Page 128 of Some Like It Scot
A crash sounded from upstairs, followed by a scream, and Brett shot Jess a look before both of them dashed off in the direction of the noise. With all the curious nooks and crannies of this turn-of-the-century home—and over fifty acres to explore—this was the perfect place to raise an energetic family who had a whole lot of love in them.
I chuckled again and started toward the kitchen when the sound of another car door detoured my steps to the front door.
I froze.
My breath caught.
Standing in my front yard near a little red Toyota was Graeme MacKerrow, looking a little lost and a whole lot of gorgeous. I gave my head a little shake. Graeme? Here? I pushed open the screen door and stepped out on the porch, still unsure whether I should believe my eyes or not. After all, I’d not slept very well for a few days, so daydreams were possible.
And daydreaming about him was unavoidable.
His gaze held mine, as if measuring my response to him being here, but my pulse seemed to know the rhythm of this meeting.
He wore jeans and a blue button-down, which did his shoulders and chest all sorts of favors. Not that they needed any help. As a matter of fact, fatigue hadn’t hurt my X-ray vision one bit. I took a few slow steps forward, making it to the bottom of the porch.
He neared, hands in his pockets, before stopping a few feet from touching distance. “This... this place is fair impossible to find.”
I loved his voice. “It can be,” I rasped, afraid to blink.
We stood in silence. I just kept staring because I wasn’t quite sure if what I was seeing was real. Graeme MacKerrow in little old Waynesville, North Carolina?
And then the implications of his traveling across the world to this tiny part of the Blue Ridge Mountains registered in my mind. It could mean only one thing.
He’d come for me.
Me.
The man who didn’t leave home. The man whose heart had a triple-lock hold on the Highlands. The man who offered a no-strings-attached relationship?
“It’s a lovely place.” He gestured toward the house with his chin. “And the mountains remind me of home.”
I smiled then. “Yeah, they do.” I shifted a little closer, stuffing my own hands in my pockets. “It’s been in the family for over a hundred years.”
He nodded, looking away and back. “Family land is good to have.”
“Yeah, gives a sense of roots, I’ve heard.”
His lips quirked up on one side, and he studied the landscape with renewed interest... avoiding my face. Was he nervous? My heart swelled with so much emotion my chest ached.
I loved him.
“But it’s not going to be mine for much longer.”
His gaze fastened on mine. “It’s not?”
“I... I’m signing it over to my brother Brett and his wife, Jessica, because”—I drew in a breath, taking the risk—“I realized that this place isn’t really home for me anymore.”
“No?” He edged a step closer, the wariness in those eyes shifting into something much more confident. Knee-weakeningly confident.
I shook my head. “I’ve fallen in love with a different place.” My voice shook as he closed the distance with another step forward. “Different people.”
“Have you now?” The dip in his octave stole my breath a little.
“Aye.” My word shivered a little. “With... with Scotland.”
He paused only a second before taking another step. “Scotland?”
I shrugged. “And Lachlan.”
