Page 20 of Some Like It Scot
My mouth struggled with something between a smile and a whimper. Why couldn’t I shake these ladies? They were harder to elude than a bloodhound on the hunt. My breath caught. Maybe they smelled my growing fear.
“Do you miss bein’ away from home?”
I looked over at Mirren, my trained response waiting on the end of my tongue, but the look in her eyes stopped me. Her gaze probed, sifted, and somehow pulled truth out of my mouth. “I... I miss what home could be, I guess.”
My face paled. Had I just said that out loud?
And what was worse? I actuallymeantit. I hadn’t even sorted out what home was yet. How could I miss what itcouldbe?
If I stayed here much longer, I’d break down into a weepy mess in front of a bunch of strangers, and to my shock, all I really wanted to do was curl up inside Mirren’s arms and cry like a baby on her shoulder while she cooed sweet Scottish comforts in my ear.
But that was insane.
That I actually felt the desire to bare my soul to the lovely bookshop owner.
Whom I’d just met less than an hour ago.
Suddenly the door of the bookshop opened and a familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette framed the threshold. My heart crawled right up into my throat and closed off any air I’d planned to breathe, as a terrifying realization dawned in my befuddled mind.
I didn’t necessarilyneedit, but I desperatelywanteda grumpy, barrel-chested, blue-eyed Scot to rescue me.
Chapter 5
Graeme
I’ve never been a fan of surprises.
Even when a lad.
But as soon as I walked into Mum’s bookshop, I was gobsmacked by a ginger-headed surprise. The very American I’d hoped to avoid as much as possible sat cooried up next to Mum in the corner of the bookshop with the granny book club crowding in on all sides.
Like she somehow belonged right in the midst of them.
And what was worse? The poor hen looked as feart as a rabbit in a wolf’s den. Those murky blue eyes of hers met mine as I entered the shop, all hints of the fiery lass from earlier that morning gone, replaced by a desperate vulnerability. Something in my chest twisted into a Double Davy knot.
She needed to be rescued.
My shoulders drooped as the realization unfurled into an ache behind my rib cage. And I would be the eejit to do it. I only fought against retreat for a second. The hardest thing about planning to rescue someone was when you couldn’t. No matter how hard you tried.
My heart had been soundly throttled by the last woman I’d rescued. After two years together and a short engagement, her wandering heart not only found someone new but led her to a new life in Edinburgh. I’d thought we’d come to a compromise to make it work. But somewhere along the way, without letting me know, she’d stopped loving me and the idea of Mull in her future.
Then she left.
Like Greer. Except God alone could have rescued my sister. And He had. Just not here. The knot in my chest tightened to the painful place.
Playing hero proved a dangerous game between hope and failure. And I was full-up of failure.
My attention focused back on the ginger-headed American, and my jaw tensed with added resolve. Well, at least this rescue didn’t involve hearts or cancer. I could manage this one—my attention swept the gaggle of ladies who’d known me my whole life—maybe.
“How did you trap one of the Craighill guests here already, ladies?”
All eyes turned toward me, but my focus remained on the American. She sighed and mouthed the wordsthank youbefore unfurling a smile I felt all the way to my spine. I should’ve turned back right then. The parrot and stair railing episodes gave clear warning, but instead, my feet stayed glued to the pine floors of the bookshop, confirming how mental I was.
“Well now, Graeme MacKerrow, what are you doing stopping by this morn? Come for your regular cup of coffee?” Mum stood, bringing the American with her. “Katie, have you met my son? He’s up at the house something regular working on the repairs and stairs and such.”
Katie’s grin wobbled, as if she wrestled with it. “We’ve bumped into each other once or twice.”
She raised her brows in silent amusement about her pun, and I forced my grin under control. Getting friendly with a social media personality from America wasn’t on my to-do list for the day... or year.
