Chapter Two
Gavin Douglas relinquished the soft, warm lips of Jamie MacTaggart with a long sigh, reluctant to give up her sweet flavor one second sooner than necessary. He had to break away now, though. How could he ask a question with her lips fastened to his? Not that he minded the fastening. God, he loved kissing this woman.
He didn't even care about the other people in the outdoor cafe. If they cared about the couple making out in the corner, under the shade of the striped awning, they didn't show it. The Halloween decorations hanging from the awning shielded them even more. The weather gods had gifted them with nice weather today, so they could enjoy the outdoors.
Jamie's cheeks dimpled. "You must have something important to say, otherwise you'd never stop kissing me after a few minutes."
Yeah, their make-out sessions tended to go on for a lot longer.
He loved her Scottish accent, but he loved those dimples even more. The sunshine, muted by the awning, made the green flecks in her hazel eyes glimmer like polished chips of green garnet. He couldn't resist sliding his fingers into her long, golden-brown hair and cupping her cheek in his palm. Her eyes softened, her posture softened, and a pang stabbed into his chest.
Jamie. Perfect, sweet, loving Jamie. She deserved so much better than an unemployed salesman from America.
He just suppressed a wince. Jamie didn't know he'd lost his job. He'd found out only this morning when his boss sent him a damn email to let him know he was laid off thanks to downsizing. What a cliché.
On top of everything else, he hadn't made love to her in three months. Long-distance romance sounded easy, but it generated way more stress than he'd thought it would. All his fault, probably.
"What's wrong?" Jamie asked, her bright smile fading.
"Nothing, I —" Need to tell you I got fired when all I really want to do is ask you a question . His gut twisted. "Uh, well, see…"
"You can tell me, whatever it is." She pressed her small mouth to his. "Do you trust me?"
He swallowed hard, but the tightness in his throat wouldn't let up. "You know I do."
"Then tell me. I'm tougher than I look."
Gavin tried, but the words had gotten lodged in his throat.
She sighed, her lips forming the loveliest little smile of understanding. "You think about it while I powder my nose."
"Your nose looks fine to me."
Jamie laughed softly, her melodic voice tickling his senses. "It's a polite way of saying I need to take a piss."
Hearing words like "piss" come from the mouth of sweet little Jamie always struck him as odd. Her three brothers had taught her to curse, in English and in Gaelic. There was no sight on earth like the vision of Jamie MacTaggart swearing a blue streak in another language at her misbehaving older brothers. Aidan was mostly to blame for Jamie's knowledge of wicked Gaelic, but Lachlan and Rory had played their parts too. Her two older sisters, Fiona and Catriona, didn't swear half as much as his Jamie.
"I'll be a minute," Jamie said.
Gavin watched her sashay across the cafe, navigating around tables and chairs, her hips swaying and her luscious ass framed by the swishing skirt of her flower-print dress. When she'd moved out of sight into the cafe's small interior section, he slumped in his chair. Fingering the square lump in his pants pocket, he let his gaze wander to the street. The outdoor cafe overlooked the main street of Loch Fairbairn, the village Jamie described as "cute" and "romantic." When Gavin had asked where she'd like to have lunch, she of course wanted to come here.
He nudged one of the two plates that had gotten shoved to the center of the table. The remains of their lunch littered the dishes.
This town belonged to Jamie's brother Rory. Not literally, but yeah. The Scottish guy all but owned the place since everybody here thought Rory was a superhero. Jamie's second-oldest brother didn't like Gavin, he knew it, and being in the village where the pod people worshiped Rory was bad enough. The guy was a lawyer too — sorry, a solicitor — who could sue Gavin upside down and sideways if Rory decided Gavin was mistreating his baby sister.
Never mind that Rory's little brother had screwed Gavin's baby sister days after meeting her. Sure, Calli married Aidan last year, but come on. And Rory had married a woman for sex after knowing her for a few days. The guy had no right to feel, well, self-righteous about Gavin's relationship with Jamie.
Feeling bitter really sucked, especially when he couldn't figure out why Jamie's brothers bugged him so much. They weren't half-bad guys but being around them irked Gavin for some weird reason.
He leaned his elbows on the porcelain table and rubbed his eyes. What galled him the most was he had to accept a free ticket on MacTaggart Family Airlines to get here. Okay, it wasn't actually an airline. It was a jet owned by Lachlan, Jamie's oldest brother, and often used by Rory. Rory, the solicitor with a heart of steel, had extended the invitation to fly here on his jet. Galling. Demeaning. Confusing, since Rory hated Gavin. This wasn't the first time Rory had flown Gavin here for a visit with Jamie, which made the situation all the more confusing.
