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The Highland Fling(27)

Author:Meghan Quinn

“Are there any hiking trails around here?”

“Lots,” Leith answers. “Plenty of outdoor activities. Sunday, when everything is closed, we can plan a hike up to Corsekelly Castle. It’s half in ruins, but it’s a great place for a picnic.”

“We love it up there,” Isla adds.

“Up where?” I hear Lachlan say as he comes up to the table and stands behind Leith.

Bonnie grips my arm and sways. “Holy shit, how many beers have I had?” She blinks. “Is anyone else seeing two Leiths?”

“’Tis my twin brother, Lachlan,” Leith says, laughing.

“Two of you?” Bonnie looks me up and down. “Are there two of you? Is the other one nicer?”

“Just one.” I sip my beer. “You wouldn’t be able to handle two of me.”

“Aye, this must be Bonnie and Dakota,” Lachlan says, grinning. “I can already tell Rowan’s smitten with Bonnie.”

Jesus Christ.

“I recall him comparing my attraction level to the Loch Ness Monster,” Bonnie says. “I don’t think ‘smitten’ is the right word.”

“That’s Rowan for ya—truly knows the way to a lass’s heart.”

Fucking bawbag, doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

I stand from the table and push my stool in. “Off to the cludgie.”

Without another word, I walk toward the back of the pub and pass some of the locals, who give me nods, and straight to the back, where the stall is vacant. I make quick work of relieving myself and wash my hands. By the time I exit, I catch Lachlan dancing near the band with Bonnie.

I pause for a moment, taking her in. Her long blonde hair flies about her shoulders, released from her hair band about an hour ago. Music from our local band fills the small confines of the pub, the fiddle taking center stage. Her contagious smile stretches from ear to ear as she shakes with the beat, using those pointy fingers to guide her movements.

She looks happy.

Relaxed . . .

Everything I’m not as I stand here staring at her, realizing very quickly that the girl in front of me is catching my attention.

Hell, not just catching my attention, but making me think stupid things like What do her lips taste like?

She gives Lachlan’s chest a playful push, and they both laugh. He takes her hands in his, spinning her around the floor. All eyes are on them, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say Lachlan is trying to goad me with the smirk he shoots my way when he’s done spinning her.

Well, it’s not going to work.

Not interested.

But even as I think that, jealousy pricks at the back of my neck.

Jealousy of what, though?

That they’re having a good time?

Or that Lachlan has his hands all over Bonnie and I don’t?

Either way, it shouldn’t matter—this is my opportunity to leave.

I head toward the table just as Bonnie is flung in my direction, spinning away from Lachlan, laughter falling past her lips. She twists and trips toward the ground. Dread fills me as she flails her arms, still laughing, and on instinct, I reach out, catching her right before her head hits a table.

Light in my arms, she looks up at me in surprise, and then the maddest thing happens.

She smiles at me.

And before I know it, she’s straightening up and taking my hands in hers and pulling me toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my body feeling as stiff as a board.

“Dancing. Don’t you dance, Kilty?”

“No.”

“I don’t buy it.” Keeping my hand in hers, she coerces me into dancing by spinning under my arm and moving me back and forth.

I feel all eyes on me. Every local in the pub knows I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I’m surprised they’re not all pulling out their phones to record the rare sight of me on a dance floor.

“Bonnie, I don’t—”

She grips my hips, and my face burns as she sways them back and forth. “Sheesh, your pelvis is as hard as a rock. Are you hiding the real Boaby Stone in your pants?”

Move your hands a little bit more inward, and you’ll know exactly what hard is.

“Loosen up. Maybe that’s why you’re always so grumpy—you’re not loose. You’d think with some beer in your system, you’d be more willing to shake your booty.” She turns me to the side and pokes me just as I move to the side, and she accidentally pokes me directly on the arse. “Oh dear Lord, I poked your behind.” Laughing, she cups her mouth and says, “Pardon me, dear sir, but . . . did it at least make things come to life?”

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