Page 12 of Resisting Mr. Fancy Pants

A perusalof the restaurant yielded nothing until Agan stood from the table he’d been seated at.

“Can I help you?” someone asked.

I faced the woman who stood in my path. “I’m meeting someone.”

Her eyes narrowed with judgment, as if she could tell I didn’t belong.

“Haley.” His voice was like silk and the woman who impeded my path gave him a smile she hadn’t given me.

“I’m sorry,” she said trying to sound nice, though her tone was as bitter as biting into a lemon.

Agan held out a hand. “You’re a bonny lass.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what he’d said, but I said, “Thank you,” anyway. Then I let him lead me to our table while the sourpuss hostess stewed on her jealousy.

Once we were seated, I said, “Does ‘bonny lass’ mean what I think it does?”

His eyes twinkled with mirth. “It means you’re a fine sight for sure.”

Agan looked good, too—tall, handsome and too good to be true. “You aren’t so bad yourself.” I opened my menu and dipped my head to hide the blush I felt creeping up my face.

“Do you like Italian food?” he asked.

“I’ll try anything once.” I paused before saying, “Missed you this morning.”

“Did you? I didn’t think you’d notice.” I gave him a small smile. He added, “I had an early video call.”

“Good to know.” I hid behind the menu again, feeling ashamed of my show of jealousy. “Where are you from?” I was curious about his accent.

“The Highlands,” he said. When I only gave him a puzzled look, he added, “Scotland. At least that is where my mother’s from. My father is from a little country in the North Sea between Scotland and Norway called Soturi.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

He nodded. “Most haven’t. But it’s there.”

The server came and I ordered carbonara. It sounded fancy and delicious. After she left, I asked, “What brings you all the way from Scotland to Montana?”

Though I knew it was business, I wanted to know more. That and I was squirming under his gaze.

“Business for my father.”

I folded my hands and placed my elbows on the table, which was probably unladylike here. I didn’t care. “Let me guess. You’ve come to open a ski lodge or one of those fancy golf courses.” Because that was what people wanted to do. My father had fancied himself one of those businessmen, if Mom were to be believed. But he’d cut and run before Mom learned she was pregnant.

Agan cocked his head to the side. “Do you hear about such things at the diner?”

We got our fair share of gossip at the diner in Mountainside, but that wasn’t why. “A picturesque place like this would bring its fair share of tourists. But if that’s why you’re here, I have an alternative.”

He sat back as I leaned forward. I had ideas, lots of them, and I didn’t want everyone in the restaurant to hear them.

“Mason Creek is beautiful, but you’d get a better price for land in Mountainside. It has the same pretty views, just from the opposite side. You could build a ski lodge on the side of one mountain that could serve double duty as a resort for a golf course below in the valley in the summer. Besides getting the land for half the price, you’d get less resistance from the town. People are hungry for jobs and for things to be all-around better. You could even entice your pick of businesses in the town, like those fancy coffee shops. Ones with nationwide backing. They’d never let you do that in Mason Creek.”

He just sat there.

“You don’t like my idea?”

He chuckled and drank from the glass that had been on the table before I arrived. “No. I didn’t expect to write this off as a business dinner.”

The chip on my shoulder nearly cracked under the weight of his gaze. “Or maybe you didn’t expect that from a waitress.”

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