Home > Books > The Highland Fling(120)

The Highland Fling(120)

Author:Meghan Quinn

“But you’re leaving—how was it the best decision for you?”

I smile. “Because I’m leaving here with confidence, something I haven’t had in a very long time. I’m leaving here knowing I made a change, knowing I helped you, I helped Finella and Stuart, and maybe even helped this town. I’m also leaving here knowing exactly what it feels like to love someone. I’m a changed woman, Dakota. You were right: I needed to find myself, and Scotland might have been the place to do that.” I smile to myself, tears welling in my eyes. “I found myself, and that right there will help me get through the heartache of losing Rowan.” At least, I’m hoping it does, because it’s going to take a long time to get rid of this burning, aching hole in my chest.

“I’m not saying I like that you’re leaving, but I am proud of you. You’ve created such a brilliantly cozy space for the town and for tourists. Very proud of you, Bonnie.”

“Thank you.”

“And frankly, I know you’re hurting now, but I believe you’re strong enough to get over Rowan. You know . . . if you want to stay and give it a try.”

I quietly chuckle and shake my head. “I appreciate your encouragement, but I think it would be too much. And hey, Finella gave me her email address and said to use her as a reference. For all future jobs. Not sure what I’ll do, but at least I’ll have that to help me out.”

“Yeah.” Dakota wraps her arm around me. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, but it’s for the best. Honestly, I couldn’t stay here even if I wanted to. I now truly know what a broken heart feels like.” I blow out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. How about we just enjoy some cake one last time?”

“Is there any left?”

I playfully nudge her. “I snagged one of the cherry cakes. You’ll be short one tomorrow.”

“Great, it only took everything in me to make those.”

We laugh as I hop off the counter and take the cake out of my hiding spot in the bakery chest.

I pop open the top of the to-go box. “In my head, we each take a half, but I’m thinking we work our way to the halfway mark?”

Dakota reaches for the plates. “Let’s just call it like it is. Split it and plop a half on each plate.”

“And that is why I love you.”

After cutting the cake right down the middle, I give each of us a half, and we lean against the counter. We clang our forks together and dig in—just as the door to the shop opens.

Both of our heads whip to the entrance as Rowan steps inside, closing the door behind him. Hair styled, button-up shirt hugging his torso, jeans clinging to his thighs with the cuffs rolled, making room for his classic boots. My breath catches in my chest at the mere sight of him, and I realize something: not only do I love him, but I really don’t know if I’m ever going to get over him.

“Rowan,” I say, sounding like a breathless fool. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, Dakota and I are having a girls’ night.”

“This won’t take long.” He walks across the shop, that stubborn, grumpy attitude I fell in love with on full display as he leans against the customer side of the counter.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said we’re having a girls’ night.”

“And I told you this won’t take long, but if you keep making me repeat myself, it might take longer.”

“Did you come here to be a dick, because if that’s the case . . .” I slow-clap. “You’re doing a good job.”

“Still sarcastic, I see.”

“You don’t lose sarcasm in a week. Takes time to drive that out of someone. You might have broken my heart, but you didn’t break my spirit.”

His eyes soften as Dakota whispers, “Ooh, good one.”

“Thank you,” I whisper behind my hand. “Felt like an excellent comeback.”

“It was aces,” Dakota says, hopping up on the counter, where she sits and enjoys the show.

Rowan scratches the side of his jaw, looking between us. “Will the audience be staying for this entire conversation?”

I turn to Dakota. “He wants to know if you’re staying.”

“I don’t feel like leaving, that’s for sure. I like that he’s uncomfortable.”

“Not uncomfortable,” he says, shrugging. “Just preparing myself for more obnoxious commentary.”