Page 12 of The Rescue

“I don’t know how you’re not freezing to death,”Rabbie says as he tucks his hands under his armpits.

“It gets cold in Boston too, you know,” I laugh.

He nudges me with his shoulder. “Aye, but most people wear winter clothes there too.”

“Sugar, I’ve told you I’m not like most people,” I wink at him.

“I’m starting to realise that.” He laughs.

His laugh is gentle and effortless. I could listen to it all day, especially rolling around in the sheets with him. Rabbie has loosened up a bit, and the conversation between us is more relaxed with a hint of playful banter. I can’t help but get lost in salacious thoughts when he looks at me with his soft green eyes.

It’s mid October and the weather here is already close to arctic, but I’m not letting on to Rabbie that I’m freezing cold. I will never sacrifice looking good for the weather. It’s that icy cold, I can’t feel my toes, they’ve gone completely numb.

The shoulder nudge throws me off guard, is he just being friendly, or is he finally flirting with me? I’ve been trying to flirt with him all day, but he’s not picking up on any of my advances, and it’s starting to frustrate the hell out of me. It’s not usually this hard for me to get a guy swooning over me. He brings me coffee and sandwiches and nothing.Just business.

The tiny main street of Crossmackie is quiet, and it’s a stark contrast to the busy city life I’m used to. I like the bustling, metropolitan life of Boston. This place reminds me too much of the small town I’m from back home in Tennessee. And with that some a slew of unpleasant memories. As a woman, growing up in the south was hard, the expectation of me was high and I didn’t deliver. I was constantly lectured by the women in my family.Sit up straight, you’re slouching. Smile, no boy will want to take you to prom if you constantly frown. Don’t eat too much sugar, it’s bad for you. Your curfew is earlier than your brother’s because you’re a girl.

My older brothers had a different upbringing to me even though we have the same parents and lived in the same house. It wasn’t fair that I had to bend to all the societal rules because I’m a female, and my brothers could go and do whatever they pleased. My mama’s voice echoes in my head–“boys will be boys.”

I’m brought back from my memories of home when we stop outside The Drunken Duck and Rabbie opens the door for me with a huge smile on his face.

“After you,” his broad Scottish accent makes my stomach flutter.

“Thanks.”

I feel my flush as I brush past him, and his sweet, musky scent fills my nose. It’s not cologne that makes him smell so good, but his natural pheromones. It’s subtle, and not overpowering like most men who wear cologne, and it has myknees buckling. I grab on to the door to stop myself from tripping over the step. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice this, and I quickly compose myself.

We enter The Drunken Duck to find it packed with the whole town, all eyes landing on us standing in the doorway. I catch a few of the locals whispering to each other behind their drinks. I brush away the feeling of uneasiness that small town gossip brings, and walk over to the table in the corner to find Dylan and Cam snuggling up together. They’re a cute couple, I’ll give them that, but sometimes I wish they would seriously get a room. I swallow the hard lump of envy. I’m jealous of the affection and the chemistry. I know I’ll never want a love story like theirs, but fuck, I miss being touched and kissed by someone. I don’t do serious relationships for good reasons, but it still leaves a longing for connection. Cam looks down at Dylan tucked into his side and whispers something in her ear, and by the instant shade of pink spreading across my best friend’s face and the way she gently slaps his stomach tells me that I’m going to have another restless night.

Dylan spots me walking over and breaks away from Cam’s tight embrace, he still keeps a hand resting on her leg, which I find endearing. I can tell he cares about her a lot, and frankly she deserves it after she wasted two years of her life with the biggest douchebag back in Boston.

“Hey, how was your day?” Dylan asks as I lean down over her, giving her a quick hug.

Cam gives me a small smile, he’s not one for hugging or smiling much.

“Yeah, it was good, I’ve started on the basics. And Rabbie has started fattening me up with all of his yummy food. I’ll have to start running longer than five miles a day.”

I look back over at the bar to find Rabbie ordering drinks, and chatting away to the locals. I can tell he’s so admired in thissmall town, everyone always looks so happy to see him. His tall, lean frame towers over most people as he shakes hands with Mac behind the bar.

My mind flicks back to the other night when I was alone, picturing Rabbie’s large hands running all over my body. My face flushes and the heat between my legs ignites. I blink away the dirty thoughts running wild in my head.

“Aye, I canny resist one of Rabbie’s famous scones, with jam and cream.” Cam chuckles.

Cam is usually very quiet and reserved, but he lights up whenever he talks about the people he loves, and clearly, Rabbie is one of them. I can see that Cam is proud of Rabbie, but he is also very protective of his best friend, who is practically his brother. Dylan told me that Rabbie had a crappy childhood and his parents weren’t around, but she didn’t go into too many details.

I picture Rabbie as a small boy, lonely and craving love, and my heart breaks for him. That thought is soon broken when I spot him walking over with a tray of drinks and a beaming smile across his face.Fuck, he’s so sexy.

He squeezes right down next to me and his solid, round shoulder bumps into mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and there’s nothing more I’d like to do than run my nails down his muscular back. He hands me a pint of the gross beer that looks and tastes like pond water. A small chuckle escapes his lips, I’m guessing from the disgusted look on my face.

“You canny hate it that much,” he raises his eyebrow at me with a playful smirk on his face. He takes a sip of his beer, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. What I would give to run a trail of kisses down his neck. I catch myself staring at him, and avert my eyes before anyone catches on that I’m eye fucking my boss, client, whatever you wanna call him. I fidget in my seat, being in close quarters with him is making me antsy.

“Well, you’ve clearly never been to Boston and had a Ward Eight,” I sigh at the thought.

He licks the foam from his lips, and I wish I didn’t see it because it’s not helping the raging heat between my legs. “A what?” He looks at me confused.

“It’s a cocktail, made from rye whisky with lemon and orange juice and a splash of grenadine,” my mouth salivates at the thought. As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realise how pretentious and snobby it sounds.

Rabbie looks at me with one eyebrow raised, with a small grin on his face. “Well, you won’t find any fancy cocktails here.”

---