Some Like It Scot (Crescent Cove Book 1)

by Marlie May

“We just started.”

  “We’ve been…running for days.”

  I snorted. “We’ve only run a mile.”

  If I was wise, I’d surge forward. Show him what I was made of. After all, I had a half marathon to train for. Instead, I dropped back to a walk. While my regular routine was toast for today, I could run tomorrow to make up for it. What was it with my urge to cater to this guy?

  I slanted him a glance. “You don’t actually run much, do you?”

  His throat wheezed. “What gave you…that idea?”

  I chuckled. Since he was still trying to locate his wind, I took the lead in the conversation. “What do you do when you’re not working as a handyman and…running?”

  “Oh, this and that.” He puffed for a few moments. “I read.”

  Something we shared. “What sort of books do you like?”

  “Mysteries, suspense. Romance.”

  “Romance?” Not what I expected from Dag. But then, I didn’t know him well, did I? “What kind of romance?”

  His gaze broke contact with mine and focused on the upcoming intersection. “All kinds.”

  Vague, but if he read a lot, he would’ve expanded into multiple genres, as I had. “I’m a fan of historical. Reading is a wonderful escape.”

  A car came up fast behind us. Dag tugged my arm, switching positions to take the inside. He cleared his throat as the vehicle surged past us. “Books take you places you might never go yourself.”

  “Yes,” I breathed out, strangely satisfied to find we had this, as well as our love of Scottish history, in common. Ted and I had never gone anywhere. He’d hated to travel, let alone read. “Thanks to books, I’ve been to Paris, Africa, Egypt, and a billion other places.”

  “Do you watch much TV? That’s a great way to see other parts of the world.”

  “Sometimes.”

  We talked about movies we’d seen, and he surprised me by sharing that he enjoyed foreign films.

  Another thing we shared. If we found many more, I’d start to like him.

  Actually, I did like him. But I was scared. Afraid of getting hurt again.

  “I’m nowhere as sophisticated as you,” I said slowly. “My biggest movie thrills lately are watching Disney with my sister.” I lived for the next animated release.

  “Nothing wrong with Disney. Aladdin and Hercules are my favorites.” Lifting his arms to shoulder height, he recreated Hercules’s muscle man pose. “Zero to hero.”

  “Good one. I love Mulan.”

  “So cool when she took on the boss Hun with a sword.”

  I peeked his way, enjoying the admiration gleaming on his face. “That was cool, wasn’t it?”

  After another mile, we looped around and headed back toward his house, talking the entire time.

  A few blocks out, I grinned and shot ahead of him. “Race you!”

  He growled. “You’re on.” The smack of his sneakers thudded the pavement behind me.

  The crisp air sang to my lungs, and my body responded to my demand to go faster. I beat him to his house, but he wasn’t that far behind. With his long legs and some training, he’d find his wind in no time.

  He stalled next to me and bent forward, bracing his hands on his knees. “Whew. Great…work out, huh?” Tilting his head, he glanced up at me.

  Damp hair curled on his brow, and a trickle of sweat glided down his temple. It continued past his chin to find its way underneath the neck of his tee. Did it keep going all the way down his chest? I wanted to use my fingertips to find out.

  Face cooking, I shoved off my disobedient thoughts. Touching had nothing to do with a dating hiatus.

  “Cool down time,” I said. Especially for me.

  “Come in for a drink of water?” he asked when we’d finished.

  “I should keep going.” Get away from Dag, actually.

  “You’re not running more this morning. One Olympic event is enough for today.”

  I lifted one eyebrow. “I just got started.” And I had miles left to go.

  “You must run this route often.” Stepping closer, he reached up and chased a bead of sweat with his fingertip down my arm. Goosebumps lifted in his wake. “You’re pretty dedicated, aren’t you?”

  Did he mean running? Or was he circling back to the dating game again? I chose to go with door number one. “I’m competing in a few road races this summer. Already did one in Boston in May.”

  He nodded. “Last thing I want to do is screw with your morning routine, but you’ve got time for a drink of water, don’t you?” His fingertip traced another sweat path down my neck, spreading fire along with his touch.

