Scandalous Scotsman: A Hero Club Novel

by MJ Fields

  Having already showered, I make quick use of the bathroom then brush my teeth again.

  Once I’ve climbed into bed, I lie here, staring at the ceiling, utterly confused by all that he said to me downstairs.

  Yesterday, it was a mutually agreed upon, exclusive-ish friends with benefits type of relationship, and now it seems like two totally different things have happened.

  I’m not sure who to be angry at— me for allowing myself to get so worked up, or him for going on a date with a skanky piranha who very obviously tried to stake her claim on him while passive-aggressively attempting to belittle me, or him for being … a man of his word.

  When I see the door open and light from the hallway floods in, I swallow hard as he walks toward me, holding a pillow in one hand and something else in the other.

  “I ken ye said take yer bedroom downstairs, but —”

  “This is my bedroom; the one downstairs was my parents’.”

  He looks around, and only then do I realize this room still very much resembles that of an adolescent tomboy with its shelves full of completed Lego sets, a total nerd with Harry Potter posters and other magical elements, mashed up with a preteen who was obsessed with One Direction.

  If only I could snap my fingers and disappear right this very moment.

  “Interesting assortment of interests,” he says, sitting on the end of the bed, uncovering my leg and gently squeezing it. “Does this hurt?”

  “Doesn’t feel great, but hurt? No.”

  He lifts my leg and slides the pillow beneath it. Then he sets a wrapped ice pack on it. He must have brought that thinking ice cream or a Ziploc baggy full of ice wasn’t enough.

  “The Legos?” he asks.

  I sit up and turn on the lamp on my nightstand, purposely casting light on the mess I really was.

  Still am.

  “Baby steps,” I whisper-hiss at myself.

  He looks up at me curiously.

  I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  He stands up off the bed and walks over to one of the shelves. “Harry Potter?”

  “Every one of them.” I nod.

  “Let me guess, your obsession stems from a Christmas gift. You and your father pulled them out on rainy days and built them together?”

  I nod. “Do you and your daughter …?” I stop when I realize I’m asking something that is “none of my concern.”

  “Not yet, but I hope to build lots of memories with Kai. Memories I’ve missed the past eight years creating.”

  I have a million questions that I want to ask, but again, “none of my concern.”

  “I wasn’t in love with her mother. I met her on holiday. We fucked a few times. Then she came back to the States, and I went back to my life.” His back to me, he continues, “She reached out to the football club through social media to get in contact with me eight months later and told them I was a father.”

  “Wow, that must have been—”

  He turns around and smiles slightly. “A knee to the nuts?”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Probably deserved yours. Karma, you ken?”

  He turns back around, shoves his hands in his pants pockets, and inhales a deep breath, rolling the tension from his neck. “Having claims on a near monthly basis of paternity for one player or another, the club’s lawyers didn’t say a word to me. They handled it. It wasn’t until three months later that I had a confirmed DNA test, a cigar, and a pat on the back congratulating me on essentially a faulty condom.”

  “They didn’t tell you that—”

  “Protocol,” he says quickly. “Not without proof.”

  I don’t ask anymore, and that is a feat in itself.

  After a few moments he walks over, his back to me, and sits on the side of the bed, holding one of the smaller constructed sets, one I bought this past Christmas, keeping the tradition going on my own.

  “Beyza was a graduate student at Brown, in the medical science program. She and I made an agreement that our goals and dreams shouldn’t change because of her parents’ religious beliefs and the pressure she felt they’d put on us to become something we weren’t. We weren’t in love, and neither of us felt it fair to force it to happen. We arranged for her to bring Kai to Scotland and visit, because she said she’d like to explore the area, possibly wanting to move to Scotland and transfer for her fellowship program where I could be more involved, and I definitely wanted to be. I was in love with Kai from the first time I saw her on Skype.

  “We settled on her Christmas break, which would also be Kai’s first birthday, for the two of them to visit. It was all planned and paid for the very next day.

  “Over the next couple weeks, we spoke more about her family, and I learned just how controlling her father was,” he sighs, and I place my hand on his back, making small circles on the fabric of his shirt, hoping to calm some of the tension. “She never showed up, and for three months she ignored my attempts to contact her. Life was busy, so busy that another three months passed before I decided I’d had enough.

  “I hopped on a plane. Then I showed up at Brown, and for three days I waited outside different buildings where I had found out she could possibly be taking classes in until I found her.” He stood up and started pacing. “I insisted on meeting my daughter, had no problem going through her parents to do so, and after two days, it finally happened.”

  He turns and looks at me, snaps his fingers, and smiles. “That’s how long it took to realize I’d walk through fire to be part of her life.”

  Holding my hands to my chest, I smile sadly, knowing what’s coming.

  “She was right about her parents— totally controlling of their only daughter— but when I found out what they went through to get them here, to America, from Turkey, I tried to be understanding.”

  I nod.

  “I spent two weeks at a hotel, visiting her every day, but they wouldn’t let me take her on my own, even while Beyza was in class and they were at work. So, I sat in a fucking hotel room for twenty hours a day to get a few hours with her at night.

