He let go of her hand, feeling spent. “The worst part is, I didn’t get a chance to tell my dad I was sorry.”
She left her one hand over his heart and wrapped the other arm around his waist. She spoke into his chest. “I can’t imagine what you went through. I don’t know what I would do without my da.” She kissed his chest as though trying to heal the pain in his heart. “Here’s what I know. You loved yere da, and I’m sure he knew it. I would bet anything he understood that teenage boys need to hang out with their friends.” She rubbed his back. “Yere da, after all, was a boy once himself.”
Her words soothed him from the inside out. The weight wasn’t completely lifted, but shifted off his chest enough to where he could breathe without it hurting so much.
Before he could thank Pippa, the door to Quilting Central opened. Deydie and Moira walked out and stopped abruptly, as if a selkie sat at the railing where he and Pippa stood. Deydie frowned, and Moira hid the first smile that he’d seen from her.
“What are ye doing there, Pippa?” Deydie barked. “I thought I made myself clear earlier.” The old woman glanced at the door of Quilting Central as if she might go back in and get her broom.
Pippa opened her mouth, and Max smiled. He was pretty sure the words that were going to fly weren’t going to be pleasant. But Moira latched onto Deydie’s arm first.
“We need to hurry to my house. I promised Glenna that you, me, and Mattie were going to make cookies to put in the freezer for the going-away party.”
Deydie glowered at Moira and then pointed at Pippa. “Watch yereself, girl.”
Pippa pulled away. They waited until Moira and Deydie were out of sight.
He felt jagged, raw, but better. “We should get going.”
Back at the house, they peeked in on the McDonnell, but he wasn’t awake.
She pointed to the steps. “Take your things upstairs to Da’s room. You’ll be able to figure out which one.”
“The one without stuffed animals?”
“Very cheeky.”
As he started up the stairs, the front door opened. Maggie, who was married to Ross’s brother John, was standing there with a roasting pan covered in foil. She looked from Max to Pippa, and frowned.
“What is he doing here?”
Great. Just what I need. Max came back down to stand with Pippa. “Apparently, I live here for now.”
Maggie made a guttural noise and glared at both of them. “Does Ross know?”
Pippa rolled her eyes. “Nay. But I’m sure ye’ll fill him in. Neither Max nor I are happy about it, Maggie, so ye can stop with the attitude. The McDonnell decreed it.”
But when she said the McDonnell, Max knew she was remembering she was the McDonnell now.
From the den, the man in question cleared his throat. “Is something going on?”
Pippa shot Maggie a look, but spoke to her father. “Maggie stopped by with some dinner and was just leaving.” Pippa took the pan. “Thank you.”
Maggie huffed out. Max figured there’d be hell to pay. He just didn’t know who was going to get the brunt of it—Pippa, him, or Ross.
Max took the stairs while Pippa carried the pan into the kitchen. How in the world did he ever get wrangled up in this mess? He certainly hadn’t anticipated any of this: getting trapped in Gandiegow’s gossip mill, being bossed around by a large Scotsman, but only after being nearly caught wrapped up in the sheets with his beautiful daughter.
At the top of the stairs there were three doors. One led to the bathroom, the second to the McDonnell’s room, and the third to Pippa’s. He stepped into her room and looked around. She had a tool kit and a half-fixed broken fan on her desk. A black dress hung on a hanger looped over the closet door. And a stack of folded laundry was sitting on the bed with colorful panties lying on top. He picked up one of the lacy bits and examined it. Last night, they’d been in such a hurry to get naked, he hadn’t paid attention to what she wore.
“They won’t fit ye.” She stood in the doorway with one raised eyebrow. “Does this look like my da’s room?”
“I got lost,” he deadpanned. He picked up another of her panties and held it out to her. “Care to model these for me?”
“Nay. Dinner’s waiting for ye in the kitchen.”
It was a bad idea to get too domestic. He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m meeting Miranda at the pub. She should be back by now and I’m supposed to give her an update on what we accomplished.”
“Simultaneous climax?” Pippa asked. “I didn’t think ye were the type of lad to kiss and tell.”
Pippa was messing with him and he wasn’t having it.
Yes, they’d shared a moment outside Quilting Central and connected on a deeper level, but that didn’t change anything. It was a bad idea to set up camp in the bedroom next to hers. A terrible idea. He stared down at her panties still in his hand. He wanted nothing more than to spread her on top of her unmade bed and have her pleading for him to give her more. It took everything in him to drop her underwear back on the pile and walk out.
He opened the other bedroom door and set his bag inside. When he turned around, Pippa still stood in her doorway, pinning him with a glare.
“That’s it?” she said. “Ye’ve got nothing else to say?”
He gave her a determined smile. “Yes. Don’t wait up.” And he forced himself to walk down the stairs and out the front door.
* * *
Pippa stomped downstairs and went to the kitchen. She needed to make a tray for her da. He needed to take his pills. Then I need to call Emma and have my head examined.
When she got to the den with her father’s dinner, she switched the light on.
“What’s all the ruckus about?” her da asked.
“Max moved in.”
“Good.” Da leaned to look around her, wincing with the movement. “Where is he now? He’s having dinner with us, isn’t he?”
