Some Like It Scot (Crescent Cove Book 1)

by Marlie May

  Dag, of course.

  Entering the conference room, I paused and gulped. Dag must’ve washed his Scottish attire because his white shirt gleamed. I needed to ignore how wonderful he looked in this outfit, or I’d be in deep trouble.

  Tote bag in hand, I dropped into the seat beside him. “Hi.”

  He looked up from his phone. His mussed hair suggested he’d recently run his fingers through it. “How’ve ye been, lass?”

  My heart sighed, because of that accent…It sent me over the edge.

  I struggled for normal. “Great. Working a lot at the diner. Running.”

  The slump of my shoulders might’ve given me away because he lifted my hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be up early tomorrow. Come by my place. I’ll run with you.”

  In a kilt? I was tempted to take him up on his offer, just to find out.

  Before I could reply, Esteban cleared his throat. “Okay, folks. Let’s get down to business. I thought we’d begin by reporting on our assignments.” He turned to me. “Did you make headway with the animals?”

  I explained about the petting area we planned, plus the greased pig event—leaving out our near-kiss.

  While I talked, Dag scrolled on his phone.

  What was he doing? This wasn’t the time to check his email or connect on Instagram.

  His phone beeped. Grunting, he flipped through some pages.

  The heady, buzzy-feeling I’d felt since yesterday faded, replaced by tightness in my chest. I’d thought…okay, I wasn’t sure what I’d thought. Maybe that he was as excited about working with the Foundation as I was. That he was taking this seriously.

  No, that he would be eager to see me. So much for that silly idea.

  Stiffening my backbone, I faced forward. Ignore him. Making sure everything was set for the Games was vital. Who cared if he didn’t feel the same?

  Esteban turned to the couple sitting beside him, who reported on food and clean-up. Then to Alice, who talked about volunteers.

  Meanwhile, Dag scrolled on his phone.

  The lump in my throat refused to go down. With a struggle, I focused on the meeting.

  “We bought ropes and cables for some of the events,” one woman said. “And Alice’s brother’s providing the cabers.” Which would be used for the log toss.

  “Excellent.” Esteban leaned back in his chair and scanned our faces. “Next, I’d love everyone’s opinion on safety measures for the heavy games.”

  Alice held up her hand. “I, for one, am worried about those logs. What if an inexperienced competitor flings one into the crowd? That could cause considerable damage, let alone hurt someone. They must weigh a ton.”

  “They don’t weigh a ton.” Esteban chuckled. “But you’ve raised an important point. We should consider installing…”

  The safety discussion continued, but I couldn’t stop peeking at Dag, who stared at his phone. Why was he doing this? The Games were important—something that could fulfill my dream of raising money for a wonderful cause. Yet all he seemed interested in was playing Sudoku.

  Irritation churned through my belly. Every time I thought I’d been mistaken about him, he switched gears and took the vehicle in the opposite direction, proving me right all over again. I shouldn’t care about this. About him.

  “You’re not listening.” My disappointment leaked into my voice.

  He glanced up. “Just a second.” After darting a glance at the others, he returned to his screen.

  My heart sank even further.

  Esteban cleared his throat. “A company in Lewiston will come on Thursday to erect tents. We don’t want anyone overheating in the—”

  Chimes sounded on Dag’s phone, and he winked at me.

  He wasn’t actually playing a game, was he?

  When I learned he was a Celtic expert, I thought his knowledge and expertise—no, his eagerness to participate in this fundraising event—could bridge his baggage. He’d lulled me, making me believe I could let him into my life.

  I hated that I’d weakened.

  At least I hadn’t agreed to do anything with him outside of our committee duties.

  Why wouldn’t the pinch in my chest go away? Pain took root, expanding in my belly. I blinked, determined to let it go. Distraction. I needed a distraction.

  “About that date,” I said.

  Lifting his attention from his phone, he widened his eyes. “A date?”

  “Not that date. It seems silly to bring this up again, but, at the last meeting, you said the Act of Proscription ended in 1780.” Heat rushed into my face. Why did I think I could lecture a Celtic expert about Scottish history? Solely with details I’d learned from a historical romance novel? But Bettina Cross always got her facts right.

  “So?” Dag said, not looking up from his phone.