  “When I went back to Scotland, I contacted a lawyer, and we came up with a plan. Beyza and I talked every few days, and Kai called me Dada for the first time over Skype. That was a turning point. She blocked my calls for a month after that.

  “I’m not too proud to admit I lost it. I pushed my lawyer to get the ball rolling. I wanted visitation. He asked for summers and all future school holidays based on geography; it made the most sense. He explained to me if I asked for the world, I’d be lucky to get a couple weeks.

  “When they were served, Beyza called me in tears, with Kai on her lap, crying because she was clearly feeding off her mother’s emotions, and that broke my heart. She promised me Christmas again. I told her that she was more than welcome to bring her parents as well. I paid for the trip and was content.” His fists clench at his sides. “They didn’t show up.”

  My heart breaks as I look in his eyes and see the emotions within them, flashing between anger and pain.

  “I realized how hard it was to fight a custody battle, and it was now a battle across a literal ocean, so while I got my paperwork together, I flew in once a month to spend maybe three hours a day with her. After six months of that, I moved here.

  “Within that year, I saw what Beyza was going through— the push, the pull, the hurt, and the pain. We wanted to do what was right for each of us, but what was best for Kai was most important.

  “Somewhere in that timeframe, I’d fallen in massive like for Beyza and made the decision, if through all the shit that had happened, I could easily fall in love with her and do what was best by both of them, I’d ask her to marry me.”

  He walks back over and looks like he may want to sit down. When he doesn’t, I pat the spot he sat in previously. He sits and leans against the headboard.

  “Her father was insistent that I convert to the Muslim religion, and I told him flat out that I would never be a religious man but have always been qui
te spiritual. He forbid Beyza to marry me. She moved in the next day.

  “Wanting to give her a big wedding, because I know girls dream of that, but also being broke after the thousands of dollars I spent on lawyers, moving to the US, and wanting to surprise her with a home as soon as my place in Scotland sold, it wasn’t possible.

  “She begged me to just do the courthouse thing and asked that it be done on a Friday morning when her mother, who she still talked to in secrecy, could attend.

  “The night before our secret courthouse nuptials, I was working an overnight at a clinic where I filled in from time to time to make extra money. A patient came in last minute, and I kent I couldn’t get them and to the courthouse in time, so I asked if she thought her mother could pick her and Kai up. She insisted that it was no big deal, that it would probably be the most traditional part of our story.” He scrubs his hand over his face and stands off the bed again.

  “When her mother showed up crying, and saw me in the hallway, pacing outside the courtroom, I was terrified something had happened, that her father had somehow gotten to her. But when she begged my forgiveness and asked me to please tell Beyza that she was sorry and that she was here now, that’s when I realized she hadn’t picked her and Kai up, and that’s when I called Beyza’s number and a police officer informed me that there had been an accident.”

  It was as if it was all coming back to him.

  “Jesus Christ, why the fuck am I—”

  I grab his hand as he begins to walk away. “It’s okay to talk about your feelings.”

  “The fuck it is,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief at himself.

  “Ethan,” I say gently, tugging his hand.

  “I’ve said enough, imposed enough. I’ll head back down—”

  “I’d like you to stay.”

  “Twenty minutes ago, ye felt otherwise. This wasn’t some trick to get into yer bed, Elizabeth.”

  “Ouch,” I say and reach down to adjust my cold pack.

  He reaches down and inspects my leg. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Um …” I say, causing him to turn and look at me.

  “Where?”

  “Well, to be honest, it was a trick to get you in my bed.”

  He closes his eyes, and a small smile graces his face.

  “You don’t need to tell me anymore. I’m certain I know what happened and now understand more than ever why Kai is your everything. Not only is she your daughter, but you’ve obviously had to fight for her.”

  I take his hand. “Can we sleep? I’m actually starting to feel the onset of a champagne hangover that I’d rather sleep through.”

  “Ye’re certain?”

  I nod. “I hope you know, kids are kind of my passion, and not in a million years would I ever dream of making any waves for you or that little girl, who is going to need you to show her that there is magic in everything that’s truly important, as long as you allow yourself to believe in its power.”

  “Harry Potter?” he asks.

  “I personally highly recommend the series to anyone who will listen.”

  “And this Outlander?”

  Laughing, I tell him, “Not even close to the same thing.”

  When he starts to remove items of clothing, tingles and the inopportune time for them to try to consume me, causes me to roll to my side, facing away from him.

  When he slips between the sheets, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me toward him, I take a bit of perverse pleasure in knowing that I’m not alone in the sad attraction when I feel his magic wand firmly poking me in the butt cheek.

  “Um …”

  “Ignore that, Elizabeth.” He kisses the back of my head and pulls me closer. “I’ve no control over the way my body reacts to yer closeness.”

  After at least fifteen minutes of attempting to ignore the harsh beating of my heart and listening to him try to control his own breaths, I decide that all of this evening’s chaos was caused by not listening to him or allowing myself even one sober moment to consider what he said last night.

