Chapter 24
Come Clean
Raven
Rachel and I have the next couple of days mapped out and it’s officially a boy-free zone. No distractions. No detours. It's just the reset I need to get my head straight again.
We’re not about to act like stage-ten clingers. Ew.
Every steamy, deliciously sinful thought of Kane and his sculpted body, those lips, that perfectly styled hair, all of it.
It's going to be shoved into a mental lockbox. For good measure, I toss in the very vivid memory I have of his arms. Okay, and his stupidly perfect smirk. And the way he says my name like it’s something worth holding onto.
Once I'm sure I've crammed in every last thing worth drooling over, I slam the box shut, padlock it, and toss it into the deepest, darkest recess of my mind.
Rachel storms into my room, waving her phone like she just won the lottery.
“Good thing you’re ready, because the Uber will be here in four minutes. Thank God you agreed, because if you hadn’t…” She pauses dramatically, putting her hands on her hips. “This would’ve gone a totally different direction.”
By the time we step into The Realm, the energy slams into me like a shot straight to the veins. The place is crawling with people, music bleeding into chatter until it's just one big, effortless buzz.
It’s way busier than last time.
A hostess leads us toward the back, sliding us into a booth tucked near the kitchen. Somehow, it's quieter here. Which is actually nice.
I pick up the menu and before I even get a chance to look at it, a woman bounces up to our table. Her smile is so warm and bubbly that I bet she's not faking it. Some people just really like what they do, apparently.
“Hey ladies! What can I start you off with to drink tonight?”
“We’ll just start with water for now, thank you!” I reply with a polite smile.
She spins on her heel and I take a second to soak it all in.
The energy. The laughter. The unmistakable vibe of this place.
Scotland has this way of getting under your skin, and making you feel like you belong to it.
There’s something here that just feels right, like a piece of me fits here in a way I’ve never quite felt anywhere else.
The waitress comes over like she’s about to deliver the best news ever.
“You ladies picked the perfect night! The owner is here, and he’s everyone’s favorite chef. He's making tonight’s special, or have you already decided?”
Rachel perks up, “Oh, that sounds exciting.”
The waitress nods. “Aye! It’s a treat for everyone when he’s in.”
Rachel doesn’t hesitate. She snaps her menu shut and hands it back with a grin. “Two specials, please!”
The waitress claps her hands together, practically glowing. “Oh perfect! You’re going to love it!” She takes the menus before disappearing toward the kitchen.
Rachel watches her go, shaking her head with a small smile. “I swear, this place is amazing. We really should think about moving out here. I’m down if you are. You know that right?”
I pause mid-sip, staring at her. “Wait, you’re serious? You want to move here?”
She leans across the table and I can tell this is going to be good. “Think about it. We’d have all the time in the world to look for your family. Plus, Scotland just… fits, you know? Maybe stay for a year, then reevaluate?”
Her words sink in, and I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off with a careless wave.
“You’d thrive here. You don’t need the money, so you could do whatever you wanted. And I’d find my groove, for sure. Just imagine the cozy pubs, friendly people, we'd have a few Highland cows in our backyard.” She pauses dramatically. “Oh, and hot Highlanders…”
I roll my eyes, but the idea decides to set up camp in my brain, complete with neon signs.
“Just think about it,” she adds, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Okay.” I fight back a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”
She beams, and just like that, switches gears so fast I get mental whiplash.
“Do we need to hit the dress shop tomorrow and get that sorted? I mean, I'm sure they’ll fit, but can you imagine waiting until the last second and needing something fixed? Total disaster.”
“Yeah,” I reply, pulling out my phone, trying to push the bomb she just dropped in my lap aside. “We’ll head over there as soon as we eat breakfast.”
I pull out my phone to check the appointment time. I actually connected with this designer through social media. His designs are insane, and I had to have one. They’re stunning. One of the best perks of my job is meeting such talented people, and I can’t wait to see the finished product.
A cold prickle runs down my spine, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. The feeling of being watched tightens with each passing second.
I force myself to act casual, then slowly turn to scan the room. As usual, no one’s looking my way. The feeling vanishes as fast as it came, leaving me uneasy. I don't get it.
Our waitress reappears, balancing our plates. We didn't ask what the special was, but looking at my plate now, my stomach flips. Haggis.
Rachel unfolds her napkin like she’s about to start a five-star dining experience. “I didn’t try yours last time,” she says, eyeing my plate. “But if you liked it, this one should be fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Enjoy, ladies!” The waitress chirps, giving a playful bow before bouncing back toward the kitchen.
Here goes nothing. I scoop up a small bite, mentally preparing myself. The second it hits my tongue, my eyes widen. Holy shit. This is better than last time.
“Oh my God,” I mumble, covering my mouth, because manners. “This is amazing.”
