Page 17 of Grace on the Rocks

Standing up,Bryanrolled his neck and the server handed him another stout. “Liquidcourage, love,” she said with a wink, and he grimaced at her as he headed to the karaoke stage on the other side of the bar.

ChapterFive

If she was being honest,Gracewas mildly disappointed to realize that thepieson offer at theThreePuffinswere various and sundry savory meat and veg pies, not giant portions of apple or rhubarb or whatever fruit pie was popular here.Fruitslice,Diegohad called it.

Of course, it was silly to expectAmericanpie in aScottishpub, butGracewas jet-lagged and her brain filled in the blanks with what she was craving, not what made sense.

The meat pies on nearby plates smelled delicious, but she ordered fish and chips just to show her disdain for pie that wasn’t sweet.Still, she andWessank onto their shared stool, back to back, and she couldn’t help feeling somewhat content as her glass of sauvignon blanc warmed her tummy.

“Maybe it wasn’t a complete mistake,” she said over her shoulder toWes.

“I’m so glad to hear it.”

“You know whatImean.”

“Only mistakeIsee isRebeccabailing, and since that worked out very much in my favor,Icould hardly call it a mistake.Sucksfor her, though.”

“She didn’t bail.Herasshole husband threw a hissy fit until she backed out.”

“Yeah, well, he was herfirstmistake.”

“No argument,”Graceagreed, and they clinked glasses.

The man at the next stool picked up his pint and tipped his flat cap to them before ambling away across the bar soWescould claim his stool.

“Something-something about the kindness of strangers,” she drawled in an exaggeratedSouthernaccent before taking a long swig of her dark ale.Itmade her wince a little, but she licked her lips.

Across the bar, the karaoke crowd was getting raucous as a cute teenaged boy gave an earnest rendition of aTaylorSwifttune while all the young women in the bar swooned.

MaybeGraceshould add a karaoke scene to her draft.Maybethat was the thing to save it, or at least jump start the nonexistent romance.

She sighed.

“Nope,”Wessaid, she of the killer hearing. “Nofretting about your book.Nottonight.”

Grace didn’t bother to pretend she hadn’t been thinking about it. “Idon’t know how to write it,” she moaned.

“Luckily, you’re marooned on a beautiful island with a gorgeous landlord.”

“He’s not gorgeous.He’sa jerk with an overinflated sense of his own forearms.”Shetook a gulp of her wine, trying to blot out the damn tattoo.

“What about his forearms?”

“You’ve seen them.”

“Inspiration will strike.”WesrubbedGrace’sback. “Promise.Justas soon as you tell me what he did to piss you off so bad.Heseems sort of… nice, what with us hijacking his house and all.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, in a grouchyHarrisonFordkind of way.It’shot.”

“You’re deranged.Thatreminds me.”Gracepicked up her phone. “Iwas going to try to find a vacancy.”

“Not!Tonight!”Wesgestured for the bartender to bringGraceanother glass of wine. “We’reall adults.Wecan share space for a few days without bursting into flames.Youguys can even share a bed if you want.”

“I don’t want,”Graceprotested, mentally batting away the image of her bearded landlord with tousled bedhead.Badenough she’d had to do the race of shame from the bathroom to the bedroom in nothing but her towel afterWesley’soffer to share the vibrator had flustered her so much she left her change of clothes behind.Ofcourse he’d been sitting right in the kitchen when she’d come out.Shewasn’t used to having to share space with anyone, let alone a man she’d known little more than five minutes. “Rememberthe part about him being a jerk?”

“I’m just saying.”

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