  I lean against him as I lift my leg and hook it over the top of his. Then I reach between us and grab his firm, velvet erection, pressing it against my core.

  “Christ,” he groans with the elongated R rolling harshly as he grips my hip. “You sure about—”

  His jaw snaps shut when I arch my back and slowly take him in inch by inch.

  “Yes,” I cry softly as he impatiently thrusts fully into me.

  Piranha

  Lizzie

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

  I cringe as I grip the sides of my head to stop the pounding inside of it.

  “Who the fuck!”

  I groan when he unwraps his big, old heat blanket of a body from mine and pulls out.

  I look up at him, totally embarrassed at the uncontrollable sound that escaped my body, and he groans before saying, “Get yer ass back in that bed.”

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

  “My combination to the safe is underneath the utensils in my kitchen. Front door code is 1244.” He grabs his pants and pulls them up as I get up to watch him walk out of the door.

  “Why do I need those?” I call after him.

  “Bail money. The plea is temporary sanity.”

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

  Oh, dear, I think as I grab my robe and tie it around my body while making my way to the door.

  I hear the door fly open, and then a woman screaming. “I need my fucking keys, EJ!”

  “You also need to lower your goddammed voice,” he snaps.

  “Who is she?” she snaps.

  “Here’s yer keys. Now stop making a scene.”

  “These people know me! I lived in that house! I got you a great deal and—”

  “I appreciate ye doing yer job as a realtor. Ye should appreciate the fact I didn’t let ye get behind the wheel of yer vehicle and drive while intoxicated.”

  “That girl, that weird little girl, lived here. What was her name?”

  “Kenzie,” he hisses. “Take yer keys and leave us be.”

  “Lizzie the leopard!” She laughs haughtily.

  Mackenzie Kingston. Kenzie. How did I not recognize that horrible, vile creature on the yacht? Also, how did I not know I had that horrible nickname?

  The magic.

  “Ye speak of her one more time in that manner and all those connections ye gained last night will be gone in the blink of an eye.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Do ye not ken me at all, Kenzie? I say what I mean, and I mean what I say.”

  “Did you fuck her?”

  He doesn’t answer, and the budding badass in me wants to call down the stairs, Yep, twice last night! Yet I don’t because, let’s be honest, he did take her on that date and all.

  “Of course you didn’t. No condom, right?”

  What the hell? I think.

  “Ye’ve got five seconds to get yer ass off this porch and get yer car out of my drive.”

  “You’re joking, right?” she snaps.

  “Three … two—”

  “Don’t ever call me again!”

  “Hadn’t planned on it.” He shuts the door and looks up the stairs. “Ye all right, Elizabeth?”

  I nod, because I am okay as I start coming down the stairs.

  “Ye need a soak or —”

  Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

  “Ye’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  He throws the door open and she looks past him, directly at me, disgust twisting her face. “My Prada.” She continues to look up at me. “Not Frada—fake Prada. Real leather, not the rip-off.” She looks back at him and continues, “Said bag is in your house and the code isn’t the same as it was when I sent it to you the other day.”

  “For good reason,” he mumbles.

  “Just give it to me, and you can go back to your …” She lifts her chin in my direction. “Her.”

  The use of her makes me laugh out loud, and
she glares up at me.

  “You can dye it red and give it a little bit of silicone here and there, but you still can’t make someone like you pretty on the inside.”

  “You little—”

  “Ye watch yer tone with her or I swear to ye, Kenzie, I will—”

  “You will what?” she snaps.

  “Ethan, just walk her off my property, please.”

  “Of course.” He nods. “And she won’t be here again, or ye’ll call the cops.”

  “A waitress, EJ?” she snarls.

  “A teacher, actually,” I snarl back. “Now get her out of here or I won’t wait to see if she comes back.”

  He looks back at me curiously, and then a smile gradually grows on his face.

  “What?”

  “I’m proud of ye, Elizabeth Bloom.”

  “Oh my God, gross.”

  When he walks back in, I’m making French toast and bacon.

  “Ye all right?” he asks.

  “I’ve dealt with her and her kind most of my life.”

  He walks around the counter, takes the spoon out of my hand, turns me to face him, grabs my face, and then kisses me so sweetly and deeply that I’m glad I brushed my teeth.

  Stepping back, he looks at me in a way that could only be described as adoringly. It causes tears to build and my racing heart to feel a comfort it hasn’t felt in many years.

  “Was it the French toast?” I whisper.

  “Yeah.” He laughs, pulling me into a hug. “It sure was.”

  After a couple moments of being hugged the way in which he hugs me, I smell something … different.

  “Ethan?”

  “Elizabeth?”

  “I think I’m burning the bacon.”

  “I tried to talk him out of it, but—”

  “Why would you try to talk Doctor Delicious out of a date?”

  I want to laugh, but this situation calls for the utmost sincerity. “His daughter is coming to live with him tomorrow. I’m sure he has a lot to do.”

  “I’m sure he has it all under control.”

  Control … Yeah, he definitely has that.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t,” I admit.

  “Oh, babe, you like more than his penis.”