Page 82 of Scotch & Dreams

“Sounds serious.” Alex eyed him. Lachlan rolled the whisky in his glass and took a sip. The concept of being in love was taking up residence in his mind.

“Aye.” He felt his lips tug in an almost smile while both his brothers stared at him as if they'd seen a ghost.

A wide grin cracked on Drew’s face. "I ken it. I ken it that day! I've never seen ye so fired up about a lass. For the record, I am truly sorry for what I said that day. I ken I was an absolute shite.”

"What did ye say?" Alex asked, brow arched. He nodded to Kian to bring them another round.

Lachlan interjected before Drew said something that would make Lachlan have to deck him again. "He was a crude arsehole, and I punched him fer it."

Alex's eyes widened as his glass paused midway to his mouth. “Aye?” he asked as though he’d never heard anything more outlandish in his thirty years on this earth.

"Aye, I was," Drew admitted. "And he did.”

"Well, the crude arsehole part doesnae surprise me, but ye punched him, Lachlan?" There was also a twinkle of pride in his eyes when he looked at his twin.

"He did. It was a good one too—knocked me out." Drew boasted, proudly.

“Impressive, Saint." Alex grinned, slapping him on the back—apparently proud of him too. "She must really be something."

"Christ, ye two," Lachlan snapped. "Ye ken I'm no' really a bloody saint."

“She is so bonnie, though,” Drew added as if it needed to be said.

Lachlan glared at him and then took another sip of his whisky. “Aye, she is verra beautiful. Fucking perfect if ye really must ken. And ye both better keep yer traps shut if ye ken what’s good fer ye.”

His brothers stared at him as if he'd grown highland cow horns.

"Right, well, I am glad that ye arenae dating the MacDonald woman anymore. Am I allowed to say that?” Drew ribbed him.

"Aye, I agree. I never liked that one," Alex said, scanning the bar that had suddenly become crowded. Not a surprise on a Saturday night. Lachlan only nodded. He still wondered how he'd been so blind as to date Anna at all.

"I'm proud of ye, too, for telling her where to shove her damn money," Drew added knocking back the rest of his whisky.

"And just how do you ken about that anyway?” Lachlan shot him a look.

"Rolo told me. At the gala.”

"Ye were at the gala?" Lachlan eyed Drew, who'd gotten distracted by a group of lasses at a nearby table.

"Aye, I only popped in briefly. I wanted to find a date for the night." He winked. "Speaking of which, I'll be right back." He stood and swaggered over to the table of lasses—the master of flirting.

"Same old Drew," Alex echoed Lachlan's thoughts.

Alwaysthe flirt. Lasses on the brain non-stop. Although he did seem different. He'd grown up a lot. That chip on his shoulder was no longer there.

"So it would seem. But I confess, I like him better now. He’s not that angry kid anymore.”

“Aye, thank God.”

They sat in companionable silence before Alex asked, “Did ye really tell off Anna MacDonald?"

"Perhaps not my proudest moment, but she had it coming.”

"That's no' like ye, Lachlan." Alex eyed him.

It was true. Lachlan was usually easygoing and let things roll off him. This time was different, though, and he didn't regret it for a moment. "Rolo overheard Anna talking down to Violet, trying to make her feel bad. I think she was just jealous, though. Violet is everything Anna is not.”

"Violet? The ‘fucking perfect’ one?" Alex arched a brow, mimicking his brother’s words.

---