Scandalous Scotsman: A Hero Club Novel

by MJ Fields

  “She will not shut up about this guy that she thinks is totally hot and all sorts of swoon-worthy.”

  “Is that even a thing?”

  She grins. “Oh, yeah, it is.”

  “Interesting.” I squat down beside her car. “Also, interesting, you’ll need to unblock me so that I can text if I get antsy about Kai being gone.”

  “Oh. Oh, so that’s a thing?” She nods, looking for her phone.

  When she’s finished unblocking me, I snatch it away from her and stand.

  “Hey!” She laughs. “I swear I …”

  She stops talking when I pull out the waistband of my shorts and take a picture.

  “What are you doing?” She laughs.

  “Never sent ye one, and I’m feeling like ye need to remember what ye’re missing out on and what’s missing ye. Might entice ye one of these nights to cross the road, use the code, head up the stairs, open the door on the very end, and …” I stop rambling as I inquisitively scroll through her recent pictures and see one that shocks me. “Well, fuck.”

  She leans out. “What? Bad angle?”

  “No. Interesting, though.” I turn the phone toward her to show her.

  She gasps. “Give me that thing!”

  “Care to explain?”

  “No, not at all.” She snatches the phone, and I can’t help laughing.

  “Still need an explanation as to what those two bananas, one with the foreskin— I mean, the peel— missing at the top is all about.”

  She swats at me playfully through the window, and I catch her hand, squat down again, and hold it to my face. Turning into it, I kiss her palm, watching her face as her eyes darken.

  When she rubs my cheek with her thumb, I close my eyes.

  “You’re an amazing father, Ethan James Stewart,” she whispers.

  I open my eyes and sigh. “Doing the best I can.”

  “You’re doing it very well.”

  “She has to go to her grandparents’ tonight, and I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind. Every day she seems better and better. I really hope there are no setbacks.”

  “I can tell when my students are transitioning from one home to another at first, but after a few months, it becomes routine. The easier it is for you, the easier it will be for her.”

  “Ye’ve been a teacher all of two weeks, and ye can see that already?”

  “I was a long-term sub last year for Mrs. Kennedy, the woman whose position I filled.”

  “I hate that I have to share that time with them when they made me fight for every fucking minute.”

  “Daddy!”

  Elizabeth pulls her hand back, and I stand up and see her standing on the sidewalk across the road. Even though there isn’t anything coming, I want her instinct to be to check it out. “Look both ways, Kai. Twice, okay?”

  I watch her as she does it.

  “Nothing coming.”

  “One more time.”

  She does it one more time.

  “Okay.”

  I sent Elizabeth a message and asked that she and Kai meet me for lunch after yoga, and she did.

  Kai still isn’t chatty in public, but she sure does make up for it at home. However, when her grandparents showed up, she immediately went to whisper mode.

  When they pulled away, she watched me out the window of their car as I stood there, waving. Not sure how long it was, but Elizabeth pulled into her driveway and started unloading groceries.

  She waved to me and smiled. I nodded, and then she waved me over.

  I grab the two bags still in her trunk and walk into her kitchen.

  “I didn’t wave you over to carry groceries. I thought I passed a car with Kai. Or, at least I think it was Kai, because she waved to me.”

  Sighing, I set the bags down and run my fingers through my hair. “They didn’t even ask me how her first two weeks of school were.”

  “Maybe they have more faith in you than you know.”

  “Or maybe the cruise they took the day after she moved in and returned from yesterday is over, and they want to make my life hell.”

  “I saw the custody paperwork in her file.”

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  She looks over her shoulder at me. “Does that bother you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Good, because from what I saw, you have no need to worry. And aside from the first day accident, she’s done extraordinarily well. They have no reason to take you back to court, Ethan.” She closes the fridge and laughs. “And you have the whole school behind you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh my God, even our principal thinks you’re hot.”

  “Mr. Tucker?” I ask.

  “Not gay.” She laughs. “Just knows a good-looking man when he sees one.”

  “Does this non-gay principal check out the hot women teachers, too?”

  She looks up from the bag she’s rummaging through. “No. Why?”

  “Just curious if he’s overstepping with Kai’s favorite teacher. I’d definitely have a problem with that.”

  “He’s a nice guy.”

  “Ye’ve mentioned that a couple times now. The principal, Tonya, the whole school, apparently. None of whom I’m concerned with. I’d much rather hear what ye think of me.”

  She shakes her head as she turns to put the Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer, and I take the opportunity to check out her ass.

  “I think you know how I feel,” she says quietly.

  “Do me a favor and leave the chocolate therapy out.”

  She turns and looks at me. “Really?”

  I walk around the counter. “Most definitely.”

  I don’t stop when I’ve passed the twelve-inch separation we’ve kept for the betterment of two weeks.

  When my body presses against hers, she breathes out my name. I take her hands and hold them above her head against the closed refrigerator and lean down slowly, holding her wide eyes with mine. Then I brush my lips across hers and press my hardening cock against her. “Dinner. My place. Half an hour.” I release her hands, cup her face, kiss her forehead, and then turn around. From over my shoulder, I tell her, “Bring the ice cream.”

