One Great Love: A Finding Love in Scotland Series Novella

by Azzi , Gina

  One Great Love

  A Finding Love in Scotland Series Novella

  Gina Azzi

  One Great Love

  Copyright © 2020 by Gina Azzi

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  1. Keira

  2. Lachlan

  3. Keira

  4. Lachlan

  5. Keira

  6. Lachlan

  Epilogue

  One Last Chance

  Also by Gina Azzi

  About the Author

  1

  Keira

  “Keira Kearns.”

  My eyes close at the sound of his voice saying my name.

  Low and rumbly.

  Easy and familiar.

  That voice infiltrates my dreams—both waking and sleeping.

  It’s been four months since I’ve seen Lachlan Begay, four months since I’ve found myself tangled up in his sheets, and still, the sound of his voice does things to my insides.

  My insides in the nether region, if you catch my drift.

  “Lachlan Begay,” I reply, trying to keep the breathlessness from my tone. Except it’s impossible because Lachlan has the unique ability to render me speechless, breathless, and stupid with one word. Or in this case, two.

  “I didn’t know you drank coffee,” he states casually, as if it’s normal for us to run into each other in the little coffee shop near his mum’s home. It’s not because he lives a glitzy, ritzy life in London while I work on Dad’s farm just outside Edinburgh.

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” I force myself to turn around and meet his gaze, a small smile pasted on my lips to be polite. “Have a nice visit with your mum, Lach.”

  “Wait.” He frowns, reaching out quickly to grab my wrist. Tilting his head toward a cafe table, he sighs. “Sit for a minute. Talk to me.” I dislike his pleading tone and the twist of his mouth. But more than that, I hate the regret flaring in his midnight eyes.

  Lachlan and I ended our serious college relationship days after graduation when he announced he was moving to London. He broke my heart with soft words and desperate eyes and enough remorse to keep him hovering in my periphery for the next four years. Every interaction since — too many to count — has always ended in regret.

  His or mine.

  His because after we spend hours pressed against each other, naked and wanting, he apologizes for not being able to give me more.

  And me, because I never stop hoping for the more. The bit that comes after the sex. The cuddling and confiding and public declarations of…more. But the past year has forced me to admit what I’ve always known.

  Lachlan and I were amazing together in college. But in real life, not so much.

  Which is why I’ve finally jumped on board the dating train, seeing guys who’ve asked me out for years. With them, I enjoy fancy dinners and simple breakfasts, morning hikes, and late-night movies. It’s been fun and exciting but something is always missing.

  None of them draw me in the way Lachlan does with one searing glance.

  One pleading word.

  Sighing, even as my heart gallops in my chest, and my palms grow clammy, and my head curses me for being such a stupid, naive girl, I walk to the cafe table and sit.

  Lachlan retrieves his coffee and a couple of scones and joins me, pushing the paper bag closer. “Are these still your favorite?”

  I peek into the bag, breathing in the fresh scent of the berry scone and nod, picking off a piece and popping it into my mouth.

  “How’ve you been, Keira?” he asks, his voice a frustrating rasp, his eyes searching mine.

  “Fine.” I chew my scone slowly, tilting my head to study him. “I like your hair like this.”

  He rubs a hand down the back of his head, a smirk glancing off his lips. His black hair is styled differently now. Shorter on the sides, longer on top, I imagine what he looks like first thing in the morning, before he runs product through it. Soft enough to run my fingers through, long enough to grip when we’re kissing.

  “Thanks.” He leans closer, dipping his head to catch my gaze. “I saw your dad’s announcement in the paper.”

  Nodding I take a long swig of my coffee, wincing as it burns the roof of my mouth.

  Of course he saw the announcement.

  My family’s farm hosts an annual Valentine’s day gala that all the locals look forward to.

  Except this year, Dad’s practically throwing the farm’s entire annual events budget behind the gala. Not because it’s the most important or lucrative event the farm hosts.

  But because it brings Nanna joy. And right now, Nanna deserves all the happiness and comfort we can offer her.

  His hand travels over the table slowly, his touch tender as his fingers slide over my wrist.

  “How bad is she, Keira?” His voice is low, heavy with sadness.

  Pulling the scone out of the bag with my free hand, I shove a giant bite into my mouth. Of course news travels fast in our little circle of friends. And while Lachlan and I are no longer real friends, just occasionally friendly, he would have heard through the grapevine that Nanna’s health took a turn for the worst over the holidays, and now we’re just praying for her to enjoy one last gala.

  His fingertips graze over my inner wrist, tracing lazy eights.

  My blood warms automatically at his touch, simmering from his genuine concern. “Tell me,” he murmurs, his eyes blazing black. Too dark to decipher.

  “As bad as it could be,” I admit on a whisper. “The doctor said three to six months. This will be her last gala, and she’s desperate to attend. Dad wanted to cancel, but Nanna insisted, something about one last great love.” I shake my head, my voice cracking from the tears tightening my throat. “You know Nanna. A hopeless romantic with too much hope.”