Rachel takes her first bite, but instead of responding, she freezes mid-chew, and starts choking.
“OH. MY. GOD!”
I frown, confused. “I mean, it’s good, but not that good.”
She’s somewhere between awe and panic, and I follow her line of sight, turning just in time to see Cam walking across the dining area in a crisp white chef’s coat.
Holy fuck.
There’s something about a man in a uniform that just does it. And Cam? Cam looks good. I almost drop my fork, I'm staring so hard. I thank every star in the sky that I swallowed my bite first because Rachel, however, is not so lucky. She’s still trying to compose herself.
Cam’s eyes land on us, taking in the absolute mess that is Rachel choking on her food, and me, with my fork frozen in the air like an idiot. He looks surprised, but only for a second before his mouth curves into a smug, knowing grin.
“Ladies!” His voice is warm. “What are ye doin’ here?”
Rachel's still recovering from nearly choking to death, and slaps a hand on the table. “WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE? Are you—THIS IS YOUR RESTAURANT?”
Her wide eyes dart between Cam and the plate, like he just admitted to running a black-market empire instead of a kitchen.
He just laughs. “Aye, it’s mine.”
Rachel points at her plate, scandalized. “DID YOU MAKE THIS?!”
“I have so many questions.” I gesture wildly at the restaurant. “Sit down! Wait, can you? Are you busy?”
Rachel pats the seat beside her, then grabs his arm, tugging him down. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”
He's clearly enjoying every second of this.
“Welcome to my place,” he shrugs. “I was gonna tell ye, but then we got stuck at the castle.”
“You could’ve mentioned it when we ate here the first time. Not that I’m complaining, this is next-level.”
Rachel grins, nudging my arm. “That’s saying something, coming from her.”
She turns to Cam, beaming. “I love that this place is yours. It fits you.”
She touches his arm with a light, playful gesture. There’s something about him right now that feels… different.
“The kitchen’s my happy place when I’m not dealin’ with other chaos.”
Rachel tilts her head, hanging on to every word. “Like what?”
Cam winks, brushing off the question. “That’s a story for another day.”
Rachel and I exchange a look. Yeah, he’s hiding something.
But before we can push any further, he stands. “Anyway, just came out to mingle with guests.” He nods toward the dining room. “Need to make sure everyone’s happy and full. I’ll be back.”
We watch as he moves through the restaurant, effortlessly charming everyone in his path. He’s in his element, and it’s honestly such an endearing thing. Not to mention he looks really good doing it.
Rachel and I refocus on our plans for the rest of the week, deciding how to tackle my family stuff, but just as I’m about to ask her something, that feeling creeps up again.
That slow, uncomfortable crawl up my spine like I’m being watched.
I scan the room, and all I’m met with is diners enjoying their meals, chatting and laughing. The same old nothing.
By the time we finally drag ourselves back to the house, we’re full, exhausted, and on the verge of a food coma. No deep conversations, no planning, just straight to bed.
Except I can’t sleep, because my brain is an asshole. How can one person stir up so many emotions? One second, I’m annoyed as hell, and the next? It’s a full-on flooding of the Nile.
It’s more than annoying.
I don’t even want to admit how many times on this trip I’ve reached for the stupid toy Rachel gave me as a post breakup gift.
Joke’s on me, apparently.
That thing has become a lifeline. Every heated exchange, every lingering look, every moment I catch myself thinking about his voice, his smile, his damn arms. All of it fuels my guilty little late-night routine.
Even now, just thinking about him sends a pulse of hunger through my body. My skin is suddenly too sensitive, and my mind too restless.
I groan, flipping onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow like that’ll shut my brain up. I force myself to breathe, to focus, to sleep. Really I do. But the second I wrestle my horny thoughts into a dark corner, that other feeling slinks right back in. The one that makes my skin crawl.
It coils tighter, sinking deep into my stomach. I hold my breath, listening. Waiting. But all I get is silence.
Then it's gone, like it was never there at all. Poof. Except it leaves me with a tight chest and that lovely, gnawing pit of dread in my gut. Love that for me.
I take a deep breath, shaking my head. I’m likely freaking myself out over nothing, but now I’m even more awake than I was a second ago. I force myself to relax, stretching out under the covers, but my body is restless and aching.
I roll onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow with a muffled groan. It shouldn't be this hard to sleep.
The second I start thinking about Kane again, I press my thighs together, but it does absolutely nothing to relieve the needy pulse between them. So naturally, my hand starts drifting toward my nightstand.
Maybe just a quick—
“You’re not as quiet as you think you are, take the night off. Give her a break.” Rachel yells from the other room.
Oh. My. God.
Mortification slams into me, and before I can even scrape together a comeback, her voice pipes back in through the walls. I slap a hand over my face, debating if suffocation is a better alternative to living through the night and having to face her in the morning.
“Goodnight.”