  Waving my hand near my face, I backed away from him. Otherwise, I might show him that reciprocation was fair play. Plenty of sweat drizzling down his body I could explore. “I guess I have time for a quick drink.”

  Fool. Going into his house would be the same as opening the door up to Ted all over again. No, Dag wasn’t Ted. He was…Well, I wasn’t quite sure, but he wasn’t like my ex.

  He scrubbed his face with his palms before nodding. “Great. Come inside and sit. You can tell me more about those marathons.”

  We walked up the path connecting his drive to his house.

  “Are you planning on hiring some cattle for this soon?” I asked, gaping around. Really. Would it hurt him to run the lawn mower every now and then?

  He tilted his head to study my face, but I kept it neutral. “Cattle for what?” His quickly narrowing brow told me he’d caught on. But rather than being put out, he revealed his even, white teeth and a growing twinkle in his eyes.

  It wasn’t that funny.

  But I couldn’t hold back my snicker.

  “I plan to mow the lawn later.” Moving ahead of me, he opened the front door. “After you.”

  I entered and stumbled to a halt inside. Someone had dropped a bomb and forgotten to send in the clean-up crew.

  He rushed forward and grabbed a pizza box off the floor and another off the sofa, tossing them behind the sofa. “I’ve, uh, got a trash bucket behind there.”

  My laughter burst out. Cocking my hand on my hip, I said, “Sure, you do.”

  He lifted a heap of clothing off the sofa and tossed it behind with the pizza boxes.

  “Let me guess. You’ve got a laundry hamper behind there, as well, right?”

  “Goodwill bin.” With his head, he pointed toward a door on the other side of the room. “My kitchen’s through there. Plenty of water in the kitchen.”

  He almost sounded desperate. But I’d already seen the worst.

  I hoped so, anyway.

  “You want to go ahead first?” I asked. “Make sure the way’s clear?”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Bending forward, I lifted a pair of boxers off the carpet with pinched fingers. Red with little white hearts. Naturally, I pictured him wearing them. Lounging across his bed. His finger curling my way.

  Find your brain, Lark.

  “You may want to make sure there are no surprises in the kitchen,” I pointed out.

  He snatched his boxers from me and tossed them with the other Goodwill donations. Yanking off his sweaty shirt, he balled it up and dunked it behind the sofa, too, leaving his uncharted skin well within my reach.

  Heaven, help me now.

  “Ah—” He inched toward the kitchen door. “I should take a quick look around before you venture further into my domain.”

  “Okay Mufasa, I’ll wait here for you.” Backing against a recliner, I perched on the arm. Wasn’t sure I dared sit. Not that it didn’t look clean, just cluttered. Did Dag ever vacuum?

  His departure was followed by clangs, thuds, and enough running water to fill an Olympic size swimming pool, giving me the feeling his kitchen was in no better shape than his living room.

  He was cute. Shit, was he ever cute. But none of this showed me he was anywhere near responsible.

  An enormous, rangy orange tiger cat strolled into the room from the hall and paused,
whiskers twitching as it stared my way. With a soft mew, he sauntered forward, his tail parting the air. He paused in front of me, gazing up with a look rivaling a well-fed cheetah’s. I dropped to my knees to give him a thorough rubdown. “Who are you, big fella?”

  His deep purr was my only reply. Leaving me, he sauntered to the kitchen door and nudged it open until it was wide enough he could squeeze through.

  “Scruff, old buddy.” Dag propped the door with his foot and leaned over to ruffle the cat’s fur as it passed. “Want to go outside, big guy?” They disappeared, and the back door banged.

  “Don’t go far!” A moment later, Dag returned to poke his head into the living room again.

  “You call your cat Scruff?” I asked.

  “If you’d seen him when I picked him out at the shelter, you’d know the name fits. He might be a bit rough around the edges, but he’s got a pure heart.” Nudging his head backward, toward the kitchen, he said, “I believe I’m ready to receive guests.”