"Here I am," Jamie said breezily as she breezed back to the table and reclaimed her seat beside Gavin. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"
He sat up, back straight, chin lifted. Time to charge through the front lines straight into the battle.
"You okay?" Jamie asked, canting her head. Long locks of her hair flowed over her shoulders, and those hazel eyes studied him with concern. "The flight has you knackered, doesn't it? We can talk later."
"No," he said a bit too abruptly. "Now. We should, uh, talk now. I'm going home tomorrow."
Two days with Jamie would never be enough. He wanted her for good, for keeps, not for the occasional weekend.
His mouth went dry, but his hands grew clammy.
"Go on, Gavin." Jamie leaned in, her cheeks dimpling yet again. "I'm listening."
The expectant look on her face made his gut clench.
She wanted a proposal. She'd never told him that, but he knew. Mostly because his sister told him. Calli had punched him in the arm and said, "Ask her to marry you already."
Gavin had come here to do that. He wanted to ask. He'd wanted to pop the question for months, but something always held him back. A week ago, he'd committed to doing it, but his enthusiasm for proposing had fizzled when he got the downsizing email. If he didn't ask her soon, she might leave him. If she found out he was unemployed, she might leave him.
His hand slipped into his pocket like it had a mind of its own, and his fingers curled around the velvet ring box. Do it, moron. You love her, so do it.
Did he have any right to do this to her? Ask her to bind her life to his when he had nothing to give in return? A cold panic gripped him, paralyzing his body and mind. Memories barreled through him, as real as the moment they'd happened. Leanne standing in the doorway, the sunshine streaming over her as she hovered on the verge of walking out the front door.
"I need to find myself," she'd said, "and I can't do that with you stifling me. I gave you everything, held your hand through it all, but I can't do this anymore."
Stifling, she'd said. Like he'd held a pillow over her face or something. He'd done nothing wrong as far as he could tell, nothing except stick to the wedding vows. Love, honor, cherish. If Leanne could walk out with no warning, no hint of anything wrong…
What if he'd been the problem after all?
Jamie wasn't Leanne. And he'd changed, hadn't he?
The question paralyzed him again, his muscles stiff and his heart pounding. The ring box felt cold in his hand. Cold and hard and… final.
His throat constricted, his mouth went even drier, like sandpaper.
With no conscious thought for what he was doing, Gavin shoved his other hand in his other pocket and pulled out the other item he'd intended to give Jamie. After the proposal. After she was blissfully happy.
He thrust the credit card at her.
"This is for you," he said, his heart pounding harder and a cold sweat beading on his brow. "It's so you can get miles to use for travel expenses."
Jamie took the credit card between her thumb and forefinger, holding it as if the thing was infected with the Ebola virus. "I don't need miles. We both fly on Rory's jet."
Duh . Gavin knew that, so why had he gotten her the credit card? He'd come up with the moronic idea the card would be a joke — but he'd planned to give it to her after he asked her to marry him.
His fingers, clamped around the ring box, began to ache from the pressure he exerted on it.
In his mind, he'd rehearsed the proposal so many times. All his practice, the speech he'd worked out during the long plane ride, disappeared like a flame doused with water. Instead of a vow to love her forever, the wrong words tumbled from his stupid, stupid lips. "I got one of those credit cards where you earn miles with every purchase. Made you an authorized user on it. This'll, uh, help pay for — expenses. When you visit me."
"You said this already." Her lips quivered. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but anger tightened her jaw. "And I reminded you I don't need a bloody credit card. Is this why you brought me here? To a romantic restaurant? This is the important thing you needed to tell me? After eighteen months together, this is all you think I'm worth."
Oh shit . What had he done? Still time to fix it if he brought out the ring box and —
Tears spilled down Jamie's cheeks even as anger flashed in her eyes. "You're an eejit, Gavin. A bod ceann and an eejit, and I'm done."
She'd called him a dickhead in Gaelic, and he deserved it.
Fix it now, you moron. "Jamie —"
The love of his life jumped out of her chair so fast it toppled over, then she hurled the credit card at him. It tumbled onto his lap. "I cannae do this anymore, Gavin. It's over."
"What?"
"I'm breaking up with you." She enunciated each word with knife-like precision. "Goodbye, forever."
Jamie MacTaggart stomped out of the cafe, down the street, and out of his life.
Gavin wanted to run after her, tried to get his ass out of the chair, but his entire body had turned to stone, rendering his feet too heavy to move. He buried his face in his hands and cursed himself far worse than Jamie could have even in the worst Gaelic imaginable.