Page 87 of Charlie

He immediately drops my hand. "Fuck. No disrespect meant. I'm Ewan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Ewan," I laugh. I introduce myself to the other band members and turn back toward Isla and the burgers Greer sets in front of us. "They seem nice," I say, "have you dated any of them?"

"All of them." She grimaces.

I choke on my drink. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! This is a tiny island. I'm pretty sure I've dated everyone in my age range that lives here. So, at this point, I'm either out of luck, or I have to wait until some god somewhere decides to drop one in my lap." She drowns her feelings in her burger, taking an enormous bite.

The door opens again and I look over my shoulder, fully expecting it to be the guys. "Or three...?"

Isla's jaw drops as three men amble in. The first is dark and brooding and looks ready for a fight. The second has a more slender build, sparkling caramel eyes and an easy grin. The third... oh my. Dark hair curls around his ears, the perfect backdrop for mischievous blue eyes. Full lips and a cleft in his chin perfectly round out his features. He's stacked. The kind of muscles that don't just come from the gym.

"Isla!" I hiss. "Chew your food!" When she doesn't move, I put my finger under her chin and close her mouth, then shove a napkin into her hand. I watch her features change: shock morphs into interest, and then her eyelids droop the tiniest bit as lust slides home.

I take another bite of my burger to hide my grin. This is going to be fun.

48

Isla sets down her burger and wipes her mouth, her gaze tracking the trio as they make their way up to the bar. One of them slides onto a barstool, the other two following suit.

"What can I get you," Isla asks, her voice husky and low. I cover my smile with my napkin and glance around to make sure there aren't any customers at my tables. When I see that I'm in the clear, I turn back to watch them. Isla is setting down pints of beer in front of them, leaning over the bar to hear them over the music. She points to the specials board and all three of them nod.

"Dylan," the guy closest to me extends his hand over the empty seat between us.

His easy smile teases out one of my own. "Charlie. Is that an American accent I hear?"

He laughs sheepishly. "It is. My brothers and I are over here on vacation. What about you?"

"Work," I say, immediately feeling guilty that I've condensed my time here into that one word. "What do you think so far?"

"Honestly? I wasn't so sure at first. Glasgow wasn't my cup of tea. Skye was much better."

"And how does Harris stack up?" I ask, popping my last fry into my mouth, following it with the last gulp of my drink.

"Harris is..." He pauses, searching for the right words. "Wild. Invigorating." He shrugs. "That doesn't do it justice. I feel alive here."

I nod. "I feel the same way. It's a special place, that's for sure." I stand, collecting my plate and glass. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here."

"You’re leaving?"

"I'm helping Isla out tonight. Some folks just came in – I need to go take their orders."

"Her name’s Isla?" He glances over to where she's slinging bottles like she's in the Cirque du Soleil.

"Just be careful, she's spicy," I warn him with a grin.

The crowd picks up as we near seven o'clock. True to her word, there is always at least one table free, most people seeming to prefer to stay on their feet either around the bar or dancing in the open area by the entrance. The guys still have their butts planted on their stools, all three watching Isla with rapt attention. She's doing a great job of ignoring them. I stop for a drink just as Greer brings out their food: three plates piled high with gigantic shrimp-like creatures. All three of them look at Greer with panic in their eyes.

She yells for Isla to help them, then heads back to the kitchen, chuckling.

Isla stands in front of the grumpy brother and picks up one of the langoustines. "First, you twist off their heads." The shell snaps, causing Dylan to jerk in his seat. I'm barely able to stifle a snort. "Then you suck out the juices. Do you mind if I eat this one?" she asks the grumpy one, her lips twisting as she holds in her laughter.

"Fine," he grumbles.

She closes her lips around the shell and tips her head back, sucking out all the good stuff. My gaze swings to the beefy brother and I watch his Adam's apple bob, his teeth lodged in his bottom lip. I look back at Isla, her gaze locked with his as she licks her lips.

I cough to hide my laugh and turn back to my tables before I ruin it for her.

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