas, techniques I want to try. Just need to find more time.

  From the fridge, I take out the chocolate cake with chocolate frosting I made earlier and cut two large slices. I know my girl, and she’s not shy about her portions of cake. Might as well give her the amount she’s actually going to eat so she doesn’t have to ask for another helping.

  When I turn around, I find her curled up on the sofa, hair piled on top of her head, looking fresh, with a little bit of beard burn on her cheeks.

  I walk over to her and drag my finger over her reddened cheek. “Does this hurt?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I like knowing you’ve claimed me.”

  Smiling, I lean down and lift her to a sitting position. “Good, because you’re mine.” I press a quick kiss to her lips and then head to the kitchen, where I grab our plates.

  “Why are you so amazing?” she asks when I hand her the plate. “Did you make this from scratch?”

  “How else do you make a cake?”

  She takes a bite and moans. “God, that’s so good. So much better than when I make a cake from a box.”

  “Me da would have a coronary if you ever gave him a boxed cake.”

  “Scottish snobs,” she scoffs with a grin. “So, I was thinking about putting the menus up this Friday, after making a few more batches of the butteries and scones. See how the Friday and Saturday tour buses react, then assess and make adjustments for Monday. What do you think?”

  “Do you feel comfortable with the espresso machine?”

  She nods, her mouth full of cake. When she swallows, she says, “I spent a year using this exact machine when I worked with Lisa. She preferred a certain coffee bean combination, freshly ground, and then made on the spot. I got exceptionally good at some pretty fancy drinks. Caramel macchiatos, americanos, and cappuccinos were my go-tos. I was nervous to come to this job because I didn’t know the kind of experience needed, but when I saw the extent of drink choices in the shop, I knew my skills were more than adequate. I’m comfortable making what we have on the menu, and I can nail those drinks.”