  “Most definitely.” She smiles.

  Fuck yes.

  Standing on the back patio, wine chilling, steaks grilling, music playing low on the outdoor surround sound, pool lights on, hot tub bubbling, back lights off, because the play area makes me miss Kai, my a sheòid.

  “Hey.”

  I look over my shoulder and see Elizabeth walking through the gate. I hold my hand out, and she takes it.

  “I left the front door open for ye.”

  “I heard music and figured you were out here.”

  I kiss her cheek, knowing if my lips touch hers, we won’t be eating. Well, I would be, but that’s beside the point.

  “Let’s go lock the door. I can show ye our house.”

  “Where’s Maryanne?”

  “She’s off until Monday.”

  She slows down a bit, and I look back.

  “Are ye afraid to be alone with me here?”

  “Of course not,” she huffs.

  I would call bullshit, but that’s not the way to start out the evening, not if I want to ensure it doesn’t end until … My train of thought hits a wall once she walks inside.

  “This place is huge.”

  “It’s sufficient.”

  “For what?” She laughs. “A family of twenty?”

  “I was thinking four, so that they always had someone to pair up with.”

  She blinks her eyes a few times at me. “You want four kids?”

  “Three more, yes. Why? How many do ye want, Elizabeth?”

  “I never really gave it much thought, but as you know through the text messages, it may not be possible.”

  “Have ye seen a doctor about that?”

  She shakes her head and continues to look around as we walk to the front door. “No.”

  “Then don’t assume
you can’t, m’eudail. But as a doctor myself, and having been inside ye, everything seemed perfect. Better than perfect, actually.”

  She shakes her head as she smiles.

  “I’d offer to give ye a more thorough exam, but I wouldn’t want to burn the steak.”

  “That’s awfully kind of you, Dr. Stewart.”

  “No trouble at all. Trust me; it wouldn’t just be yer pleasure, it would be mine.”

  Still Friday

  Lizzie

  Ethan has two chairs by the built-in outdoor kitchen. “Have a seat. Let me flip the steaks and grab ye a glass of wine.”

  “I can help. Just tell me what to do.”

  “Sit. Let me, please.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Elizabeth, never in my life did I dream of anything but being the best. First in class, best on the field.” He opens the grill and flips the steak as he continues talking. “Then in the OR. Kai came along, and I’d no idea what to do, but I kent I needed to be the best father, as well.”

  He walks over and grabs the bottle of wine out of a wine cooler and pours me a glass then one for himself. He hands me the glass and sits in the chair in front of me. “As I said, her mother and I were never in love. I just kent I had to do the best I could by her.”

  “Never?” I ask, because it shocks me.

  “She became my best friend, I suppose, but the word love never passed between us.”

  “Had you ever been in love before?”

  He forces a laugh and shakes his head. “Never.”

  “Longest relationship?”

  “Five years,” he says as he sets his glass on the small wood and stone table beside him then reaches down and lifts my booted foot. “Kai’s mother.”

  “Not even in high school?”

  Undoing the Velcro, he shakes his head again. “Wasn’t time.”

  “Ethan,” I sigh.

  He drops the boot on the ground and rubs my ankle. “I ken the importance of heartbreak. And trust me when I tell ye that I’ve had my fill.”

  He presses against the spot where my break was. “Does this hurt?”

  “No.”

  He smiles and moves his hand up. “Here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I’d say ye could stop wearing the boot.”

  “I’m healed?”

  “Ye’re perfect.”

  And you make me feel that way.

  I smile over my glass of wine, and he shakes his head as he continues rubbing my leg.

  “I don’t want to be the best at everything anymore; only those things that are important.”

  “Like being a father,” I state. “You’re killing it.”

  “I don’t want to open old wounds, but it was yer messages that made me realize how badly I needed to change so that, someday, Kai could send me text messages. So that, even after I’m gone, she will ken love and not just avoid its effects. I never had anyone tell me how to grieve, so I didn’t. And I never kent anyone who could write the things ye did, to feel as deeply as ye do, and to still find the strength to give a damn about the things that truly matter the most. Ye inspired me. Ye changed me. Ye made me want to be the best at being a father.”

  “You’re going to make me cry,” I whisper.

  “Please don’t. It makes my chest ache.”

  He leans back, holding my foot to his chest, and looks up at the sky, slowly exhaling.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Aye.”

  I begin to pull my foot away because I want to get up to hug him, to touch him, but he holds it still. Then, with his free hand, he reaches in his pocket and pulls out another little black box.

  Leaning forward, he hands it to me. “Open it.”

  When I open it, there’s another charm inside. It’s a magician’s top hat with a bunny sticking its head out.

  “This is—”

  “Yer gift is proving to an unbeliever that there’s magic in everyone.” He opens his hand and lifts a silver curb chain out of it, then fastens it around my ankle. “Ye’ve done that for me, too, Elizabeth Bloom.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing. Just be here with me.” He holds his hand out for the new charm. “Allow me.” After he clips the charm on the anklet, he gets up, leans over, and kisses the top of my head. Then he straightens and holds his hand out. “Let’s test out how it feels without the boot. Dance with me?”

