Page 57 of The Great British Bachelor Chase

“What would you have done if I’d meant it?” I tease.

“Put you out on the side of the road, and had you hike to Ben Nevis,” he replies.

I grin. “It’s beautiful,” I say, taking in the vast, rugged landscape. It’s all deep shades of green, shot through with greys and purples, dramatic under the clouded, rainy skies. “Now I see it, the colors you used to use in your painting. It’s the colors of Scotland.”

“Now, maybe. But it’s different on a clear day. Blue skies, the way the lochs reflect the light… You’ve never seen a green so bright.” Fraser’s voice is full of affection.

“So why did you end up in London?” I ask, puzzled. “You always talked about going back to Scotland after college. Living in Edinburgh, maybe, or out in the country.”

He gives a shrug. “That’s where the money was.”

I sigh. “Right. That.”

What happened? I wonder, watching his proud profile as the hills and valleys speed past outside the windows. Despite the designer suits and irritating obsession with profit margins, I know enough now to see that Fraser isn’t an entirely different person to the boy I knew; last night proved that for sure. He’s still passionate, and brilliant, with a wicked creative streak. He’s still single-minded in his pursuit of what he wants.

He still knows how to make me moan and beg for more…

I flush, trying to push the memories aside. See, this is why falling into bed with my ex was a terrible idea! Bad enough that I would still sometimes fantasize about Fraser and me, calling on those old nostalgic memories. Now, I’ve just given myself a vivid action replay to haunt me—every wild thrust, breathless pant, and thigh-clenchingly sexy moment fresh in my mind in all their full, Technicolor glory.

My phone app says we’re about forty miles from the bridge crossing when we reach an intersection with a gas station, posted forlornly in the middle of an empty valley. Fraser slows, pulling off the road. “We should fill up now. It’ll be bloody expensive on the island.”

The way you filled me up last night, until I was out of my mind from the thick stretch…

“Sure!” I blurt, flushing. “I need to stretch my legs!”

He pulls in, and I make a beeline inside for the grimy public restroom, fighting my way through the chilled winds that are whistling through the valley. Inside, I catch a look at my red cheeks, and groan.

“You have the worst poker face in the world, Jolene Jameson,” I scold myself.

I hurry to take care of business, and then rinse my hands, letting the cold water run over my wrists until my hands are practically frozen; hoping to cool the hell down. Fraser only needs to look at me to know exactly what I’m thinking…

So it’s a good thing he’s kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road since Glasgow.

I sigh, pushing the door open and joining him in the small gas station building.

“We should probably get some food,” Fraser remarks, browsing a snack aisle. “There won’t be much to be had from here on out.”

“Good plan.” I fill my arms with foreign treats: Walker’s curry-flavored crisps, Tunnock’s Teacakes, Cadbury’s fruit-and-nut, and two bottles of Irn-Bru, Fraser’s beloved soda that I’ve always wanted to try. I bypass some suspiciously limp prawn cocktail sandwiches, and settle on some packaged sausage rolls, instead.

I dump all my items onto the checkout and smile at the grizzled old cashier.

“Sure you don’t want anything else?” he jokes, taking in the spread. “I fear ye’ll starve.”

“Iwasthinking about the haggis and cracked pepper crisps…” I agree.

“American,” the guy nods. “On our holidays, are we?”

“Kind of,” I shoot a glance at Fraser, as he adds some protein bars and a bunch of bananas to our haul. In a place like this, he still finds the only thing with nutritional value. “We’re going to visit the Isle of Skye.”

“Not today you won’t,” the man chuckles, ringing up my food.

“What do you mean?” Fraser asks, already tensing beside me.

“Didn’t you hear? Bridge is closed. High winds. Yer liable to go tumbling into the Sound.”

My heart sinks. Another delay? And we were so close to reaching Hugo!

Fraser mutters a curse beside me. “What about the ferry?”

---