“I don’t think she needs you. What they need is space, away from someone blabbing on about the history of their jalape?o and olive consumption.”
“Uh, that was a smooth icebreaker. Not all of us can just huff our way through a conversation.”
“I don’t huff through a conversation.”
“Practically.” She folds her arms, and that just makes things even worse for me.
Christ, it’s as if I’ve never seen a pair of boobs before. Eyes up, Rowan.
“Well, I guess if she doesn’t need me, I’ll just go home,” Bonnie says.
“Okay,” I answer nonchalantly. I’m turning to walk away when she pulls on my arm.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘You can have dinner with me,’” she says, and her defensive tone almost makes me laugh.
“Why would you even want to when I huff through a conversation?”
Her lips twist to the side, and the smallest of smiles appears on her beautiful face. “Touché,” she says. She tugs on my arm again. “Don’t make me eat alone.” She bats her eyelashes. “Pleeeease, Rowan, I feel bad about the other day—”
“You feel bad?” I scoff. “You feel bad about driving me batshit.”
“Funny that you mention batshit . . .”
I roll my eyes and drag my hand over my face. Fuck, this woman has me feeling all kinds of emotions that I can’t quite seem to process. It doesn’t help that she’s looking damn beautiful tonight, those brilliant eyes of hers pleading for me to give this a chance.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to eat with her. Despite our tension-filled moments, I still want to be around her, see how far she can push me before she turns around, a complete one-eighty, and makes me laugh.
She tugs on my hand. “Please, Rowan. We can keep an eye on the girls from here and jump in if they need help—and we can keep each other company.” She smiles and . . . damn it.
That smile lowers my defenses in seconds. It’s sweet and loaded with promises of friendship and good times.
Hell . . .
“Fine.” I point at her. “But don’t give me the story behind any other food preferences.”
“Oh darn, I was planning on going into the history of my life and cake.” She smirks.
“Save it for someone else.” I nod toward an empty table near the stone wall that’s far enough away from Dakota and Isla. “Grab that table. I’ll snag a plate of nachos and some beers from Isla.”
“Sounds good.”
I approach the table, and Isla glances up at me, gratefulness in her eyes. “Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Figured you two might want a break from all the jalape?o and olive talk. Bonnie and I are going to hang at the table over there.” I point to where Bonnie is, and she gives them an enthusiastic wave. “Figured we could grab beer and some nachos.”
“Yes, please. We won’t be able to eat and drink all of this,” Isla says.
I’m filling up a pint for each of us and grabbing the plates when Dakota says, “She hides it well, Rowan, but she’s struggling. Be kind.”
“Of course,” I say, wishing I could read between the lines. Struggling with what?
Honestly, given Bonnie’s personality, I never would have guessed that she was struggling with something. She’s always so full of life . . . and saucy behavior.
I hold up the plate and beer. “Thanks. Have fun, lasses.”
“Thank you,” Isla mouths to me before I take off.
I really hope they find a connection. They both seem like they’re searching for something, and I’m hoping they’ve just found it.
As I walk toward her, Bonnie hops up from her bench and helps me with the nachos while I set the beers down on the table. I take a seat across from her and pick up my beer, bringing it to my lips and taking a small sip.
An IPA. Not my first choice but still good. Probably Deuchars. It’s a go-to for a lot of locals at Fergie’s Castle.
“Oh, this beer is really good,” Bonnie says, setting her pint down. “Might be my favorite I’ve had so far. Is it yours?”
I shake my head. “Prefer an ale.”
“Ohhh, you like to chew your beer. I do too, on occasion, but I have to be in the mood. Like when we had fish and chips, the maltiness of that beer with the oil and vinegar . . .” She kisses her fingertips like a chef. “Perfect. But this IPA goes great with the nachos.”