15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Not a Date, Date
This was the absolute farthest thing from her mind when she envisioned following her dreams in Scotland, but she was certainly enjoying the turn of events. This was, hands down, the best non-date, date, she'd ever had. She wondered when was the last time she'd had such deep and meaningful conversation with anyone. She and Sierra were best friends and always could be real, but she'd only just met Lachlan. And yet, he was so open with her.
There was something about him that made her feel so at ease. He possessed a calmness and strength. He was a good guy. Even if he did punch his brother , she thought sardonically. In truth, she found it kind of romantic, like he was defending her honour. She'd known from the moment his eyes held hers when she'd felt so utterly lost that there was a connection, but as the hours of the evening slipped away like minutes, she knew that her being here with him was more than just a kind man doing her a favour.
Violet became aware of Lachlan's gaze on her. He studied her as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.
“What?” she asked speculatively under his sudden scrutiny.
“I ken ye said ye were a fashion stylist, but I wondered if ye were also some kind of therapist.” He raised a questioning brow.
“Like a massage therapist?” she quipped back.
“Och, are ye?” he asked, beginning to rub his neck as if it were tight, and he hoped she might help him out.
She chuckled.“Nope, sorry to disappoint you. I'm not a massage therapist.” Although she wouldn't mind giving it a go.
“Too bad.” He flashed her his crooked grin, and Violet felt heat tingle at the juncture between her legs. Wholly affected by that grin of his, she pondered how a lopsided smirk could make him look as if he was the gatekeeper of some kind of sexy secret.
“I dinnae recall the last time I was able to speak so freely, lass. I feel like you could be a psychologist or counsellor. You’re verra easy to talk to.”
She eyed him with a gentle smile tugging her lips as she felt her cheeks flush under his praise. “Maybe you just needed to talk.” She shrugged.
“I suspect ye hear yer fair share of stories styling people. Like a bartender, ye could be a shrink.”
She laughed at the truth of it. The few clients she’d had definitely seemed to take their time together as an opportunity to unload all kinds of things. “I have heard a few tales.”
“I huv no doubt.” Lachlan leaned forward, picked up the decanter, and poured another round in each of their glasses. Sitting back again, he ran a hand down the front of his white dress shirt as if to smooth it, then he gave her a sly sideways glance.
“What is yer expert opinion? How am I doing? Do ye think I could use a style makeover?” He held his chin up in profile as if allowing her to assess him.
Violet smiled. “I don’t think you’re doing too badly, Mr. GQ.”
“Och, lassie, the flattery is going to make my head big.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
“It’s true. You are very stylish,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I might have a wee shopping problem.” He bit his lip.
Violet grinned. “Me too. I’m surprised, though. Not to stereotype, but most men hate shopping.” From what she’d seen of him, the man was a very snappy dresser. From his rolled-sleeved dress shirt and his Patek Philippe watch she’d spied, down to his perfectly tailored trousers and argyle socks, the man was impeccably dressed.
“A good friend of mine owns a luxury men’s shop in Glasgow. Obviously, I huv to support him.” He threw her an angelic little smirk.
She laughed out loud.
“Ach, fine.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I cannae help myself.”
She chuckled. “Me neither. I think you may be my spirit animal.”
He laughed, and the low rumble of it tickled her senses. The man was seriously appealing. Violet leaned back against the arm of the couch, and Lachlan sat back against the other arm. One long, strong leg was bent on the couch with his arms casually resting on it. The other was stretched out with his socked heel on the cow hide area rug.
“And what about you? What do you do for a living, Mr. GQ?” she quipped, taking a sip of her scotch, thoroughly enjoying the evening with him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he modelled—from his physique to his features, the man was stupidly handsome. It would explain the sporty car and gorgeous house. It was quite plausible that his modelling career made him filthy rich. She almost laughed at the thought.
“I told ye what I did.” He looked at her from under a quirked brow.
“What? No, you didn’t. Oh my God, did I forget?” Her eyes grew wide, and her body tensed.
“I make whisky,” he said and nodded toward her glass.
“You make whisky?” she repeated, looking down at her glass, not really understanding what he meant.
“Aye, yer drinking it. Therapy in a glass.”
“You make this for a living?” She held up the glass, still not quite certain.
“Aye, for a living,” he confirmed, his lips tipped at the corners in mild amusement. “Cailleach Distillery.”
“Oh.” Violet was still putting together the pieces in her mind. “You work at Cay-lee-yak” —she scrunched her eyes at her butchered pronunciation—“distillery? As in, you actually physically make the whisky?”