  “Here?”

  “We’ve all the elements, Elizabeth— you, me, music … Am I missing something?”

  My two left feet.

  I smile at the thought.

  “What is it?”

  “I should warn you that I’m more a dance in a group kind of girl, and I tend to get lost in the moment.”

  “I quite enjoy being witness to the aftermath singular activities, but more enjoy being party to them.”

  “There’s also the two left feet issue.”

  His beautiful lips twitch as he reaches out and pulls me up. Then he grabs a small remote on the table next to the wine and raises the volume. “And here I was thinking it was the song.”

  When I realize the song is “Issues” by Julia Michaels, I laugh as he grips my hips and pulls me against his hot, warm body. I melt into him, and everything becomes fluid. Hands skimming, body swaying, lips touching but only briefly, all in a manner meant to entice, to turn tingles to quakes, a prelude to orgasm.

  When the song ends, I run my hands up his chest, his neck, and into his hair. I push up on my toes to get to his mouth.

  He skims his hands up my back, follows the line of my arms, grips my hands, and pulls them free from the silky waves. His fingers link in mine as he dips to kiss then lick and nip my neck as the next song plays.

  “Ethan,” I whimper.

  “We have all night,” he whispers in my ear.

  He’s a tease.

  But he’s so damn good at it.

  The next song ends, and I swear I can feel my heart beating its escape.

  When another begins, I know it immediately. Not gonna lie, it’s one I listen to often and has made me stupid giddy thinking of its possibilities to someone in a situation that surely isn’t mine.

  Oddly, I never knew what “this” actually was … a fantasy? A dream? Something unreachable and unattainable? I just knew it leant hope to the brokenhearted. I never had a clear answer or what my “this” was … until right now.

  “Fuck,” he hisses when I raise my leg and grind against him shamelessly.

  Nudging my face with his, he then pulls back. The heat in his eyes no doubt mirrors mine. Then annoyance crosses his stunning features.

  “I think the steaks are done. Would ye mind going in our kitchen and grabbing the salad?”

  Before I can answer, he steps back, shaking his head and sputtering under his breath while adjusting himself as he turns around to face the grill.

  I walk to him and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his back and inhaling his scent. His hand covers mine, and he exhales.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be right here waiting, m’eudail!”

  Upon entering the house, I laugh at the songs playing one after another, “Issues” by Julia Michaels, “Something Just Like This” by The Chainsmokers, and now “I’ll Make It Up To You” by Imagine Dragons.

  Magic.

  Or he made a playlist.

  Either way, it’s perfect.

  Inside his kitchen, I open the double door, industrial-sized stainless steel refrigerator and almost laugh when I see how neat and extremely organized it is. I grab the frosted glass bowl containing the salad, which is extremely colorful, then do a quick scan of the kitchen as I head back. From the perfectly piled matching plates behind the glass windows of his cabinets, to the way the soap and sponge sit on a tray, not on the counter, to the near-wax looking fruit on the island, everything is picture-perfect.

  For a brief moment, I compare my lifestyle to his and laugh at th
e contrast. I would be the blue to his yellow.

  As I walk back into the massive living room with comfortable enough matching deep brown furniture that shines even under the dimmed recess lighting, I realize there isn’t a television.

  “Huh.” I think as I reach the French doors to open it, but he beats me to it.

  “Everything all right?”

  “Your home is like a magazine.”

  He takes the salad from me then takes my hand. “Is that a bad thing?”

  I can’t help laughing. “It must be like walking into a storm when you come to my house.”

  “Yer house is perfect and tells a story.”

  “What story does it tell?” I laugh.

  He pulls out one of the chairs from the outdoor dining set for me, and I smile when I see the wine bottle that I abandoned on the most amazing date of my life sitting in the center with a lit candle inside its mouth.

  He sits down and peels the silicone top off the bowl. “It says two people loved enough to create a heart that would one day grow into a beautiful young woman meant to love as deeply. It says, even past their life, she’d feel their love enough that she dared not disturb the memory of them by sleeping in their bed—”

  “Just more comfortable in mine.” I shrug as he plates my salad.

  “That may be true, but ye fell down the stairs, flashed a very grateful stranger a tit, cursed like a sailor, and I’m going to guess ye slept on the couch instead of their bed.”

  “What would make you think that?” I laugh as I take a bite of my salad.

  Smirking, he answers, “Caught ye red-handed, red-faced, and nearly bare-assed getting yerself off to a voice like mine.”

  I cover my mouth and laugh like I haven’t laughed with anyone, besides Tonya, in years.

  The way he looks at me is the same as he had a few weeks ago— with adoration.

  I’m falling deeper.

  And I don’t care.

  “Ye won’t deny it?”

  “Not very ladylike, I suppose.” I take a sip of the wine.

  “I’ve seen many sides of ye, Elizabeth Bloom, not one of which I haven’t craved.”

  “I get how a man can enjoy a morning tit shot, but let’s stick to being honest here. The day I came to your office, that pair of underwear I was rocking were definitely not—”