Page 87 of Some Like It Scot
Having her “rescue” my awkwardness in demonstrating at the Highland games deepened my interest in her all the more.
But watching her shoot a bow like a warrior maiden—and then teach ridiculous Ana the basics—had my thoughts lodged somewhere between kiss-the-woman-senseless and hold-her-in-my-arms. She came with the wildest combination of ridiculous humor, kindness, intelligence, and beauty. A wonderful combination.
And she didn’t even know it.
After having read a few dozen of her articles and watched a few of her reels, something became clear—Katie didn’t take herself seriously enough to believe she was attractive or desired.
And she was both.Morethan both. The longer I observed her and the more conversations we had, the more my brain started entertaining her future with mine in every scenario. Her heart kept proving more and more worth the winning. She fit in a way Allison never had.
Into conversations.
With Lachlan.
In Glenkirk.
And it didn’t make sense at all because her life contrasted in every way with mine.
But as she rode alongside me in my car toward our surprise destination, the conversation only made me like her more—though she tended to turn the topics away from her family. She mentioned her editor, Dave. And a brother named Brett. Even showed me a photo of the farmhouse she’d inherited from her grandparents, called Lark Hollow Farms. But any probing questions about other family members or her past she met with a deflection back toward me or by sharing a story from her travels.
What was she hiding?
“So where are you taking me to help me overcome my fear of sheep?”
I nodded ahead to a sign along the road. McClean Farms.
She followed my direction and then turned back to me. “A farm?”
“A sheep farm.”
Her eyes rounded. “A sheep farm.”
“Aye.” And my grin tugged wide.
“You’re taking me to an entire farm of sheep?” The pitch in her voice rose.
“Aye.” I nodded. “To show you they’re not to be feared.”
Her bottom lip dropped, and she slapped my arm. “I trusted you, and here you go taking me into the very heart of sheepland.”
“It’s not like we’re going to Mount Doom or anything, Katie. They’re just sheep.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” She pinched her fingers together in her lap so tightly her knuckles turned white. So I reached over and placed my hand over hers.
Her gaze shot to mine.
“I’ll be with ye.”
She blinked a few times, those captivating eyes of hers glistening for the briefest moment. “Okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
I slid a thumb over the back of her hand, her skin soft, cool.
She froze a moment and then cleared her throat but didn’t pull away. “However, I hold you eternally responsible for anybaaadthing that happens.”
And whatever hesitation that had been keeping hold of my heart pinged its release. Puns weren’t my humor of choice, but when her eyes lit up from me using them, they suddenly took on new appeal. “Ewe”—I lengthened the word and raised a brow, watching comprehension dawn on her face with her smile—“can count on me.”
Then she looked down at our hands and, ever so slowly, turned her palm over so that our fingers entwined. Nothing prepared me for the sense of rightness in her hold, the strange sort of certainty. And I wished we weren’t so close to the McClean house. That we had another half hour to ride and talk with her hand in mine. That there weren’t questions between us about futures and homes and where the two would meet.
But Maggie McClean already had the front door open before the car even came to a stop.
