Page 34 of Wild Scottish Rose

“But why did you get me roses?” Shona persisted, confused. “Nobody’s ever bought me flowers before.”

“Now, that’s just a crying shame, darlin’,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “And may I apologize on behalf of all men?”

“I’m sure it’s just because I’m a gardener,” Shona continued, nibbling at her lower lip. “Why bring a gardener flowers when she already has them?”

“Because you clearly love them? And you’re a beautiful woman, so why shouldn’t you be surrounded by beautiful things?”

Shona narrowed those sea-soaked eyes at me and tapped a finger on her lips.

“I can’t decide if you’re purposely turning on the charm or if this is just who you are as a person.”

“Sorry.” I laughed, rocking back on my heels, the flowers still clenched in my hands. “If I had to wager, I’d say it’s a bit of both. I think charm is engrained in my DNA. I’ve got a womanizing father, and a mother who hooks and discards men like she’s a professional fisherman. I suppose I’ve learned from the best.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Because of that, I’m also not a liar.” I extended the flowers. “These roses are a close second to your beauty, Shona. And I’d very much like for you to have them.”

“I can hardly say no now, can I?” Still Shona wiggled that lower lip between her teeth, slowly driving me crazy, while she thought it over.

“Definitely not. It would be rude,” I agreed, and Shona sighed, the most reluctant gift receiver I’d ever met. She took them from my hands. “This is where you thank me and invite me in while you put them in water.”

“I’m not inviting you in.” A look of horror crossed Shona’s face as she glanced over her shoulder at her cottage. Even more intrigued, I sidled closer again.

“Why not? Got a dead body in there?”

“What? A dead … no.” Shona shook her head empathetically. “Och, it’s just the place is a mess. I need to tidy it up, but no time.”

“I can help,” I offered, reaching up to unclip the bra that I’d had my eye on and watching as Shona’s cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. “I like this underwear you have, Shona. It’s like you’re a whole different woman underneath your gardening clothes. I wonder why that is?”

“Because dirt is impossible to get out of silk,” Shona grumbled, grabbing a pair of thong panties before I could snag them. “Seriously, Owen, I can do this.”

“Many hands make less work,” I intoned, nipping another bra, this one black and white polka dots, from the line.

“Owen,” Shona all but growled, her face flaming, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Ducking between her outstretched arms that reached for another pair of panties, I dropped a cheerful kiss on her mulish pout.

Shona froze, sinking into the kiss for a moment, and then batted me away like I was a fly buzzing a picnic lunch.

“You can’t do that,” Shona said, looking around. I followed her gaze to the empty garden.

“Why not? Is someone watching us?”

“No, I mean yes.” Shona backtracked, hurrying her way through the rest of the laundry until her basket looked as lush and richly full of colors as a stall at an exotic bazaar. “I have staff on site today helping with the harvest. And I need to get back to it. I was just bringing these in in case the rain came on.”

“Here, I’ll help you.” I snagged the basket before shecould stop me and grinned at her when she put her hands on her hips.

“Put that down.”

“My mama would be furious if I let a woman carry a heavy basket without offering to help.”

“It’s hardly heavy.” Shona crossed her arms over her chest, glancing between the basket at my hip and the flowers she’d put on the table.

“Look at those poor flowers. Crying out for water. Can’t you hear them? Help meeeeeee.” I pretended to cry, and Shona’s expression landed somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

“Damn it, Owen. My place is not?—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a trash goblin that would give Oscar the Grouch a run for his money.”

Shona blinked at me.

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