“Ach, lass.” He chuckled heartily. “I own the distillery, and aye, I do huv a part in the making of it.”
“Oh, right.” She was trying to absorb this new piece of information. He owned a distillery?
Apparently noting her confusion, he leaned back. “What did ye think I meant earlier when I said I make whisky?”
“Ohh,” she said exaggeratedly, recalling his comment, and then she giggled. “I don’t know why, but when you said you made the scotch, I pictured you like one of those old guys who make terrible wine in their kitchen, straining barley in old lady pantyhose. Like a hobby or something.”
He raised his brows. "I cannae say we huv ever used old lady pantyhose in our process."
She laughed despite herself. "I mean, like I thought you made it with a kit or something."
He nodded toward her glass. “Please tell me that doesnae taste like it’s from a kit?”
Violet looked at the contents remaining in her glass and took the final sip, making sure to let it linger over her tongue before she swallowed. “Nope, definitely not boxed scotch.”
“Ye dinnae say.” His crooked grin teased her.
“Modest, aren’t we?” she mocked.
“From time to time,” he jabbed back.
Violet laughed at Lachlan’s dry humour. The perfect host, he picked up the decanter to refill her glass.
“I think I better slow down,” Violet said, feeling the warming effects of the golden liquid.
“Just a drop more,” he hedged.
Maybe against her better judgment, but how could she resist? “Okay, just a drop.”
He smiled as he poured a splash more in each of their glasses.
She took a sip, still marvelling at how good it was and the fact that the man across from her owned the frickin’ distillery. Feeling her head swim a bit, she threw him a sly glance. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She immediately regretted asking when he looked aghast.
“No, no, of course no'. I’m sorry. Ye dinnae huv to drink it.” He leaned forward to take her glass, but she quickly pulled it close to her chest as if protecting its precious contents from him.
“Don’t you try to steal it from me. It’s mine!”
Lachlan’s deep chuckle danced down her spine. “Do we huv a problem here, V?” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave.
“Only if you try to take my drink away,” she challenged as she eyed him over the rim of her glass, taking a sip as if demonstrating her ownership over it. She liked that he'd called her V.
Her heart beat a little faster, and she shifted where she sat across from Lachlan as their eyes locked on each other with an electric charge so palpable between them that she swore she could see the sparks fly. The sound of a ringtone shattered the moment. Lachlan’s phone lit up on the coffee table, and Violet seemed to be holding her breath as she waited to see what he’d do.
His blue eyes swiped back to hers. “I should take this,” he said as he stood taking the phone with him out of the room.
Violet slumped back against the couch as her heartbeat returned to a reasonable pace. Sheesh, she’d known this morning when Lachlan came to the hospital that there was some attraction there. Heck, she’d even known it last night in her memory-void mind!
Slow down, Violet , she thought to herself. She couldn’t deny she was very attracted to Lachlan, but she was in his home because she had a concussion. And speaking of which, she looked at the empty glass in her hand and put it on the table. She’d probably had at least three if not four drinks tonight, and although Lachlan didn’t over-pour, she’d be wise to cool it. That doctor from the hospital probably wouldn’t be too thrilled with her getting buzzed with her head injury.
It did feel better, though. Her headache had subsided. Aside from being a bit tired, she felt pretty good. Maybe the company had something to do with it. Violet smiled to herself. She’d never imagined meeting someone like Lachlan. God, he was literally like a knight in shining armour coming to her rescue. And he was funny. And hot. She bit her lip.
Who knew? Maybe after doing this favour tonight, he’d want to take her on a date or something. Not that she was in Scotland to date. That wasn’t her intention, but she never expected to meet her dream man. She laughed out loud at herself. She was being silly. She shouldn’t even be thinking about dating when she needed to focus on getting a business up and running. It was not like she had unlimited funds. She should keep her focus…but if Lachlan asked her out, she couldn't say no.
Mindlessly running her fingers over the burnished brass studs on the back of the sofa, she let her mind wander. Lachlan could maybe show her around the area. That wouldn’t hurt. And he already ran a business. She was completely green to business ownership here in Scotland, so perhaps, he’d let her pick his brain. Violet was hyper-aware that she’d likely find any excuse to be in the man’s company again.
Maybe it was the trauma of last night, but she had this new lease on life, live-for-the-moment feeling enveloping her. And Lachlan was very much the moment . It was like they were meant to cross paths. He was making her feel crazy things she had no business feeling for somebody she barely knew. God, it felt like she did know him, though. They just clicked so effortlessly. Mmm, and all she could think about was what it would be like for his sexy crooked smiling lips to kiss hers. The very thought sent butterflies careening through her belly.