Scotch & Dreams (Scotch #2)
1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Oh Fuck
She had zero recollection of how she got here, how long she’d been here, or even where she was. Deep blue eyes were intense on hers. Concerned. Intimate. Caring. They weren’t familiar eyes, but in her haze of confusion, those eyes brought her an unexpected yet solid sense of comfort.
“How are ye feelin’?” The man spoke slowly, gently. His burr was deep, rich, and as warm as honey on her fractured thoughts.
“I-I don’t know. My head hurts,” she said in a voice that didn’t feel like her own as she touched her swelling forehead. She felt strange. Her thinking was muddled. It was odd. She was certain she didn’t know the man who was kneeling inches from her, but he felt safe somehow. Not lock-your-doors safe, but fall-into-my-arms-and-I-will-catch-you safe.
Panic was lurking around the outer edges of her mind, ready to choke her, but his touch, his voice, and his presence were helping to pull her from its sticky grip. Strong hands gently but firmly held her shoulders. Deep blue eyes anchored onto hers and wouldn’t let her go. Later, she would recall the strange intimacy of it, but at the moment, everything felt off, unfamiliar, fleeting.
“What’s yer name, lass?” His voice was a salve on her battered mind.
“Violet Munro.” The name tumbled out without any preamble. When she tried to retrieve thoughts, they seemed to flit around like uncatchable fireflies. She was certain of her name, but how or why she was certain of it felt like a complete mystery at this moment. It was just there. Her name was clear and rose to the surface all by itself. A moment’s relief seeped into her.
“Verra good.” He smiled at her with the warmth of an embrace.
She found him mesmerizing. This stranger. Finding an escape from her jumbled thoughts, she let herself fixate on the details of his features. He was a magnet for her mind, visceral, Technicolor in her haze of grey confusion.
Studying him brought a desperate focus to the heap of disarray in her brain. His white button-down shirt was crisp with dark pinstripes, and there was a sharpness to his navy blazer. The way the golden skin of his neck looked in contrast to the white of his shirt. His straight nose ended in a slight flare to his nostrils. Blue eyes so deep they tugged at her very soul. And his smile with its slight crookedness, perfectly imperfect. She felt a sudden wild urge to press her lips to his to see what it would feel like to be kissed by such a contradictory mouth.
Her senses felt heightened in some ways, so aware yet so out of sorts. Bewildered as she felt, one thing was crystal clear: this man was an angel in the ashes. The kind of man every woman’s fairy tale heart yearns for. The strong hero who could love her to the furthest reaches of her soul. He was warmth, comfort, and sexiness. Violet concluded, as she stared into his otherworldly eyes, that she had to be dreaming. Her world was as solid as a puff of smoke but for him.
“Do ye ken where ye are, Violet?”
She made the mistake of breaking eye contact to view her surroundings. A beach, the sea’s waves washing gently onto the shore. The air was mild. Long tufts of grass grew at the back side of the sand. She could see a pier all lit up with fairground lights in the distance and a smaller wooden pier directly in front of them. The sun was setting, casting a pinky-purple hue.
Violet looked down beside her and noticed that she was sitting on the long grass. She ran her fingers through the dry blades. Hot tears pricked her eyes. I ’ m on a beach , she thought to herself. But I don't have the slightest idea how I got here. Oh fuck.
The dream man gently wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek. She leaned her face into the palm of his hand. She desperately sought the comfort he so freely gave.
“I-I don’t know where I am.” She swallowed, trying to hold back the fear that threatened to drown her. “I don’t recognize any of it.” She looked at his handsome features, searching for something, but she didn’t know what. She was lost. “How did I get here?” Quiet tears spilled down her face as she grappled with the understanding that she couldn’t remember anything. She shivered, maybe from cold. Maybe from shock? It didn’t matter.
“It’s going to be okay, lass,” he murmured as he slipped off his blazer and wrapped it around her shoulders.
His strong, comforting arms wrapped around her, and she melted against him, still unable to quell the shivering that racked her body.