Chapter 9
9
H e made me breakfast.
Gennie couldn’t for the life of her remember the last time anyone had cooked for her. Certainly not Daniel, with his protein shakes. And her mum? Cooking had usually meant toast, salvaged veggies from the supermarket bins, popping open a can, nuking a frozen dinner, or – in better months – ordering takeaway. This simple act of caring tugged at something deep inside her. It wrapped around her like a cosy blanket, but one that scratched at her skin.
Was this what home was supposed to feel like?
She wasn’t used to this. It made her want to flee and burrow closer at the same time.
She’d woken up this morning not knowing where she was. Next to a purring black cat with green eyes. Then she’d remembered.
The fire. The car. Nathan.
How he’d taken her in, made her bed.
When she’d found her way into the kitchen a little later, he’d already been there, frying goddamn bacon and eggs.
And wow, who’d have guessed that surly Scot could cook like a Michelin-starred chef?
Now he was putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher, all brooding. His white t-shirt stretched across his shoulders and heather-grey joggers low on his hips revealed a glimpse of skin.
At this point, it was ridiculous to pretend there wasn’t an insane attraction between them, despite their age difference. He tried to play it cool, but she caught every one of those seething glances he snatched when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The way his eyes roamed over her, she could feel it on her skin.
And, well, last night’s hard-on had been a dead giveaway, too. Validating and flattering. But also…kind of terrifyingly exhilarating, like taunting a caged grizzly bear from outside the bars.
She sat back and fixed him with a grin. ‘I have two days off. Are you going to show me around or what?’
Nathan stopped his movements. ‘Come again?’
‘Show me your place. I don’t know, the library, the distillery, the grounds.’
‘I don’t have time to play the tourist guide.’
His grouchy reply didn’t fool her. The strong, silent ones who wore their grumpiness like armour were soft as jelly on the inside. At least in her experience, limited as it was. But even she knew a rare gem when she saw one, and this guy? Definitely a different calibre from anyone she’d ever met.
She shrugged the thought off. ‘Yeah, but I’m not a tourist now, am I? Come on, Nathan. It’ll be fun.’
He turned, still holding the tea towel. ‘What on earth makes you think you’ll have fun with me?’
‘Just a hunch.’ She winked at him. ‘Please? I’m curious. And you know first-hand how easily I get lost. You don’t want me to veer off the road and end up in a ditch.’
He tensed at the memory of their first encounter. ‘You don’t need my help, Gennie.’
‘True. I don’t need it.’ She paused and licked butter off her lips as she held his gaze. ‘But I want it.’
Part of her knew she should probably tone it down. He was older and clearly trying to keep it in his pants. But the simmering tension, the idea that she affected him as much as he affected her? A one-way ticket to trouble-town. Oddly empowering to be desired by a man with jagged edges, a man who’d lived a life. Who was in charge. So good at looking after others.
And also insanely hot. A dirty little mind fuck.
She was revelling in the game of pushing him to his limits. And really, what choice did she have but to keep poking that sexy bear, praying she didn’t get mauled, but craving the rush all the same? It was what she did. Danger was her happy place. It was never the jump that gave her the biggest thrill – it was the heart-stopping second just before.
Like now.
A muscle under his eye twitched. Then, with a muttered curse, he tossed the tea towel aside. ‘Fine. But we’re taking my car. And I’m driving.’
‘Even though I’m a better driver than you? I can do it on two wheels, after all. Can you?’
He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his broad chest. ’Don’t get cocky, Lara Croft.’
Gennie let out a triumphant laugh. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Let me take a quick shower. See you in fifteen?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Nope.’
There, another hint of a smile. He was a stunner when he dropped his shields and let the sunshine in. Boyish, sweet, and craggy – practically begging her to drag him out of his cage to play.
Their boots crunched on the gravel as Nathan led Gennie into the distillery. He’d been second-guessing his decision to show her around ever since she’d stepped into the hall, all bright-eyed and beaming like a ray of sunshine.
Because fuck, she looked downright edible in that fitted black leather jacket that clung to her in all the right places. The big red scarf around her neck made her cheeks glow. And would it have been easier for him if she hadn’t opted for those skinny jeans? Aye.
But who was he to tell a woman what to wear? If the sight of those curves poured into tight denim made focusing a Herculean task… Well, that was his problem to wrestle with, not hers.
Fuck his life.
After breakfast, while Gennie had been getting ready upstairs, Nathan had checked in with Abby via video call. His little munchkin was buzzing about a trip to the Beatrix Potter Gardens in Birnam with her friends and their parents today. She’d be back on Sunday at eleven.
Twenty-four hours alone with Gennie.
Just one day. He could handle that. He had to.
With a sigh, he opened the door. ‘Come in. But don’t touch anything.’