  I followed him into the kitchen, where he filled two glasses with water and ice from the dispensers on the front of the fridge and handed me one.

  Crossing to his back door, I tucked the curtain aside. Scruff had flopped in the sun on the deck. “Why don’t we sit outside? The weather’s perfect.”

  Dag dropped onto one of his kitchen chairs. “I think the water will taste better here.”

  Unable to hold it back, I laughed, scattering the rest of my unsettled feelings. “More Goodwill donations outside?”

  His grin shouted rake. “A few.”

  Sitting, I took a long drink. Nice and cold. “Thanks. I really needed this.”

  Tipping his chair back, he propped his feet on a table rung and studied me. “By the way, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For kissing you at the Brew House the other night.”

  I frowned at my glass, my belly sinking. “You didn’t want to kiss me?”

  “I did.”

  “You just said you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t. I said I was sorry I did.”

  That made no sense. “I don’t get why you’re apologizing.”

  “Because I don’t want to think I offended you. Jumped ahead of things.”

  I couldn’t hold back my smirk. “Gallant of you.”

  He dipped forward in the best bow obtainable while seated. “That’s me, gallant.”

  “Maybe.” And maybe not. “You didn’t offend me.”

  His eyes honed in on my lips. “You saying you wanted me to kiss you, then?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you didn’t say you didn’t. Want me to kiss you, that is.”

  I sighed. What in the world did he expect me to say now? “It was a good kiss.”

  He blinked. “Just good?” Leaning forward, he slid a band of my hair off my face and tucked it behind my ear. His light touch sent shivers gliding through me in a good way. No, in a fantastic way.

  “Go out with me,” he whispered.

  I set my glass on the table between us. “I…I’ll be honest here.” I swallowed deeply. “I’d like to, but I can’t.”

  “Why not? You just said you wanted me to kiss you again.”

  “That’s a stretch. I said it was good.”

  “More than good.”

  Holding back my groan, I decided silence ruled over honesty. I lifted my glass and finished the water, and then crossed the room to set the glass in the sink. “It’s been nice talking with you.”

  He came up behind me and set his glass beside mine, then reached around me with his other hand for the faucet. Water crested the glass’s rim and splashed into the sink.

  Making no move to escape, I remained encased in his arms, savoring the feel of his body nestled against mine. A spark zipped through me, setting everything it touched aflame.

  “I admire what you do for the Foundation,” he said.

  Normal conversation, but from the way my body responded, he could’ve been whispering raw heat into the shell of my ear.

  “Like I told you, I do it for Paisley,” I said with a gulp.

  “How long since she found out she was sick?” he asked as if he hadn’t noticed he was essentially hugging me. Or that I’d eased away from the counter, eliminating the space between us.

  I didn’t want to tease, but I couldn’t resist him.

  The strain in my voice might give me away. “Five years.”

  “That’s a lot of marathons.” Shifting against me, his voice brushed my nape. “Have you raised much money?”

  My brain spun. What was the question again? Oh, yeah, money I’d raised. “About eight thousand dollars a year.”

  “Whoa.” His breath hissed out. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  I shrugged, wanting to turn and face him. No, wanting to see his expression when he spoke. Because I read no sarcasm in his voice, no disinterest in the topic, and no indication that he was saying all this because he thought it was what I wanted to hear.

  How long had it been since a guy had been willing to turn down the TV or set aside anything to give me his full attention when I spoke? Maybe never. Closing my eyes, I sighed about the temptation called Dag.

  “Can I do it with you?” he asked softly.

  Oh, God. Yes. Please. Heat flushed my body.

  “Wait.” My eyes snapped open, and I croaked out, “Do what?”

  He chuckled, and the vibration of his lips against my ear thrilled through me. “I was talking about running. I’m open to other interpretations of my words if you are, though.”

  I stared down at my fingertips, blanched white from gripping the laminate countertop. “I…I’m okay running with you, but I’m not sure about anything else.”

  His body shifted fully against mine, and his warmth brought out my quivers.

