18
Maybe It's the Whisky
T he lass was exceptionally quiet from what he knew of her. She sat staring at the fire, her perfectly arched brows knit together in worry.
“Is someone expecting ye lass?” Alex didn’t make any reference to a so-called boyfriend this time, but he realized that maybe someone would wonder where she was, especially being Christmas time.
“No. Not really.” She sighed.
Her response seemed odd to him. Given the current circumstance though, perhaps it was a good thing that nobody would be worried about her whereabouts. “What about the lassies ye were with the other day? They won’t expect to hear from ye?”
She looked back at him. “No, they’ll be busy with their families. We weren’t planning to connect again until the new year.” There was a sadness in her tone. Why was she alone at Christmas? Realizing that was a can of worms he did not want to open, he pushed the thought aside and didn't question her.
This time, when he came back from the kitchen he brought over a glass of scotch and handed it to her. Nothing like sipping on a wee dram to calm a situation.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“An actual taste of Scotland,” he said, plopping down on the chair across from her.
She eyed the golden liquid with suspicion.
“’Tis a single malt whisky from the highlands,” he added.
“Hair of the dog,” she said before shooting it back like a bar star. “Ugh,” she huffed with her face scrunched up.
Alex was stunned. “Ye dinnae shoot whisky lass, fer the love of fuckin’ Mary.”
Her eyes went wide as if she was surprised he’d sworn. “Oh. Right. Well, that didn’t taste very good.” With a skeptical look on her pretty face, she set the empty glass carefully on the table between them. “I think the Christmas spiced orange tea would be a much better representation of your country. That stuff burns.” She rubbed her chest.
Alex stared at her and then took a deep breath to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t. God, what a woman. How the hell did she end up in his home? And why was he wasting good whisky on her? He didn’t know what possessed him to forge on.
“Scotch Whisky is the very essence of Scotland, and this particular one, well, ’tis from a distillery near my home. Close to the sea.”
She seemed to look at him thoughtfully. Alex lifted his glass to his nose and breathed in its essence before taking a sip. This is definitely a taste of Scotland , he thought as he closed his eyes to savour it. “Ye can smell the salty sea air in it,” he said proudly.
She guffawed, and he snapped his piercing blue eyes open to glare at her. Why was she so infuriating? “Smell it, lass.” He handed her the glass wondering why he didn’t just give up.
Eyeing him with suspicion, she tentatively sniffed at the glass of golden liquor. “Oh God,” she moaned. “It smells like rubbing alcohol.”
The little quiver of disgust is what threw him over the edge. He looked up at the ceiling in a silent prayer for patience. Not that he was a religious man, but he needed all the help he could get. The lass was painfully obstinate. “Right. What is it you’d like to drink then?”
“I don’t know. What else do you have?” she said reluctantly.
“Beer?” he asked, getting up and heading back to the kitchen.
“Wine?” she countered.
“Beer,” he said, brokering no argument as he pulled a bottle from the fridge and twisted it open.
Alex strode back to her as she cuddled up her legs beneath her in the chair, getting comfy. Her gaze was drawn back to the fire. He handed her the open bottle of beer.
“Thanks,” she said, and he clanked his glass to her bottle before lumbering down in the chair across from her.
They both sat for a time in silence.
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful earlier,” she said thoughtfully, not looking up.
Alex glanced at her.
“I suppose I just hadn’t considered things. I don’t know what I thought really. I’ve never been snowed in anywhere. This is a new experience for me. It’s weird to be stuck somewhere because of the weather,” she said, taking another sip of her beer.
“It’s nothin’ to worry about lass. It’s part of life in the mountains.”
She nodded, and Alex sensed that she seemed to relax a bit.
“What’s your name?” she suddenly blurted out.
“Sergeant Mackenzie,” he stated pointedly, sipping his whisky. Keep it professional , he thought until he saw her exaggerated eye roll.
“I’m in your home, and you don’t want to tell me your first name, Sergeant ?”
What was it about this woman that both infuriated him and made him want to kiss that disdainful little look off her face all at the same time? Glaring at her for a moment, he replied stonily, “Alex.”
“Quinn West.” She grinned with her dimples on full display like the cat who got the cream.
Lord, help him. “Aye, I know that,” he said, reminding them both of their rocky history to date.
“Oh right.” She bit her lower lip, snagging his attention before taking a long slug of her beer.
Alex swallowed, wishing he’d stop noticing her full lips. He shifted in his chair quelling his untoward thoughts. “Are ye warmed now?” he asked in an attempt to stay on safe ground.
“Oh, so warm and toasty.” Those lush lips curved up into a smile. “The fire is heavenly.” She sighed blissfully.
“Aye,” he agreed, tearing his gaze away from her and back to the fire. He never knew someone to find such pleasure in the simplest things. When he pulled her over, she’d had that same dreamy look in her eyes about the snow. Pensive, he sipped his scotch. God, it was good. Took him back home. He wondered what the lass would think if she actually gave it a chance. Would she appreciate it like she seemed to other things? Would she get that blissful look in her eyes?
“I need to thank you.” Her softened voice pulled him from his reverie. “If you and Bear hadn’t found me…” Her voice trailed off.
There was worry etched on her pretty face. He didn’t want her to think about what could’ve happened. Protectiveness surged through him, and he had to remind himself that the feeling that roared through him was likely because he was a police officer. That, and his parents raised him to be a good human. As much as he might be swearing off women, he certainly still had a heart. He hated the thought of what could’ve been, but he also hated that she felt the heavy weight of it too. The lass had been through a lot tonight, and he could see it troubled her.
Needing her to know she was safe with him, he reached over and put a reassuring hand on hers. “It’s okay, Quinn. You’re here now, safe and sound.”