She grinned. ‘Aye, aye, Sir.’
Her calling him sir hit him like a shot of gin – hot, tingling, and straight to the gut.
Gennie explored the long shelves lined with bottles and jars. Her fingers trailed over the labels. ‘You know, I’m more of a tequila girl myself.’ She shot him a grin over her shoulder.
‘Tequila?’ He snorted. ‘That stuff’s only for getting pished and making bad decisions.’
‘Yeah, because that never happens with gin.’
She could hold her own and didn’t take shite from anyone. He liked that about her. ‘I guess the dose makes the poison.’
‘As with everything in life.’
They both fell silent. The air was thick with the heady aroma of the distillery and awkwardness. He resorted to explaining the process. Solid ground. She was genuinely interested, listened, asked questions. And he enjoyed sharing his passion. Whether he liked it or not, it broke a chunk out of his crust.
‘So, why gin, MacMillan?’ She cocked her head to the side.
His gaze drifted to the gleaming still in the centre of the room. ‘Wanted to create something from the land. Something to tell a story. Gin made sense. All the botanicals we need are right here.’ He didn’t mention the money, the ever-tightening noose of bills and responsibilities. ‘Besides, there are worse ways to make a living. Like throwing yourself off buildings or driving cars on two wheels.’
Gennie’s laughter filled the space between them, and a warm glow spread in his chest, like someone had lit a match behind his ribs. He was getting used to her company.
Nathan cleared his throat and jerked his chin towards the door. ‘Come, there’s something else I want to show you.’
He strode out into the mild autumn air. He’d planned on walking her up to the viewpoint on the hill. It was magical at this time of year. But an hour of trudging through the forest suddenly seemed like a bad idea. The less time they spent alone together, the better. For both of them. ‘We’ll take my car.’ He fished his keys from his pocket. ‘Faster that way.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Christ, she had to stop this. He was defenceless against the images that flooded his mind. Images of a completely different situation in which she would call him sir…and fucking mean it.
Nathan walked over to his mud-splattered Land Rover, yanking open the passenger door. Gennie hopped in and flashed him a smile.
Twenty-three and a half hours to go.
The view to his right was breathtaking. Gennie stood on the edge of the hill. Her eyes caught the autumn sun, fierce and amber. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a sunbeam. Bronze skin lit up with dark freckles. And those cheeks, with that shade of blush, made it seem as if she carried a piece of summer with her.
He tried to tear his eyes away but couldn’t. Gennie Rivers wasn’t a pretty girl. She was a beautiful, vibrant woman, and it would be a waste to look anywhere else.
‘Nathan, this is incredible.’ She turned those golden-brown eyes on him, and his knees almost gave out right then and there.
‘Aye, it is.’
She was right. This was why he’d brought her here. Before them, the surrounding Perthshire hills wore autumn: red, orange, gold, and the rich green of tall pines stretching into the distance. Dense and undisturbed. Mossy boulders littered along the slope. The leaden loch below stretched wide under a blue sky dotted with white clouds. A breeze ruffled the water into choppy ripples that caught and reflected glittering light.
Not half as beautiful as Gennie, though.
‘I get why you like it here.’ She looked out at the sprawling fall forest again. ‘It’s peaceful.’
He didn’t answer. The only sounds were the soft whispering of leaves and the distant calls of jays. With her, the silence began to feel comfortable. While she marvelled at the landscape, he was busy taking her in. Something stirred in him when he saw how moved she was by the very beauty that moved him, too.
She nodded, her eyes bright with wonder as she gazed out at the rolling hills and ancient trees. ‘Are you from here?’
‘Naw, I’m from East Lothian, south of Edinburgh. My parents still live down there.’
‘Why did you move here?’ she asked.
‘We used to come here on holiday; my mum’s family were from the area. I used to love roaming around in the woods like a little wildling, all by myself.’
She pulled a slow smile.
‘And then…’ He paused, his eyes drifted to the horizon. He was leaving out a big part. ‘I was looking for solitude, peace, quiet. A bit of home. Came here and found out Glenwood Lodge was for sale. Bought it for myself and Sophie, our family. Restored it myself.’
‘Is she Abby’s mom?’
He swallowed and his throat bobbed with the effort. ‘Aye, she is.’
Gennie’s face softened. ‘What happened?’
For some reason, at that moment, he wanted to share it with her. Maybe it was the way her gaze held his, unflinching and understanding. Or the way she seemed to really see him, not just the hardened shell he projected to the world. Maybe he needed to get it off his chest. The only adults he spoke to these days were his parents, his sister Jo, and his childhood friend David once in a blue moon.
Either way, he started talking.
