Page 41 of Wild Scottish Rose

It was like Owen had the Midas touch but with people, and I honestly had no idea how I felt about it. What was fake and what was real? He charmed as naturally as he breathed, so where did that leave me? Just another one of his conquests on his travels? The thought was unsettling, and I snapped at him when he joined me at the van.

“If you’re going to help me today, then you actually have to work.”

Owen paused, looking me up and down when he heard the bite in my voice, and then a smile bloomed on his face.

“Awww, pretty Shona. Were you jealous that I was talking to that woman?” Owen ran a hand down my back, and I wanted to arch into his palm like a cat asking for more cuddles.

“We’re here to work. Not to flirt,” I grumbled, grabbing hold of one edge of the table and sliding it toward the door. Immediately, Owen nudged in front of me, lifting the table easily from the van and resting it on the ground as he continued to smile that knowing smile at me.

“She has a wedding ring on. And a child,” Owen pointed out. Both facts I was well aware of.

“Let’s just stay focused, shall we?”

“I wasn’t flirting, Shona. I was being friendly.” Owen stayed where he was, blocking me from moving past him.

“You probably don’t even realize you’re doing it.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair and tugging at the ends. “And that’s fine, really. I get it. You’re just so damn handsome that anyone you speak to is going to fall in lovewith you. And you’ve said it yourself, you’ve got charm by the bucketload. I know it’s not intentional. It’s just?—”

“Just what?” Owen leaned forward, his face hovering closer to mine, and my heart rate sped up. Was he really going to try and kiss me here? In front of everyone?

“It would be nice if it wasn’t in front of me is all.” Damn it, I hated myself for even saying it. Who was I to stop this man from flirting with other women? We’d shared a kiss or two. That was it. There was nothing more here. And now I was acting like a possessive housewife convinced her husband is out philandering?

“Shona.” The tone in Owen’s voice had me raising my eyes to his. There I found empathy, but also seriousness. “I don’t toy with women’s feelings. I’ve watched, too often, men who do that to people I care about. And I’ve had to be the one to clean up the resulting messes. I may be charming, but I am never misleading. I won’t lie and tell you that I like you if I don’t like you. I don’t play games, I don’t have some sort of endgame, and I never, ever cheat. I’ve been very clear that I like you, I’m attracted to you, and I want to get to know you better—even whenyouhaven’t been clear on how you think aboutme. If, at any point, I’m doing something that doesn’t make you feel good, just tell me. I’d rather you be straight with me than hide it.”

My breath left me, like a balloon deflating, and I just looked helplessly up at Owen.How is a woman supposed to respond to that?I’ve never been spoken to so directly in my life. Was I this far out of the dating game that I stumbled when spoken to like this? Or was the harsh reality that I’d dated immature men before and Owen was, well, he was all grown up. What was I supposed to tell him? That I’ddreamt of him the night before and pleasured myself to the memory of his kiss?

“I won’t lie and tell you that I like you if I don’t like you. I don’t play games…I’ve been very clear that I like you, I’m attracted to you, and I want to get to know you better…”

Why couldn’t all men be as clear in their intentions? How surreal that a man so charming and handsome was interested in me. I wasn’t sure if I could give him a clear picture, especially with all the other things I was still processing, of what I thought about him. But I did owe Owensometruth.

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” I said instead, and then could have kicked myself when I saw the brief flash of hurt in his eyes. I rushed to diffuse it. “All good things so far, Owen. I’m just … overthinking things I guess.”

“That’s fair, I suppose. And by your own admission, any woman I speak to is going to fall in love with me, so I’ve got that to look forward to with you.”

“Have I mentioned you’re impossible?” I asked, annoyed at the shit-eating grin on his face. Shocking me, he bussed my lips in a lightning-fast kiss that had my cheeks heating once more and then hefted the table that usually took Louise and I both to carry it. “Where to, boss?”

“Last stall on the corner.” I pointed, happy to have him walking away so I could gulp air and try to clear my head.

Love? What had prompted me to bring up love?

I was so in over my head it wasn’t even funny.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Owen

Watching Shona work was a dream.

She was a vision in her pretty blue sweater that made her eyes light up in her face like brilliant orbs of seawater, her silky hair fluttering down her shoulders. When she smiled, her whole face lit, like the sun rising over the hills, and I snuck as many photos and videos of her as I could when we weren’t tending to customers.

Which wasn’t all that often—Shona’s booth was slammed.

Grateful I’d come along to help, as I had no idea how she would have managed the line just on her own, I quickly devised a system to help. Shona would be at the front, answering questions on the produce, and I’d be at the bagging station ready to take the money and pack the goods while she moved on to assisting the next customer.

She never rushed anyone, no matter how long the line was, but at the same time moved people efficiently along. I admired that skill, noting she took extra time with the elderly who seemed particularly choosy when it came to their autumn squash of choice.

“You’re good with people,” I told Shona, when she stopped the line to stock more brown paper bags by the check-out station. “You take your time with them.”

“A lot of people here are on a limited budget. What they buy matters. I’d rather have them take their time and pick the perfect ingredients for their healthy meals this week than buy some cheap overly processed crap at the store just because that’s all they can afford. So, I don’t rush them and make sure they have a braw day. There’s something nice about coming home from the market with your purchases, knowing you’ve bought direct, and where your food comes from, you ken?” Shona left my side before I could answer, returning to the line, while I dutifully rang up the next customer.

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