  “No.” He shakes his head, his voice tender, his expression softening. “Nanna’s got it right. It’s the rest of us who are doing it all wrong.”

  Shrugging, I sip my coffee in a poor attempt to control my emotions. I never liked the taste much, but after the last few months, caffeine has been the only thing keeping me going through the endless days and worrisome nights. “It’s going to be spectacular. I need this event to bring her the peace she’s yearning for. It’s where she and my granda met.”

  “I know.”

  “She keeps speaking about a great love to carry the tradition forward, and I don’t know what she means.” I swipe my fingers under my right eye, averting my gaze. “But if the gala will make her happy, then it’s going to be the greatest one Kearns Farm has ever held.”

  “What do you need?”

  I rear back as if he’s slapped me. “The Kearns don’t accept charity, Lachlan.”

  He swallows, swearing under his breath, as his fingers grip my wrist harder. “I know that, Kiera. I wasn’t…” He shakes his head, “Let me help with the marketing.”

  Closing my eyes, I swallow. Of course Lachlan wants to help. He adores Nanna, has from the moment he met her six y
ears ago. But can I really work with him? After all these years, so much history, too many hurts and never enough affection, could I set my stupid, messy emotions aside and—

  “Please, Keira.”

  Opening my eyes, I take in Lachlan’s solemn expression. The worry shadowing his eyes, the tightness of his jawline. “How long are you visiting for?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Why?” My heart thuds in my chest. Nerves prickle the base of my spine as my hand stiffens under his. It’s unusual for Lachlan to be home again so soon after the holidays. Has he met someone? Is he here to visit her?

  Long ago, when he first moved to London, he would come back to see me. But those weekend trips faded out and our new norm, random hook-ups and an occasional drunk text, replaced them.

  “Sierra’s in town with the baby.”

  “Oh.” I smile, relief flooding my bloodstream, as I remember that his little sister gave birth to a baby girl last summer. “Your mum must be happy.”

  “Over the moon,” he agrees, leaning back in his chair, his hold on me slipping.

  Immediately, I feel the loss of his touch and hate myself for being so in tune to him. To his proximity, his mood, his convoluted emotions. Lachlan Begay has been playing me like a fiddle since the first day I met him.

  What’s worse? I’ve allowed it to continue in various degrees after our breakup.

  Because he never lied. He never told me one thing and did another. From the week following graduation, when he accepted a job at his stepfather’s marketing firm, he was honest that his career was his number one priority.

  But the chemistry between us, the connection we shared, my God. A small part of me, the tiny portion that always kept me anchored to Lachlan was the belief that eventually, he’d change.

  If I could hold on long enough, he would finally realize how great we are together. How beautiful our future could be.

  Except I’m too tired now to hang onto anything, especially not a stupid notion about changing the man who broke my heart. Now, it’s easier, and a hell of a lot more convenient, to date the men who live in Edinburgh. Who can grab a last-minute dinner or sneak in a lunch date. And right now, that’s Lorne Campbell.

  He's nice and sweet. Considerate and generous. Incredibly handsome.

  He makes me smile and forget all the things happening at home. At least for a little while.

  Fine, he doesn’t light my body up like a firecracker or make me feel like I’m floating in outer space, untethered to anything but him. But maybe that type of passion is overrated.

  For one thing, it’s too damn complicated.

  For another, it’s unpredictable.

  Lachlan Begay is like a live wire and right now, I need steady. Secure.

  Right now, Lorne Campbell is the safer choice.

  “Keira.” Lach says, his brow threading.

  “All right,” I say finally. “You can help.”

  “I’d like that. Listen, I —”

  I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Things between us are good, right?”

  He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening at whatever he reads in my expression. “We’re always good, Keira.”

  “Great. I’m sure my dad will appreciate your marketing expertise.” I stand, picking up my to-go coffee cup.

  “Of course.” Lachlan scrambles to his feet, his expression wary, his mouth pinched. “I know you have a lot going on but if you need anything, or want to talk —”

  “I’m fine. We’re meeting tomorrow at the farm at six pm to discuss the event. If you’re serious about helping, I’ll see you there.” I offer a small smile and, for the first time ever, I turn my back on Lachlan Begay.

  * * *

  “You saw him, my dear, didn’t you?” Nanna asks, her eyes all-knowing, even as the knitting needles in her shaky hands clack together.

  “How do you know?” I laugh, placing a tray with two teacups on the table next to her.

  “That lad always made you dreamy.” Nanna places down her knitting needles, ignoring the lack of progress on the scarf she’s been working on for the past month.

  “He’s always made me furious, that’s what he makes me.”

