CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ~ ABBY ~ NOW #2
“That’d be great. Thanks.” Without waiting for a response, I duck into my room.
My phone’s battery is running low, so I plug it in and switch the WiFi back on before stripping out of my clothes and putting on the fluffy robe I found in the armoire on my first day here.
I check my phone before leaving the room, groaning when I see the flood of spammy emails from the job sites I’ve subscribed to.
I’m about to clear all of them when I see the name of a romance author I worked with several years ago before she left to pursue self-publishing. Curiosity takes hold when I see the subject line: Scottish Doppelg?nger?
Hi Abby,
This is really random since we haven’t spoken in years, but are you in Edinburgh, Scotland right now?
I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently, and today I could have sworn I saw you on Princes Street.
Did my mind conjure you up? Did I just have my first real-life doppelg?nger experience? Or are you in Scotland too?
Whatever the case, seeing you or simply *imagining* it was you spurred me to finally email you.
I don’t want to assume you’ve followed my career over the last few years, but I’ve had quite a bit of success with indie publishing.
I’ve been lucky to work with some great freelance editors, but I’ve never connected with any of them the way I connected with you.
I’m between editors—and projects, as I do research for my next book—and it got me wondering if you’ve ever done or would consider doing freelance editing?
I would love the chance to work with you again, especially on my current project, since I remember we shared a love for this beautiful country.
If that was you and you’re here for a bit, can we meet for coffee or something?
I’m here for another month or so, splitting my time between Edinburgh and Inverness.
And if my imagination ran away with me and I conjured you in a case of wishful thinking, can we schedule a video chat?
Even if you’re not interested in working together or you don’t have time, I’d still like to catch up.
All the best,
Samantha
I scan the email a second time, unable to ignore the tingles that race across my skin.
I try to convince myself the sensations are caused by the damp chill seeping into me, but this unexpected email, paired with the coincidence of Samantha and me being in Edinburgh at the same time, has made my brain buzz.
I’ve been so set on needing to have a specific sort of job—a nine-to-five, something in an office, a sense of structure and order—I haven’t considered other possibilities. And I can’t take the time to consider any of that now because Graeme is waiting.
When I enter the bathroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the tub, staring into the swirling water as he rakes a hand through his damp hair. Floral-scented steam wafts from the bath, giving me the strongest sensation of déjà vu.
Graeme looks up at me, smiling slightly when he sees what I’m wearing. “Hiya.”
“Hiya,” I echo, charmed as always by what I discovered fourteen years ago is a common Scottish greeting. “Do you remember that day we hiked Arthur’s Seat and you drew me a bath afterward?” I don’t know why I’m asking; he already told me he remembers everything.
“Aye, you fell and hurt yourself,” he says.
I wrinkle my nose. “I was hoping you’d forgotten that part.”
He huffs in amusement. “Consider it forgotten. I ran you a bath because you were soaked and filthy after getting caught in the rain.”
“Right, exactly.” I open my mouth to continue, but something about his expression makes me ask, “What’s that look?”
“You weren’t the only thing that slipped that day,” he says, peering up at me with a lopsided smile.
I shove his shoulder. “You’re the worst. What are you talking about?”
“I let my facade slip when I was inspecting your bruise. The one you didn’t get from falling.” Another cheeky grin, this time paired with a wink that makes me roll my eyes even as it tugs at something in my belly. “I thought for sure you knew I was in love with you.”
I shake my head. “I remember being sort of stunned, maybe even a little confused by your reaction.” I play with the belt on my robe, running it between my fingers before wrapping it around them. “There’s something else I remember.”
He raises his eyebrows in silent question.
My cheeks grow warm. Why am I doing this? There are walks down memory lane, but this is something else entirely. “I imagined what it would be like if you were in the tub with me. It was comforting and soothing, but...sexy too.”
He had ducked his head to look at the water while I was speaking, so I can’t see his reaction now. “Did you touch yourself?”
I’m not sure why the question embarrasses me or makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl. I started this, after all. “I wanted to, but it felt wrong. We were still just friends.”
