Clay already prepped, I turn on my wheel. The hum of the motor fills my small space as I dip my wet fingers into the soggy clay, laying the groundwork for a mug.
You have a talent, Rowan, he said. Use it. Why stay here where no one can appreciate it? Build up your stock and move to Edinburgh, where it’s swimming in tourists looking to take home a piece of Scotland.
And that was the plan.
I was going to help bake for a few more years until Callum was fully ready to take over the shop, and then I was going to do something for myself.
That’s what I told my da I was going to do.
And that was the start of the rift between the two of us.
I’d thought he’d get over it with time, but he never did, and once Callum passed away . . . well, we haven’t been able to recover. Da keeps pushing me further and further away.
The breeze gusts outside, sending a mist of rain in my direction. I welcome it as I sit under the single dim light in my shed. That’s all I turned on. It’s all I wanted.
With a sigh, I clear my head of the past. Needing to focus on something positive, I work on the clay in front of me, slowly raising the sides, hollowing it out into the shape I drew this morning.
Something that would fit Bonnie’s small hands but also leave plenty of room for the coffee she needs to function in the morning.
After our conversation about the shop and all her ideas, I knew right away I needed to make her something to reflect this new journey she’s on. The idea came to me this morning. A simple mug with a cinch in its waist, a flare at the top, and a hairy coo stamped on the side.
Turning toward the rain, feeling the weight of it pound against the ground, I smile to myself.
“What do you think, Callum? Think she’ll like it?”
Another breeze picks up, and I smile, realizing just how content I feel in this moment. Clay between my fingers, my brother by my side, with thoughts of Bonnie dripping through my mind.
The pain and the anxiety over my parents all wash away with the rain, making me think that maybe things are about to change for me. Maybe this is the start of something new.
Something truly special . . .
I check my hair one last time in the rearview mirror of my pickup and then open the driver’s side door. I don’t have many fancy clothes, but I did find a pair of barely worn dark-washed jeans in my drawers and paired them with a light-green button-up shirt. I made sure to style my hair and spritz on some cologne. I know she likes my scruff, so I didn’t shave, hoping to rub it against her soft skin later.
With a deep breath, I head to the cottage and knock on the front door. I know Dakota and Isla are walking around the loch right now. I caught them strolling and holding hands while I drove over here, so I’m not expecting to run into anyone but Bonnie.
I couldn’t help but notice a glimmer of jealousy in Bonnie’s eyes yesterday at Isla and Dakota’s strong connection. I considered asking her about it but decided at the last minute not to. I didn’t want to dive into anything that could make her uncomfortable, even though she seems to have no problem asking me all sorts of cringe-inducing questions.
But yesterday was different. Her usual confidence disappeared, and she seemed so fragile, almost embarrassed that she didn’t know Dakota and Isla had kissed, and I didn’t want to elevate that embarrassment. So I dropped it.
Hopefully, after we left the pub, they worked out whatever awkwardness they were going through.
Footsteps approach inside the cottage.
The door opens.
And fucking shite.
My breath is stolen at the sight of Bonnie.
Dressed in a pale-yellow dress that hugs her curves and highlights her breasts, she smiles brightly at me. Her hair hangs over her shoulders in curls, her eyes are devastatingly piercing, and her lips are painted glossy pink. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.
“Wow, lass.” I smooth my hand over my mouth. “You look stunning.”
She sways cutely. “You look quite handsome yourself.”
I move in and loop my arms around her, my hands falling to the spot just above her ass. Thanks to the heels she’s wearing, I don’t have to bend down too far to kiss her. What I wouldn’t give to just push her through this door and have my way with her—but based on the number of times she’s asked me if I’d be taking her out, I need to make sure we actually leave this cottage.
Aye . . . my girl.
That’s something I never expected. Before Bonnie came to Corsekelly, I was resigned to the idea that I was stuck in the town I grew up in, doing a job I hated to appease others. But now it feels like there might be possibility for something else. Something more.