Page 2 of Back in the Saddle

His dark, ruffled hair was just long enough to brush the top of his dark green shirt, stretched over what she could see even from here were well-defined muscles, but the most interesting thing about him was his piercing grey eyes. They looked almost silver in the bar’s artificial light.

‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ she asked.

‘Not yet.’ The man shrugged with a playful smile. ‘I’m sorry about your book. I startled you.’

Caroline’s green eyes met his. That warm smile … Maybe it was just the fact that his smile reached his eyes, and the effect was interesting overall? Or maybe it was the fact that his smile looked so sincere?

‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it,’ she said, feeling a slight pang of emotion. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled that way. ‘It’s just a book.’

‘Books are neverjustbooks,’ he said incredulously.

She glanced at him, trying to estimate his age.

He looked like he could be a couple of years or so younger than her. He might be twenty-eight or maybe twenty-six. Or maybe he was thirty. She had never been great at pinning down someone’s exact age.

He cocked his head, the cheeky smile still plastered to his face. ‘Can I join you? I owe you a drink, too.’

Mid-to-late twenties, she decided. ‘You can join me, though I’m not in a talkative mood. And I heard I’m not the best conversation partner.’

His smile widened. ‘That is the worst conversation starter I’ve ever heard.’

‘Case in point.’

‘Point taken.’

Caroline shrugged. ‘Just trying to be honest.’

‘Why don’t we start again? I can tell from your accent you’re Irish, I think.’ He paused, observing her reaction. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

Caroline bit back a smile. ‘So what if you are?’

He surprised her. She thought her accent was difficult to discern. She had been born and raised in Aberdeen, but both of her parents were Irish. As a result, her accent was a unique mix of soft Irish with some Scottish mixed in.

‘But if you told me you were say, Australian, I’d just gowith it.’ He clasped his hands on top of the bar. ‘Doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t change the scene we’re in.’

‘And what scene is that?’ She leaned back, not wanting to show how intrigued she was.

He cocked his head to the left and scratched his chin. It was covered with a short stubble, like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days.

‘Two strangers meeting in a bar. Sounds like an opening of a romcom.’

Caroline laughed, tucking a strand of her dark blonde hair behind her right ear. She wasn’t sure Finn even knew what a romcom was. She pushed thoughts of him away. They were over, and there was nothing wrong with a little flirting.

‘Oh, I see. You’re not only cheeky; you’re presumptuous too.’

‘I prefer to call it confident.’ He looked into her eyes again and the tension she felt a moment ago was replaced by fluttering. Butterflies? There was just something about him … She couldn’t put her finger on it.

‘If it was an opening scene in a romcom, there’d have to be some chemistry between the characters.’

He let out a low, warm laugh. ‘And you don’t think there is?’

The air crackled with something equally terrifying and exciting.

Caroline swallowed and changed the topic. ‘Can I ask what you’re drinking?’

‘Glencadam. Fifteen years old.’ He brought the glass up to his mouth, taking another sip. ‘Yourself? I mean, before it spilled?’

‘Knockando. Twelve years old.’ She smiled, shaking her head. ‘Glencadam’s a good choice.’

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