Page 3 of Back in the Saddle

‘You sound surprised.’

She felt her cheeks burning. It was the whisky’s fault, she thought. Ignoring the intensity of his gaze, she cleared her throat.

‘Well, we’re in Oklahoma and youareAmerican. Sometimes I wonder if Jack Daniel’s is considered the height of what passes as good alcohol over here.’

‘We do have bourbon.’

‘True, that you do.’

She inhaled, eager to stomp down on her annoyingly beating heart. This was a normal reaction to meeting a handsome stranger who just happened to flirt with her, right? Anyone would get flustered. There was nothing to see here.

He ordered another double for himself and one for Caroline. When their drinks arrived, they clinked glasses and took an appreciative sip simultaneously.

‘I always knew Scottish whisky was superior to Irish whiskey, but you’ve just confirmed it for me,’ he said.

Stop staring at him. You’re behaving like you’ve never seen a man before.

‘My parents moved to Scotland from Ireland shortly after getting married. So, I was actually born and raised there. But I spent my summers outside Dublin. Guess developing a biased taste for single malt was inevitable, despite my grandfather’s best efforts.’

‘Not sure I’d call it biased. More like, the right taste.’ He bloody winked at her.

Her cheeks heated and she really wished she had a fan stashed in her teal leather handbag. Maybe the air conditioning had stopped working. It had been a stiflingly hot day.

‘Careful or my dad will hear you all the way over in Ireland.’ She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘He moved back when I wentto university. And he’s decisively patriotic in his drink choices.’

The man propped his elbow on the bar, resting his chin on his open palm. ‘So, I’m meeting your dad now? I’m not sure I’m ready for this kind of commitment.’

His laughter was drowned by the high-pitched giggles and excited voices of a group of women walking into the bar.

Caroline narrowed her eyes at a white sash around a tall one’s chest.Bride to be.

A sudden urge to rip the piece of shiny material, to grab the woman by the shoulders and shake her, to tell her marriage and love were the biggest shams, coiled in Caroline’s gut. She tugged on the sleeves of her mauve silk shirt so that her fingers had something else to do. If she wanted to go back to practising medicine next year, she couldn’t get arrested for an assault on a perfect stranger.

Maybe the woman was going to be the lucky one and grow old and grey with her partner.

Maybe not everyone’s marriage was doomed.

Perhaps it’s just me. I’m the problem.

CHAPTER TWO

Caroline

It might’ve been five minutes or an hour later. Caroline had lost track of time. She exhaled, stashing the thoughts into a black box inside her head. She was in a bar, thousands of miles from home. Tonight wasn’t the night to despair about the sad state of her life. There would be time to dance on its ashes later.

‘5 Leaf Clover’ by Luke Combs was playing now.

Awkward interior aside, The Rouge Scot had both an excellent whisky and music selection.

The handsome stranger didn’t leave. He was still sitting on the charcoal vegan leather bar stool, now tapping his fingers against the bar surface. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a very nice set of forearms.

Caroline swallowed.

Surely, this was some kind of joke. All she had wanted was a peaceful night with whisky and a book to calm her nervesbefore starting a new job on Monday. Now, her book and peace were both ruined.

Bloody forearms.

His head was turned away from her and towards the bartender. He didn’t see the practically ravenous way her eyes soaked in everything about him. From his forearms to his tousled dark hair, even the denim of his jeans and the brown belt he wore. Her mind whirled with vivid images of what she’d see if she untucked and unbuttoned his shirt.

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