Pippa rolled her eyes. “He’s off to the pub.”
“To see Miranda?” It was the first time her da had actually used her name.
“Aye. I don’t trust her, Da.” Pippa couldn’t tell him, for many reasons, about her crazy jealousy.
The McDonnell assessed her for a long minute and then cleared his throat. “Daughter? Didn’t ye say that ye had a shift tonight at the pub?”
“Nay. That’s tomorrow night.”
“No, I believe it’s tonight,” he insisted.
Pippa turned toward him. “But—”
“If I were you,” he said. “I think I’d show up at the pub anyway. Sooner rather than later.”
“Da, are you ordering me to go to the pub tonight?” she asked anxiously.
“I wouldn’t dream of telling a grown woman what to do.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best man I know.”
He smiled, and for a brief moment, he looked like his old self. “Aye. Now, get on with ye.”
Pippa stopped in mid-flee. “Is Freda coming over to play canasta tonight?”
He turned away. “She’s busy.”
“I’ll call her,” Pippa said. “I don’t want ye left alone.”
“I’m a grown man myself. I need my peace and quiet.”
“But Freda—”
He shifted his gaze away from Pippa. “Freda won’t be back.”
“But Da—”
“Leave an old man alone. Go on now. I need ye to watch out for the Yank, because I’m not there to do it.”
She knew he was conflicted—a pair of lines wedged between his eyebrows. Sending her to watch out for Max was like having a mouse guard the cheddar.
“If ye’re sure.”
When he nodded, she grabbed her coat. Da would have to be okay for a few hours. Pippa had one goal tonight. Keep Miranda from getting her hooks in Max again.
Cha
pter Fifteen
When Pippa got to the pub, she joined Bonnie behind the bar while scanning the room.
Bonnie sidled up beside her. “What are you doing here? Tonight’s my night. Did ye forget?”
“Nay. Just came in to keep my eye on things.” Pippa located Max at the back booth, alone, with a shot of whisky. “You go on home. I’ve got this.”
Bonnie eyed her and where she was looking. She grabbed a rag and wiped down the bar. “Something tells me I better stay.”
Just as Pippa was relaxing, thinking maybe Max had fibbed about meeting with Miranda, Herself walked into the pub. Her gaze fell on Max as a slow smile covered her face. It was a scheming smile if Pippa had ever seen one. Instead of Miranda attacking her prey, she headed to the bar first.
“My, my,” the woman said. “Here again?”
Pippa wanted to scratch her eyes out. “What can I get for ye? Another ale?” A pint of poison?
“For you to stay behind the bar this time. Max and I have business to discuss and I don’t want you horning in like you did last time.”
“My da sent me to watch out for him tonight.” Pippa didn’t know why she’d admitted that, except maybe to warn Miranda off.
Miranda surprised her by laughing. “Lachlan.” She purred his name. “Your father, my dear girl, is one hell of a man.”
Pippa went cold with dread. “What are ye talking about?”
She laughed again heartedly. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” She tsked. “Maybe it was supposed to be a secret. But alas, I’ve let the cat out of the bag.”
Pippa froze. She didn’t want to hear any more.
Miranda had no mercy. “You know, MTech sent me to meet with Lachlan in Edinburgh. I recall that it was after you and he had lunch at a café with a strange name. Oh, now I remember, The Elephant House.”
Where Harry Potter was written. Pippa had had lunch with Da there about a year ago, when he was in town on business. She hadn’t asked him about it, more interested in telling him how her job was going than what was happening with NSV.
Miranda ran her index finger along the bar. “We had dinner and went back to my room. It was a hell of a night. Your father is a skilled lover. One of the best that I’ve ever had.” She gazed back at Max deliberately as if to telegraph that Max was a skilled lover, too.
But Pippa couldn’t wrap her mind around the new information: My father slept with Miranda?
Max watched them and looked concerned.
“How do I know ye’re not making all this up?”
Miranda laid her money on the bar. “Ask your father. Better yet, take me to him; I’d like to be there when you do.”
“No!” Pippa’s hand closed around a bottle of whisky and she squeezed. “What do you want? Why are you telling me this?”
“It’s just a friendly warning. Max and I do business the same way. We’ll do anything to make the deal.”
Bam. The punch line. Pippa’s heart lost several beats. It was true. The only thing Max cared about was the deal. He’d pretty much said so. He’d do anything to have the subsea shutoff valve.
Looking increasingly concerned, Max stood. Pippa’s breath hitched—from pain or from some perverse sexual attraction to the enemy, she didn’t know.
He scanned her face. Then his eyes shifted to Miranda. He stalked over to them, but spoke to Pippa. “What’s going on here?”
Miranda slid her hand down Max’s arm. “Girl talk. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Pippa, are you all right?” He reached out to her.
But Pippa jerked away, knocking the whisky bottle over. She caught it before it shattered on the floor. “I have to get home. I have to see to my da.” She had her coat and was gone before Max could stop her.
Outside, she could no longer hold back the tears. Her da was the best man she knew. Why then would he let himself get caught up in that Delilah’s bed? It was the final blow to what Pippa believed her father to be—a man with good sense.