He nods slowly, lifting his head and pinning me with those cerulean eyes. “Did you ever think of me when you touched yourself?”
I watch, mesmerized, as he trails his fingers over the surface of the water. My cheeks heat further as I imagine him doing the same to my skin. “Sometimes. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.”
“What about now?”
“After the wedding, I basically retrained my brain and didn’t allow myself to think of you in any romantic or sexual capacity. That being said, in the past month or so, you might have made a few appearances in my fantasies...” I watch his face closely, but his expression remains unchanged.
“How about since you’ve been here?”
A heavy breath rushes out of me. All my mental training flew out the window after my first night here.
Graeme was always undeniably attractive, but there’s something about this slightly older version of him that’s even more irresistible.
The laugh lines, the metallic threads of silver in his hair, the thick burr of his accent.
For years, there was so much distance between us, both physically and emotionally, but having him down the hall, with the scent of his familiar cologne lingering in the air, has been too much for my hormones. “Yes.”
His eyes are narrowed slightly as they study my face. He turns away suddenly and wrenches off the tap. “Bath’s ready.”
And with that, he slips past me and out the door.
My mouth hangs open as I stare at the closed door.
I don’t know what I expected when I started that line of conversation, but it certainly wasn’t the emotional whiplash I feel right now.
As I slip into the hot, fragrant water, my cheeks sting even as I realize I should be grateful Graeme’s self-preservation instincts kicked in and compelled him to walk away.
Things are complicated enough without crossing the line into a physical relationship yet again.
The door flies open, startling me so badly I sink down in the water up to my nose. Graeme strides into the room, stopping abruptly beside the tub. His stormy expression clears instantly when he sees me.
“You look like a hippo,” he says.
I slide back into a seated position, not bothering to cover myself. “Just what every girl wants to hear when she’s naked.”
My blood heats as Graeme’s gaze dips to my breasts. I feel so flushed, I’m surprised the bathwater doesn’t start to boil. When his eyes meet mine again, that storminess is back.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join me?” I ask.
His eyebrows wing up. “Is that what you want?”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s a bad idea.” Despite his words, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, letting it fall at his feet. So much for those self-preservation instincts.
“A terrible idea,” I agree. My mouth is practically watering at the sight of his broad chest and muscled shoulders.
I watch his strong hands as they unfasten his belt buckle and then undo the zipper on his jeans.
He grips the waistband and pushes down his underwear along with his pants.
I swallow convulsively when I see he’s already half hard.
My gaze carries downward as he kicks his pants aside. I think back to Drew and Fern’s appreciative comments about Graeme’s muscular form earlier. If his thighs looked good encased in denim, the sight before me is nothing short of spectacular.
“You look like you want to sink your teeth into me,” he murmurs.
“I do. Get in here.” I pull my knees up to make room for him.
He climbs into the tub and sits across from me.
When I stretch out my legs, he takes my feet in his lap, hissing softly when my toes accidentally-on-purpose brush his erection.
A combination of giddiness and nerves create an effervescent feeling that rises in my chest and throat.
I sigh and tip my head back as Graeme rubs one of my feet.
He digs his thumbs into my arch, eliciting a moan.
Our eyes lock, and a smile flirts around the edges of his mouth as his hands move higher, focusing for a moment on my ankle before inching up my calf.
“Drew said there’s a new art gallery in Kingston that you two have visited a couple of times,” Graeme says.
The casual comment throws me off guard. We’re naked in a bathtub and he’s got his hands on me, and yet he wants to talk about an art gallery? I blink at him, but he simply gazes back steadily.
“Yeah, it’s in the west end.” My voice is shaking, so I clear my throat and try again. “It features a bunch of local artists. Drew bought a gorgeous painting of a field of heather in Skye for Brodie’s birthday.”
“Ahh, that’s where it’s from,” he says. “Brodie sent me a picture. He was really touched. Said it reminded him of summers back home.”
My breath hitches as Graeme’s long fingers wrap around the back of my knee. “That’s what she was hoping for.”
Without warning, he shifts his legs and grips my thighs, hauling me forward. Water splashes around us as my arms fly out to steady myself.