  “You sure you don’t want to do anything else?” While my eyes fell to half-mast, he snagged that stray collection of hair and tucked it behind my ear again. His fingertips trailed down my neck to the sensitive spot where it met my shoulder. “Lark?”

  “I’m…I don’t know.” My voice broke. Closing my eyes, I melted into him. A mix of sun-kissed skin, soap, and fresh air filled my senses. I could float away on his scent.

  “Would it change your mind if I did this?” Shifting my ponytail to the side, he brushed his lips along the crest of my neck.

  I paused to swallow, but my throat had closed off with lust. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to seduce you, Lark. Is it working?”

  Curses, but I couldn’t stop the words. “I’m not sure. Perhaps you need to try a little harder.”

  “I can do harder.” Easing me around to face him, Dag wrapped me in his arms. “I’m thinking you want me to kiss you again.” He nudged me against the counter. “Don’t you, Lark?”

  “I…this is a bad idea.” Why couldn’t I catch my breath? I’d run, but I should still have plenty of air left. “I…I.” Aww, hell, I couldn’t unscramble my brain long enough to think, let alone form words.

  “I’m reading uncertainty here. What if I did this?” His fingertips slid my tank strap to the side. Lowering his head, he trailed his tongue from my collarbone to my hairline. His teeth nibbled my earlobe. “Damn, woman, you smell fantastic. I want to taste every inch of you.”

  Resisting him was nearly impossible. I was surrounded by a half-naked hot guy. All I had to do was haul down his shorts, and…

  My body shouted screw the guy, but my heart refused to have anything to do with it.

  I needed to remember my vow, how hurt I was when Ted took advantage of me.

  But I could barely think. With knees made of rubber, I wasn’t sure where I found the strength to keep my voice steady. I wanted to collapse onto the floor. Shed my clothing. And pull Dag down on top of me. “Still not going out with you.”

  Why had my words come out as a challenge? I didn’t want him to keep trying, did I?

  Humor lit his eyes as if I’d
spoken my thoughts out loud. “Guess I need to up my game, then don’t I?”

  Was that even possible?

  My expression must’ve suggested I’d bought a t-shirt emblazoned with Team Dag because an unholy certainty blazed in his eyes. “Maybe this will help you reconsider?”

  His mouth captured mine, pressing deep. His tongue glided across my lips and demanded entry. He teased and stroked, enhancing my pleasure.

  I clutched his shoulders, and whimpers rose in my throat.

  Lifting his head, he gazed at me through pupils so dilated, they swallowed me whole. “I believe I’m getting closer.” His words came out rough as if he was as shaken by our kiss as I was.

  “Yes…” I whispered, unable to deny that he brought out something inside me no one else ever had. If only I could dissolve into him, press my swollen lips against his, and caress his body. I bit down on my lower lip, and he groaned before kissing me again.

  Arching against him, I let go of my restraint and ran my hands across his shoulders. Down his chest. Along his pecs. I clung to him, moaning.

  He lifted his head. “That moan again.” Eyes closed, he pressed his forehead against mine as if he needed to close himself off while he regained control. “Okay. Enough of that.” Unlinking my arms from around his neck, he stepped out of my embrace. “You said you don’t want to go out with me, and I’ll respect that.” He leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms on his chest.

  What sort of trick was he playing now? Here I was, ready to tug him down the hall to seek his bedroom, and he was switching tactics mid-seduction.

  Flustered, I rushed across the room. I braced my hand on the wall by the doorjamb as if I needed support from the sturdy structure to keep from falling. “Thank you for the water.”

  Way to come out neutral. But I had to regroup. Figure out what was happening here. Decide if I dared trust a man again.

  “When you running next?” he asked gruffly.

  “I’m not sure.” I shoved open the door. “I’ve got to go.” I really needed to go.

  “Run, you mean.”

  “Yes, run.”

  “Not from me, I hope.”

  Dag

  Kissing Lark was like boarding a rocket bound for outer space. Hold on tight. Keep your eyes wide open. Then sit back and enjoy the thrill of the ride, and pray you don’t run out of fuel before you get there.