‘I travelled the world in my twenties. Met Sophie in a hostel in Rio. She was from Stockholm, backpacking in South America with her friends. I fell for her the second she belted out a Swedish drinking song. I think it was called “Helan G?r”.’ A smile played on his lips at the memory. ‘We travelled together for a while, settled in New York, got married. She started working on Wall Street, I started missing Scotland.’
Gennie watched him, her eyes warm with sympathy – not pity.
Sweet relief.
‘I’ve always wanted kids, not Sophie. Eventually, I wore her down. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the way it was. We moved here and got pregnant. But our marriage didn’t survive. Sophie got an offer as a CFO in Dubai. We agreed that Scotland is the better place for our daughter to grow up. Sophie’s happier there, and I’m happy here with Abby. We’re making it work as best we can. Sometimes I wonder if it’s enough.’
Spilling your guts to a much younger woman. A stranger. Fucking weirdo.
Relief, shame, grief, and acceptance washed over him. Like lancing a festering wound, painful but cathartic.
Then he noticed that Gennie had taken his hand in hers, her fingers warm against his.
‘I’m sorry, Nathan. That must have been hard.’
He nodded, all too aware of her gentle touch. He fought the urge to pull his hand away, to create some distance between them. ‘Aye, but I wouldn’t change having Abby for the world.’
‘She’s a pretty special kid.’ Gennie smiled, a faraway look in her eyes.
His heart melted at the thought of the fabulous little human he and Sophie brought into the world, in spite of everything. ‘You have no idea.’
‘You’re doing a great job by the looks of it.’ Gennie still held his hand. ‘My mother was a single parent, too. Got pregnant at eighteen. I never met my father. Don’t even know the dude’s name. And…I would have given anything to have a responsible, reliable adult like you in my life.’
His heart squeezed at the pain that shadowed her face, a glimpse of the scars beneath her vibrant exterior.
‘Don’t get me wrong. My mum is great. She’s fun and loving and always up for an adventure. She’s a total hippie. But she was never stable or motherly. She was more…a friend. The kind of friend who always got into trouble.’ Gennie huffed out a laugh, but there was no humour in it. ‘So I had to grow up fast, rely on myself.’
‘I’m sorry, too. That sounds…worrying.’ He squeezed her small hand, a silent offer of comfort.
‘Well, it was, and it wasn’t. But…I…’ Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled with closed eyes. ‘I never had a swing.’
He blinked. ‘A swing?’
‘Yeah, I know it’s silly. But when I was a kid, I always wanted a swing. So badly. To me, it was the symbol of a happy, normal home. The house with a garden and a fence and a swing. Where kids were safe and loved. Where they lived at the same address until they moved out.’ Her shoulder lurched. ‘Your stereotypical family kitsch.’
This strong, independent woman, who jumped on and off horses and shite, suddenly looked small and vulnerable. Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. Protecting, shielding. One arm around that tiny waist, the other spread across her back. She melted into his chest without hesitation and tilted her head to nestle into the crook of his neck. Almost as if she’d been waiting for it. The supple leather of her jacket creaked as she settled against his body, the faint scent of smoke still lingered on the collar.
She felt so good in his arms that it knocked him right in the centre. He took a sneaky whiff of her hair. The scent made him dizzy. Her shampoo was…coconut and vanilla, perhaps. Sweet, but not floral. Mixed with her own scent, powdery and warm. Made him desperate to bury his face against the tender skin below her ear and inhale her in greedy lungfuls.
Only twenty-two hours to go. You can hold it together.
‘Nathan?’ She murmured against his down jacket.
‘Aye?’
‘I’m starving.’
He smiled. ‘You have an appetite. I can whip something up.’
She pulled away from his embrace and her eyes sparkled. ‘No, I want to treat you. To thank you for taking me in, making me breakfast, and showing me around. Let’s go into town and get a burger.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Burger? Homesick already, American girl?’
‘Watch it, Scotsman.’ She poked him in the chest with a finger. ‘If I wanted haggis, I’d ask for haggis. But right now, I want a juicy, artery-clogging, all-American cheeseburger. Served with a side of Scottish broodiness.’
‘Awright, burgers it is. I know a decent place. But don’t expect too much of Blairdrochaid. It’s not L.A.’
He wasn’t too comfortable spending time in town. The people in Blairdrochaid knew who he was. Most of them didn’t care, or at least pretended not to. Others, however… He felt their eyes on his back, heard their whispers. And with the film crew in town, with the actors… That could attract paparazzi scum.
But it had been eighteen years ago. He wasn’t exactly high on anyone’s celebrity hunting scale.
And if she wanted a burger, a burger was what he’d get her.
Nathan thanked the universe that he’d never made it big in the States. Otherwise, Gennie would look at him like everyone else. With disdain, ridicule, pity, or worse: undeserved admiration. He winced at the thought.