  Nanna laughs before it turns into a cough. Grabbing a handkerchief, I press it into her hand until her coughing settles down. She shakes her head, her eyes watery but clear. “Keira, any man who can light you up with that much passion is worth keeping. Don’t give up on him yet.”

  “I’m seeing Lorne now, Nanna.”

  “And he’s a wonderful lad. Has a great sense of humor. He’s easy on the eyes.”

  I snort.

  “But Lachlan, he sees you. Even when you think he’s not noticing, he sees the very essence of you, Keira. Why do you think he’s never properly let you go?”

  “Because he’s annoying.”

  “Then why haven’t you given up on him?”

  “Because I’m stupid.” I grind out, dropping a sugar cube into my tea.

  Nanna grins, her eyes brightening. “Because you both know, deep down, that there’s unfinished business.”

  “Nanna.” I sigh.

  “Boys are late bloomers, my dear. Takes them longer to do everything. Potty-training, managing money responsibly, learning their own hearts.” Nanna stops ticking off the examples on her fingers to take the mug of tea I pass her. She takes a sip, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. “But when those boys grow into men, they’re the sticking kind. After all, it took them so long to finally commit to what they’ve always wanted. And Lachlan, he’s a good, sticking kind of man, Keira.”

  I shake my head, squeezing Nanna’s hand. “I’m tired of giving him so many chances.”

  “Then let him earn them.” She smiles, her eyes twinkling. “Might even be a wee bit of fun, aye?”

  Chuckling, I nod. “Aye, Nanna. You’ll be pleased to know he wants to help with the gala.”

  “Wonderful news.”

  “So, he’ll be here tomorrow at six.”

  “Good. He’s been gone for so long. It’s time for him to come home.”

  2

  Lachlan

  “You’re annoying me.”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” my sister, Sierra, replies, sticking her tongue out at me. I don’t need to look up to know what she’s doing; I’ve been in tune with Sierra’s irritating qualities since the moment she was born, and it hasn’t made me love her any less.

  “You’re teaching your daughter childish antics.” I grin up at my adorable niece, Luna Mae, as I tie my trainers.

  “Nah, that’s what Denver’s for,” my sister quips, sitting on a chair in Mom’s living room and bouncing Luna on her knee.

  “Sucks Den couldn’t come out.” I glance up, noting the way my sister chews the corner of her mouth.

  “I know. I hate being away from him,” she admits, her expression softening as her eight-month-old daughter reaches out a tiny hand in my direction.

  “It’s only two weeks, Sisi.” I stand, taking my niece from her and holding Luna above my head. “Besides, Luna needs some time with her Uncle Lach.”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Damn straight. I’m going to teach you how to drive your Mommy crazy.” I coo at my niece, holding her against my chest and brushing a kiss over her head. She smells like new baby and love and already has me—and everyone in my family—wrapped around her tiny finger.

  “So, you’re really staying in Edinburgh for the next two weeks?” Sierra asks, narrowing her gaze.

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? To see you and Luna.”

  “Try again.”

  “To help Aaron and Finn out with a few things at the office.”

  “One more time.” My sister grins, that annoying, all-knowing, I’m-onto-your-game grin that’s been getting her in trouble since she was twelve.

  “Nanna Kearns,” I admit, sticking my tongue out at Sierra.

  “You mean Keira? Why can’t you jus
t admit you’ve been secretly pining for her since college?”

  “I don’t pine. And I mean Nanna. She’s not well, and Keira and her family want to hold one last event for her.”

  “The Valentine’s Day gala!” Sierra grins, clapping her hands. “Ooh, it’s one of my favorites.” She pauses, a frown marring her expression. “What do you mean Nanna Kearns isn’t well? She’s okay, right?”

  I shrug, and my sister’s eyes fill with tears. Partly, I know it’s still the hormones of being a new mom. But also, it’s because Nanna Kearns is like everyone’s Nanna. Even Sierra’s, who lives an entire ocean away.

  “I’ll visit her this week,” my sister promises.

  Nodding, I blow a raspberry against Luna’s cheek. “Bring the baby. It will make her happy.”

  “Yeah. So, where are you going?”

  “I asked Keira if I could help with the marketing for the event.”

  “Lach, it’s a local annual gala. Everyone knows about it.”

  “The Kearns family wants this year to be extra special.”

  My sister nods, chewing the corner of her mouth. “They should get Aaron, the real Anderson marketing guru.”

  After flipping my sister the middle finger for even suggesting that my cousin Aaron would do a better job than me, she dissolves into laughter. “I’m just kidding.” She stands, reaching her arms out to her daughter who happily falls into them. “Now go, woo your woman.”

  “She’s not my woman.”

  “She should be.”

  “I think that ship sailed a long time ago,” I admit, bitterness rolling over my tongue at the words. I hated how Keira shot me down after we slept together four months ago. And then again, today in the coffee shop. True, I’ve been falling into her and pulling away for years now, but not because I don’t care about her.