Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BLAIR
I wake to the soft sound of waves against pebbles and a delicious ache between my thighs that brings last night flooding back in vivid detail. A smile tugs at my lips before I’m even fully conscious.
Lachlan. His hands exploring every inch of my body. The way he’d looked at me—reverent, hungry, completely undone. The feel of him finally inside me, moving with careful control until it broke into something raw and desperate.
Jesus. The man knew what he was doing.
I stretch languidly in the narrow bed, savouring the pleasant soreness, the echo of pleasure still warming me.
Last night wasn’t frantic like the first time.
He’d held on, slowed down, made it last. Which meant, hallelujah, I actually got the full experience this time.
And afterward... the way he just held me, like he couldn’t bear to let go.
Rolling over, I squint at my phone. Nearly nine. I pad to the kitchenette in just my underwear and vest, putting the kettle on for coffee.
As I wait for it to boil, reality creeps back in around the edges of the afterglow still clinging to me.
What the hell am I doing?
The thought hits me as I’m spooning instant coffee into a mug. I came to Scotland to escape complications, to live simply for a few months while I figured out my next move. Instead, I’ve somehow gotten myself tangled up with a widower and his six-year-old son.
This isn’t some breezy summer fling with a charming local. He lost his wife. His son lost his mom. This is real-life heartbreak territory—with a ticking clock because eventually I’ll have to leave.
The kettle clicks off, and I pour the boiling water, watching the coffee crystals swirl and dissolve. I take a tentative sip, then another.
Ugh. I never drink instant at home. Thought I might get used to it after a few days here, but nope. It’s just not good. Better than nothing, though, and the caffeine does bite through the fog.
Do I regret last night? God, no. How could I regret sex that good? But standing here alone in the morning light, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m in way over my head.
My phone buzzes.
Ellie
Still on for our Sunday adventure? x
Blair
Absolutely. Need it more than you know x
Maybe a day away from this place, from Lachlan and all these messy feelings, is what I need to get my head straight.
The to-go coffee from the Lighthouse Café is a godsend. Proper coffee, none of that instant crap. That’s more like it.
Ellie and I follow the coastal path that winds above Ardmara, the town spread out below us like a picture postcard. The wind whips my hair around my face, carrying the salt tang of the sea and the distant cries of gulls wheeling overhead.
“The view from up here is amazing,” I say, pausing to look back at the harbour.
“Mm-hmm,” Ellie says absently, then launches into what sounds suspiciously like a melody under her breath as we continue walking.
“Okay, I have to ask, what’s with all the humming? You’ve been at it since we left the café.”
Ellie winces. “Was I? Sorry. I’ve got the summer festival coming up, and I can’t stop running through songs in my head.”
“You perform? That’s amazing! What do you play? Please tell me it’s the bagpipes.”
She laughs. “Fiddle. I’m in a wee band with a couple of guys.” She glances sideways at me. “One of them is Struan. You know, guitar, curls, thinks he’s irresistible.”
I snort. “Flirty Struan, of course. Not a bad guy, though—when he’s not waggling his eyebrows. But I bet you wish it was Douglas in the band instead. Right?”
“Blair!” She nudges me with her elbow. “You’re terrible. Anyway, seems I’m not the only one with a creative streak. I overheard Finn saying at the library that you’re working on a story.”
“I am! Or I was.” I sip my coffee, watching a fishing boat carve across the water. “Been a bit... distracted lately.”
“Oh?” Ellie tips her head. “You did say something in your text about needing this adventure.”
I think about deflecting, but who am I kidding? I’ve never been great at keeping my mouth shut. And being here, far away from anyone who knows the New York version of me, makes it way too easy to overshare.
“I had sex with Lachlan,” I blurt. “Twice.”
Ellie nearly chokes on her coffee, her eyes going wide. “You what?”
“Well,” I plough on, because apparently my mouth has decided we’re doing this, “the first time was him taking care of me. Best oral sex of my life.” I let my head fall back and stare dreamily up at the blue sky.
“But then last night we went the whole way, and... let’s just say that man knows what he’s doing.