His hand was warm and comforting on hers. She knew what he said was true. She was safe now, safe with him. He was a cop, after all. That was their duty, to serve and protect. At least she didn’t have to worry that she’d been rescued by some opportunistic axe murderer or sexual predator. Nope, even if he was a rapist, she’d be safe because he’d already made it crystal clear she was the last woman he’d ever want to sleep with. With that thought, she slid her hand out from under his and changed the subject.
“I love your cabin,” she said, sweeping her eyes around the open space. Despite being an open layout, it was cozy with the log walls and rug-covered slate floors. The river rock fireplace was floor-to-ceiling, making it a ruggedly beautiful focal point.
“Aye, ’tis pleasant, I suppose,” he said as if it never occurred to him before how nice it was.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked curiously.
“Two years.”
“It must be heavenly to be able to escape the world to this wonderful cozy cabin.” She sighed contentedly at the very idea. What a great place this would be to just sit and write. Dang. She wished she had her laptop with her.
“So what brought you here? To Canada, I mean.” Quinn found her curiosity budding. He’d tentatively answered her questions which she took as a good sign. Hopefully, they could actually have a proper conversation for a change.
“That’s a bit of a long story, lass.” Alex deflected, standing up to take his empty glass to the kitchen.
Quinn recognized his stonewalling immediately and decided there was no point in pushing. She yawned, feeling a deep weariness in her bones.
“I guess we should call it a night then,” she said, coming up behind him with her empty beer bottle.
He took it from her and put it under the sink in a bin. When he stood back up, she moved in closer to him and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug well aware he’d hate it, but she didn’t care. Quinn needed to hug the man who’d saved her life.
Pressing her face against his chest, she settled her arms around him even though he stood stock-still, his arms hanging awkwardly like he didn’t know where to put them. It didn’t deter her though. Instead, she savoured his solid warmth. God and his scent. She suspected she could hyperventilate, trying to breathe in all his yumminess. Never had someone smelled this good. It was next level. Realizing she was bordering on sniffing him like an airport drug detector dog, she lifted her face to look at him.
“I just wanted to thank you.” Her breath caught under his stormy gaze. She cleared her throat and forged on, “I— You— Well, if you hadn’t been there…” She bit her lip, feeling her eyes sting. “Thank you.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I am glad we found ye,” he said gruffly. He lifted his hand to her face, but he seemed to think better of it, dropping it away.
It sobered Quinn. He didn’t want to touch her, or if he did, he schooled himself not to. Either way, it sucked. He likely came to people’s rescue often given his job. This wasn’t a big deal for him like it was for her. He was a cop, duty-bound. Hastily, she released her arms from around him and turned to walk back into the living room.
“Guess you’re used to being all hero-like,” she teased, trying to quell the small stab of disappointment.
“No’ bloody likely,” he grunted and turned back to the sink to wash his glass.
Quinn watched him curiously. For a guy who came across as cocky and overly confident, it surprised her he didn’t relish the hero reference. Could it be that Mean Hot Cop was humble? She noted he’d gotten uncomfortable under her praise and with her hugging him. What was under all his gruff facade? She’d caught glimpses. Moments of kindness and good humour. Jeepers and that smile. What would he be like if he let down that guard that he kept so high? Then she bit her lip and wondered what was it that made him keep a guard up in the first place.
“I’m sure ye must be exhausted. Ye can sleep in the bedroom, and I’ll sleep on the settee.” Not that he wanted her sleeping in his bed, but his mam had taught him manners. As a guest in his home, wanted or not, it wouldn’t be right to make her sleep on the settee. Christ, but the very thought of her lying in his bed made him want to do bad things. Very bad things. Wrapping her arms around him, giving him a wee bosie, shouldn't have had him mentally arguing with his dick to calm down. One of the few occasions he’d have preferred to be wearing his bulletproof vest. Instead, he was tortured with the feel of her large breasts pressed hard against him. Their unmistakable soft fullness relentlessly taunting him.
“Settee?” She grinned, raising her brow playfully pulling him from his spiralling thoughts. She was teasing him, Alex realized belatedly.
“Aye, the settee, or how do ye Canadians say it, the couch.” He emphasized the vowel sound.
She giggled, and he felt the corners of his lips twitch.
“It’s fine. I’m not going to push you out of your bed. I can sleep here.” She flopped down full out on his settee to make her point. And holy fuck, she looked incredibly inviting as she lay there.
Alex crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortable, he did not want to be thinking about that, especially not with this particular lass. She was trouble. A feisty, chatterbox with big innocent eyes and a sinfully tempting mouth, who didn’t know danger even when it towered at six foot four in front of her.
“Besides, I suspect you wouldn’t fit very well on here,” she added oblivious to his randy thoughts. She stretched right out to demonstrate the length of the settee.
Alex’s mouth went dry as eyes ran the length of her. Oh, he could fit on. Tamping down the arousal that threatened his senses and reminding himself that he needed to stay immune to the bloody lass, he agreed.
“Fine.” He wasn’t about to argue. The sooner he could get to his room and put some distance between them, the better.
“Right then, I’ll bring ye another blanket and a pillow,” he said practically stomping down the hall.
Alex wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. Quinn West was undoubtedly an attractive woman, but she’d half driven him crazy since he’d met her. He’d been around plenty of appealing, willing women, who were far less frustrating, and he’d had no problem keeping any kind of arousal at bay. So why on earth was he fighting base urges left, right, and centre with Quinn West?
Perhaps it had been a bit too long since he’d last been with a lass. Not that he was some kind of animal, he could live without sex. He’d sworn off women when he’d left Scotland. It wouldn’t be forever, but at this point in his life, he had no desire to complicate his world. And if he was going to complicate everything, it certainly wouldn’t be with the headstrong stubborn woman lying on his settee.