Page 66 of Highland Hearts Holiday Bookshop

Iwaved to a local woman as I crossed the street, tote bag on my shoulder, humming to myself. It had been less than two weeks since I’d arrived in Scotland and already, I felt part of this community. How had that happened so seamlessly? Was that the nature of small towns everywhere or was it just because the bookshop was a natural hub for people? Was it because of Moira and her wacky legacy?Was I actually like her?

Either way, I liked it.

Jessica was right, Scottish Rosie was great.

I liked the Rosie that I was becoming here. At home, I’d been stuck in a routine that it had taken a pretty drastic event to shake me out of. I’d become a complacent,even bland version of myself, and that thought stopped me in my tracks as I crested a small hill on the gravel road to Alexander’s house.

Here I’d been putting the blame on others for being boring or bland, when I’d gone right along with it myself, hadn’t I? It was easier for me to look to my boyfriends to spice things up or make life interesting than it had been for me to take the reins myself. I’d allowed my fear of taking risks—induced by a childhood of being out of control—to keep me stagnant. It hadn’t just been that I’d picked tepid partners, I had also made tepid choices.

It had felt safe to me. Which I am sure many a psychologist would gently point to childhood trauma and give me numerous reasons for why I’d been making the choices I had.

“I don’t want to play it safe anymore!” I cried out, the wind ripping my words from my mouth and carrying them across the field. Immediately panic loomed.

“Wait, no, no. I was kidding. I definitely want to play it safe,” I called out, just in case the universe got confused on what I’d meant about playing it safe. I’d already done my huge adventurous choice by hopping on that plane and moving my life here. That was enough big adventure for me for a long time. I didn’t need to jump into the deep end when I was just learning how to swim. I never understood people who suggested that method of learning. Surely there was a more methodical and incremental approach than shock therapy?

I was a list girl. Organized.Step by step.

And so I would push myself out of my comfort zone, but it would have to be on my terms.

I wanted this to work.

Down to the very marrow of my bones, I could feel how much I wanted this experience to be a fruitful one for me. I didn’t just want to dabble in bookselling and grow bored and jaded with it within time. I wanted to constantly improve the store, host events, write books, meet new friends, and become a welcomed member of the little community here. I wanted to explore Scotland and immerse myself in her history, and dream about days past while wandering along crumbling castle walls.

I turned a corner in the road and Alexander’s house came into view.

My heart clenched as he rounded the house, not seeing me, a piece of wood on his shoulder.

I wanted him.

There was no explaining it, really, for it seemed too soon. And yet there was also no denying it. Every day he showed up at the shop, even though he worked several jobs and took care of an injured puffin. Still, he made time for a project he’d committed to, he was gentle with the Book Bitches when they were downright overbearing, and he had not been gentle with me in the best ways in that closet the other night. The man was a mass of contradictions. Socially awkward but intensely kind. A computer geek but mind-numbingly sexy. Reserved and shy yet chatty in private.

I was hooked.

Alexander stopped his return around the house and waved when he saw me. Picking up the pace, I laughed as I reached him.

“I’ve only seen your house when it’s dark out. But I get it now, Alexander. I really do. No wonder you’re happy to hunker down by yourself out here.” Turning, I spread my arms out to encompass the incredible view that stretched behind Alexander’s cottage.

Rolling green hills met sand dunes and cliffs, the ocean kissing the shore, birds swooping low to look for a meal. Clouds hung low on the horizon, mere whisps of white in a moody winter sky, and faded winter sunlight speared through, highlighting streaks of light across the slate-blue water. I could look at this endlessly, imagining the mood had to change daily, and wondered if Alexander did just that—sat at his tall windows each morning, staring out over the water.

“Och, it’s a grand spot, isn’t it?” Alexander grinned down at me. His dark hair was rumpled by the wind. He wore a thick canvas coat over a plaid shirt, and he looked solid and strong and real. I wanted to hug him.

“It really is a great view,” I agreed but kept my eyes on him. Appreciation dawned in his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat when he stepped closer, angling me until my back was against the stone wall of his house. Setting the wood against the wall, he pressed himself against me. He slid his hands up the sides of my body, and then pushed my arms over my head, leaning in until his mouthhovered over mine.

A giddy feeling twirled inside me.See? Small risks. Baby steps.

When his mouth slanted across mine, it felt like coming home. Everything clicked into place for me, and I gasped against his lips, hooking one arm around his neck. I felteverythingin this moment. The heat of his mouth, the slap of icy wind against my heated cheeks, the press of his muscular body pushing me back against the stone of the cottage. It was all hot and cold, hard and soft, and the contradictions, much like Alexander himself, were enough to make me mewl in distress at his mouth.

“Shhh, darling.” Alexander pulled back and brushed a thumb over my bottom lip. “The light’s leaving us. Let me show you what I’ve built for Tattie and then we can continue this.”

I wanted to climb this man like a tree and build a house among his branches and … never leave. Never had I been so responsive with a partner before, but something about Alexander’s touch was driving me straight to the edge. It was so clear that before him—not that we are a couple—before Alexander, I had always settled for scraps. I’d never believed I was worthy of someone like this man.

“Can I put your handbag inside?” Alexander asked, bringing me back to the present as I blinked up at him.

“Oh, right. Sure. Well, the tote bag is for Tattie.”

“I’m not sure he’s much for shopping.”

“I meant what is in it.” I rolled my eyes at a grinning Alexander. “I looked up some enrichment things for him. They’re kind of makeshift, but we can give it a go and see what he thinks.”

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