This has nothing to do with possibly seeing Bonnie.
Not even a little.
When I make my way into town, I can already tell that Fergie’s has a little bit of a crowd, based on the noise emanating from the building. A few summers ago, Hamish spent a great deal of time working on the pub’s outdoor courtyard and repairing the stone wall that borders Loch Duich. He added planters that hold flowers during the summer and sprigs of spruce during the winter. He evenly spaced out picnic tables with large red umbrellas securely fastened in the middle, providing protection from what sun we do get. And then, toward the wall, he built a ladder ball court for those drunken nights when you think your ability to throw balls on a string is on point, when it’s really not. I suppress a smile at a few rowdier memories as I step onto the courtyard. To my surprise, a few picnic tables are still available.
Excited to be able to sit outside and enjoy a pint, I’m making my way past the picnic tables—just as someone grabs my hand.
“Rowan, you look nice.”
I glance down to find Isla, looking nice as well in a summer dress, her red hair gathered high on her head in a ponytail.
“Hey, Isla. You look good yourself. I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Oh really? Am I that squirrely day to day?” She smirks at me.
“You know what I mean.”
She tugs on my hand. “Join me. I ordered a pitcher and two plates of nachos. They’re the special tonight, and you know I’m not going to pass up some nachos.”
“Two plates’ worth?” I chuckle. “And a pitcher—you’re going to need someone to carry you home.”
“No, it’s not all for me. I’m expecting company.”
“Who . . . ?”
“Hey, Isla.” I don’t have to turn around to know who just excitedly greeted her, but I do anyway. “Who’s your friend—？”
Bonnie is standing next to Dakota, and they’re both dressed up as well and . . . hell, Bonnie, uh . . . fuck, she looks drop-dead gorgeous.
Her long blonde hair is styled in waves and is pinned back half up, half down. Heavy black mascara highlights those mesmerizing eyes, and a light shade of pink paints her plump lips. And that dress. Hell. Light blue, it’s tight around her waist and breasts and flairs out at her hips. Mouthwatering, that’s the only way to describe her.
“Oh, Rowan.” She chuckles. “I didn’t recognize you in a button-up shirt.”
“Should say the same about the dress,” I say, and her eyes narrow.
“You both look really nice,” Isla says sweetly before clearing her throat and turning to Dakota. “I love your hair.”
Dakota blushes. “Thank you. You look great too.”
And oh my God, they’re on a date . . . with a third wheel.
Bonnie is the dead giveaway—she’s stepped off to the side and is twiddling her fingers together in front of her chest, looking far too excited.
We both stare at Dakota and Isla, who are staring at each other and smiling. I don’t know much about Dakota, but from what I’ve seen, she could be a good match for Isla. They’re both calm, thoughtful, and take good care of their friends.
Hence the reason I’ve been asked to become this date’s fourth wheel.
Normally I would quickly bow out and grab a pint to myself, sit on the stone wall, and stare out at the loch, but I have a feeling—from the way they’re staring at each other—that they’re going to want some alone time, but there is no way they would dingy Bonnie. They’re not that kind of people.
So . . . looks like I’m on Bonnie patrol tonight. Great.
“I ordered us the beer you two said you liked and some nachos. I hope that’s all right,” Isla says with a nervous smile.
“I love nachos,” Bonnie says, taking a seat at the picnic table. Dakota sits next to her, and Isla takes a seat across from Dakota, which leaves me with sitting across from Bonnie.
When I take a seat, Bonnie’s eyes widen.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Isla invited me.” I smirk.
“I hope that’s okay,” Isla says, always the people pleaser. “I can kick him out right now, and he could get his own nachos.” I know she’s not serious, but I’d allow it if she was.
“Please kick him—”
“The more the merrier,” Dakota says, elbowing Bonnie.
Just then Hamish delivers the beer and the nachos, something he never does, but then again, he’s always had a soft spot for Isla. Who doesn’t here? She owns a bakeshop, is incredibly sweet, and is always one of the first locals to volunteer to help out wherever it’s needed.