Page 61 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“Why wouldn’t anyone ask you?” I asked, genuinely surprised. Willow was a knock-out, both in personality and looks, and I couldn’t imagine a man not being proud to have her on his arm. Or a boy, I supposed, if we were talking about high school. I cast my mind back to my impression of her as a kid. I remembered her dying her hair some weird colors, and she’d definitely worn some outlandish clothes. Had she been pretty then? I honestly couldn’t remember because I’d been older and had had my eyes on the lasses in the class above me.

They were more developed.

Sad to say, but hormones were a powerful thing. And, yeah, I’d been pie-eyed over a lass two years older than me who’d barely known my name. Nothing had ever come of it, much to my teenaged broken heart, but I couldn’t remember paying much attention to Willow one way or the other. But surely boys in her class had.

Willow huffed out a laugh and gestured with her hand to her body.

“And?”

“Oh, come on, Ramsay. Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” I asked, surprised to seeanger flash across Willow’s face. She was so perpetually cheerful that it was rare to see that bite of frustration.

“Seriously?” Willow scoffed. When I just looked at her, dumbfounded, she rolled her eyes. “I’m fat, Ramsay. Curvy. Plus-sized. Whatever you want to call it. But to highschoolers, it was just fat with a capital F. I embrace that word now, because I’ve learned to love my body, but it sucked growing up. Kids can be pretty cruel.”

“You’re not…” I stopped myself and held up a hand when Willow looked ready to bite my head off.

“There’s nothing wrong with being bigger, Ramsay.”

“I’m not saying—” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling like I was navigating a minefield. “Och, I hear what you’re saying, aye? I stopped myself. I didn’t mean. Yes, you’re right, the word fat is often used as though it is a bad thing. Which is stupid, really, because we welcome it in food, don’t we? Add more fat in and everything tastes better, doesn’t it? I guess what I meant to say is that I think you’re mind-blowingly beautiful, and any man, or boy, who couldn’t see that needs to get their eyes checked. It’s their loss, isn’t it then?”

Willow’s mouth had rounded to a perfect O shape at my rant, and I wasn’t sure how to take it, so I rushed to reassure her that I wasn’t trying to insult her body and that I accepted her just as she was.

“Seriously, Willow. You’re a damn goddess. You would be atanysize, because you have the personality of a fecking angel, but add in those killer curves and that damn mouth, and och, it’s enough to bring any man to his knees. Or woman, if that’s, um, your thing.”

I’d never asked her if she preferred women, had I? Ihadn’t asked her much about herself at all, I realized, instead just doing my best to scramble away from her so my heart didn’t do something stupid like jump off a ledge and fall head over heels for this woman. She’d been sunshine in a bottle as a child, and now, literally lit my shop with the smile that beamed from her face.

I could use this type of light in my life.

Where the hell had that thought come from? And how?

I seriously hadn’t had time during the last decade to date all that seriously. I’d taken a lass or several out to the occasional meal, but it had only really been a precursor to a night of sex. At least I was always honest and up-front with my expectations. A few short relationships had sprung up here and there. But anything long-term had been completely off the radar.

So why was I thinking about wanting light in my life?

Standing up, I bent to help Calvin unhook one of his wee claws from a particularly gnarly piece of rope, grateful for the distraction, yet helpless to stop the sudden flow of words from my mouth.

“And that’s braw if that’s your thing. It’s none of my business, you ken? Either way, I’m sorry you missed out on dances growing up. You won’t have to miss out on this one, and I’m happy to go with you if you’re nervous about attending.”

Shite, had I just asked her to the cèilidh?

“Are you asking me to the dance?” Her tone was incredulous, and I couldn’t bring myself to look in her direction. She was giving me an out, and I could clarify that I’d meant just as friends, or that we could go as a group, but since she’d clearly been hurt by stupid teenage boys not askingher to stupid dances in the past, I’d just add to it by backpedaling now. I certainly didn’t want to contribute to more hurt for her.

Bloody hell, I’d neatly boxed myself in, hadn’t I?

“I’d be honored if you’d accompany me to the cèilidh, Willow.”

“Jeez, well, yes, thank you very much, Ramsay. I’d love to go.”

A quick glance showed me she was glowing, literally glowing, and I had to restore some sort of balance here or I was about to break my code of ethics and bury my face in her lap.

“I need to show Calvin where his litter box is. Then I’ll take a look at your designs before the first appointment of the day.”

As I left the room, her voice floated after me.

“Oh, and while I find women to be beautiful, Ramsay, I prefer men.”

My blood heated, and I glared down at where Calvin bit my finger, testing his strength on me.

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