“Are all men idiots?” she hollered to the wind.
She’d thought her father was the one man in the world she could trust. But lately, she’d uncovered evidence of the opposite. The shape of the factory. Mortgaging the house to make payroll. Sleeping with Miranda, who clearly was bankrupt when it came to moral integrity.
All these years Pippa had believed her da extraordinary. But the rose-colored glasses were off. He was an extremely flawed man.
“He really can’t read people,” she whispered, wiping away the tears.
He said Max wouldn’t hurt any of them. Yet Max had used her to get what he wanted.
“I can’t believe I had sex with him.”
“What?”
Pippa jumped.
Ross was standing right behind her. “Can I talk to you?”
“Now’s not a good time. We can talk tomorrow at the factory.” Then Pippa remembered what she and Max had done in her office. “Or we could meet at the restaurant in the morning for tea.”
“Maggie cornered me tonight at dinner. Said the Yank had moved in with ye.” Ross looked troubled.
Surely he wasn’t jealous.
“So?” Pippa challenged. “It was Da’s idea. Ye know how he can be when he’s made his mind up. There’s no changing it.”
“But McKinley isn’t really what I want to talk about.”
“Then what?”
“I think we should stop dancing around the issue and stand up to our obligations for our families’ sake. It’s time we set a date.”
Crap! The universe really had it in for her. She could deal with only one crisis at a time. And she was still reeling over what Miranda had said at the pub. But Pippa was way overdue in telling Ross the truth. She took his arm, ready to steer him away for a talk, but was interrupted.
“Pippa?” Max hurried up to them. “Why did you disappear?” He glanced at her hand wrapped around the other man’s arm.
Ross patted her. “I’ll leave ye to talk to the Yank and tell him how it’s going to be.” He walked away without a backward glance.
Max reached out and snagged her upper arm. “What did Miranda do to upset you?”
Pippa pulled away. “Give me some space, Max.” Unfortunately, it sounded a little like pleading. She hated coming from a place of weakness. She had been weak for Max almost from the beginning. But no more.
“But what about the contract?” he said.
Aye. The only thing he cared about.
He implored her with his eyes. “It has to be sent in. Miranda said time is running out. We can go over it again together tonight if you like.”
“Is that code for more sex? Never mind. I’ll take care of the contract. Now leave me be.”
His brows furrowed deeper. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” He seemed to be remembering everything good that they’d shared. Working on the contract together. Making love. Those moments of having a deep connection. And then he said it.
“What about us?”
“There is no us, Max.” She couldn’t do this anymore. This was good-bye as far as she was concerned. She chewed her lip for only a second before deciding to use Ross as her excuse just one more time. She steadied her gaze on Max and delivered the words that would sever her from this man, now and forever.
“You forget yereself, Yank. I’m engaged.”
Max stilled, but she could see the fiery anger building in him. “Since when, Pippa?” The words shot out like missiles. “Since this afternoon when you climbed on top of me and came in my arms?”
Numbness consumed her. She wouldn’t think about making love to him, how wonderful it’d been, how reckless. “Go back to the pub, Max. Miranda’s waiting.”
He glared at her for one more moment, then turned and was gone. Which was good. She needed to find Ross.
She spotted him at the Armstrongs’ fishing boa
t, checking the lines, making sure they were secure.
“Hey.”
He glanced up. “All done with the Yank? That was fast.”
She was done with him all right, but it hurt too much to voice it. “Can we step aboard for a minute?”
“Sure.” Ross must’ve understood the need for privacy, because he went into the wheelhouse and she joined him there. For a long minute, they stood looking out at the sea.
She’d put this off for so long, she didn’t know where to start.
“Spit it out, Pippa.” He gave her a brotherly frown, like he’d done a million times before.
She slipped into the captain’s chair and folded her hands in her lap, not meeting his gaze. “Ye know, don’t you, that we can’t do this.”
She hadn’t been clear, but she’d finally said it, and he knew her meaning. The air hung with renewed stillness. She waited.
Ross took the other chair and collapsed into it. “Gawd, Pippa.” But he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath since the day the fathers had agreed on their nuptials. He shook his head. “Can we really let the town down? The McDonnell? Are ye willing to step out on that frigging ledge?”
She exhaled, too. “Aye. Don’t you agree that we care too much about each other to get married, especially when we don’t love each other? In that way?”
They’d never dated, never kissed. The thought of kissing Ross made her cringe.
He didn’t say anything, but looked like he was thinking the same thing.
“Ross, I’ve missed our easy friendship. I want it back.”
“Aye. Me, too. But what else do ye want?” He was digging.
She spun her chair toward him. “Well, I don’t want to marry anyone, if that’s what ye’re asking.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Not even the Yank?”
“Not even the Yank.” Her words tasted like a lie.
Ross looked as if he didn’t believe her anyway.
“I told him to leave me alone . . . That you and I were engaged.”
Ross’s eyebrows crashed together. “Ye’re making no sense. Five minutes ago we were engaged, but now we’re not?”
She shrugged. “Telling Max that we were seemed easiest.”
The Accidental Scot Page 21