” I bring my fingers to my mouth in a chef’s kiss.
“Could barely walk straight this morning.”
When I glance at Ellie, her cheeks are the colour of ripe tomatoes.
“Oh! Too much?”
“No!” she says quickly, then laughs at herself. “God, I sound like a shy librarian cliché, don’t I? Trust me, I’ve dog-eared plenty of spicy chapters in my time. I’m just not used to talking about such things quite so openly.”
I quirk an eyebrow. This is openly? Ellie should hear the director’s cut running in my head.
But maybe in a small Highland town, people are a bit more reserved than I’m used to.
Pretty sure Lachlan would sooner discuss tide charts than fingering techniques.
Which just goes to show, you don’t need to be able to say something to be very, very good at it.
Last night he hit every spot like he had a map.
Ellie leans closer, almost conspiratorial. “I’ll admit, Lachlan struck me as more... schedules and rulebooks than bedroom acrobatics.”
I grin. “Oh, he’s disciplined, all right. Just in the fun ways too. I mean, if he wanted to lay down the law, I’d obey.”
“Blair!” Ellie squeaks, clapping a hand over her mouth. And then we both lose it, laughter spilling out and carried away by the wind. A nearby sheep looks up mid-chew, fixes us with a judgemental stare, then goes back to grazing like our conversation is beneath its notice.
We keep walking, our laughter trailing off as the path curves around a headland and the coastline stretches wide and glittering in front of us.
“But honestly?” I say. “It’s complicated.
He’s a widower, Finn lost his mother, and I’m only here for a short time.
Also, sure, the sex is great, but there’s something else too.
Behind all that gruff ferry-captain stuff.
.. there’s a side to him that gets under my skin.
Yesterday we spent the whole day at this beach—Traigh Bàn—and it was just.
.. perfect. He was relaxed, Finn was happy, and I kept getting these stupid little butterflies in my stomach.
” I shake my head. “Which is ridiculous. I didn’t come here for butterflies. I came here for escape.”
Ellie is quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.
“Well, if we got to pick who we fancied, life would be a lot simpler. I’d have picked someone a little less complicated.
As for Lachlan, I think he probably needs someone to shake him out of his grief.
If it’s helping him, and you’re enjoying yourself, what’s the issue?
So long as Finn’s not stepping over discarded clothes in the hallway, it seems harmless enough. ”
She gives a little self-deprecating smile and tucks a lock of dark-blonde hair behind her ear. “Listen to me, pretending I know about these things. But if it feels right... maybe it is right.”
I consider this as we walk, then link my arm through hers. “You know what, Ellie?”
“What?”
“You’re pretty wise for someone who blushes at sex talk.”
By the time I get back to the granny flat, it’s late. I insisted on treating Ellie to dinner at the Ferryman’s Rest, payback for the meal she made me my first night here, and the picnic she packed for our standing stones adventure. We may have lingered for a drink or two after we finished eating.
I should just crawl into bed. Instead, I find myself padding across the yard.
It’s long past Finn’s bedtime, and the main house is lit soft and low.
I knock lightly at the back door. After a moment it opens, and there’s Lachlan, in a soft T-shirt that hugs his chest and shoulders, and grey sweatpants that hug plenty too, if you catch my drift.
“Blair.” The corner of his mouth curls. “Wasn’t sure if I’d be seeing you before tomorrow.” He leans in a fraction, nostrils flaring. “Is that wine I smell?”
“Do you have a captain’s hat?” I say, ignoring his question.
His brow furrows. “Aye. But I don’t usually wear it. More of a special occasion thing.”
My gaze drifts down his body, slow and deliberate, pausing shamelessly at the bulge in those sweatpants. He really does fill them out nicely. When I finally drag my eyes back up, a wicked smile tugs at my mouth. “I’d like to see you in it. And only it.”
I lay my hand on his firm chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart through cotton, and push him back a step into the kitchen. I slip in after him, nudging the door shut with my heel.
“Can you sort that out for me, captain?”
His half-smile stretches into something darker, hungrier. “Aye.”