  Spit it out. “As you probably remember, the British Parliament used the Act of Proscription to take away the Highlander’s ability to revolt and to crush the clan system after the Jacobite Rising in 1745.”

  Dag’s brow narrowed, and he tucked his phone away in his back pocket. “Where are you getting this information?” he asked.

  “From…an authentic resource.”

  His mouth curled up on one corner, and his voice grew husky. “I’ve never been wrong about anything.”

  He was this time.

  His gaze slid to my lips, and like I was chocolate set inside a sauna, I melted.

  Get a hold on yourself. “No one’s right all the time. The Act of Proscription ended in 1782.”

  Before he could speak, someone knocked on the door.

  Esteban lifted his gaze from the paper he’d been reading aloud from and looked around the room as if he expected someone to announce they’d ordered pizza.

  Dag grinned at Esteban and tapped our folder. “I’ll let you know if I see any issues. And a caber?” This was directed at Alice. “They’re one-hundred-and-fifty pounds, depending on the wood.”

  Wait. Had Dag been paying attention?

  Like a balloon unknotted and let loose in the air, I deflated. I narrowed my brows at him, but he missed the gesture because he’d directed his attention to the door Esteban was opening.

  A skinny teenager dressed as a court jester burst into the room, bells jangling on his wrists and ankles. His colorful tunic hung to mid-thigh, exposing shimmering tights. On his head, he’d cocked a purple, pink, and yellow hat that speared in multiple directions.

  Esteban’s jaw dropped as if he thought the circus had hit town. “Excuse me, but I think you’ve made a mistake. We’re conducting an important meeting here.”

  “I’m here for Lark Harpswell?” Jester’s eyes swept around the room before lighting on me. “My message can only be delivered to Lark Harpswell.”

  I slipped lower in my chair.

  “Sit up, lass,” Dag said. “I think ye might find this interesting.”

  “Do you know anything about this, Lark?” Utter confusion came through in Esteban’s voice, and he gaped like a trout flopping on the shore.

  I shrugged.

  Jester pranced around the room. He swept his arms out and bowed in front of me. “I’m your singing poem-gram, Ma’am.”

  “Singing…what?” Esteban blinked. “This makes no sense.”

  Jester reached behind his back and presented me with a solitary daisy. “From your secret admirer.”

  Dag snickered.

  Oh, jeez.

  Jester unfurled a scroll with gold tassels dangling from each end. He cleared his throat and sang out in a high-pitched voice, “When I stare into the dark, all I can think of is the Ark.”

  The Ark? I braced myself for an animal joke.

  Jester continued, “You. Me. Together in harmony. Go out with me, please, Lark.”

  My face would give my pink truck stiff competition. “I don’t know you,” I told Jester.

  “Oh, it’s not from me.” He straightened. “There’s a card.”

  Of course, there was.

  He handed it over
and then pranced from the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “Okay.” Esteban pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his brow. “If we can get back to our discussion.” He turned to the couple on his left. “Were you able to secure the Mason’s for the fried food booths?”

  While they talked, I opened the envelope.

  Dinner tonight? Dag.

  What was I going to do? My heart held out its arms to gather him in, but my brain insisted I needed to be cautious. How could I reconcile this without opening myself up to hurt?

  “Umm…” My no should be ringing out in the room.

  “Yes?” Dag whispered, the gleam in his eyes suggesting he might be open to a little more kissing to talk me into it.

  Heaven help me, but I was on board with kissing. “I—”

  “One final thing,” Esteban said. “We had a cancellation. The Blue Grass band we set up to play Saturday night ran into an issue. Their lead singer quit. I’m afraid this leaves us in quite a lurch.” His eyes scanned the group. “Anyone know of musicians who might be available on short notice?”

  “Okay, it’s a no. I get it,” Dag said to me. The gleam in his eyes faded, and he twisted in his seat to address the others. “I know a group who could step in. A few guys who work for my father’s construction company play in a string quartet.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Esteban said. “Can you let me know as soon as possible?”

  “Sure will.” Dag pulled a sheet of paper from our folder and made a note.

  Esteban’s smile took in the group. “And that wraps things up. Any questions?” When no one spoke, he stood. “Meeting adjourned. When I’m back in the office Monday, I’ll email each of you an overview of what we’ve discussed today, plus anything else I might’ve forgotten.”

  Alice and the couple scraped their chairs back and walked around the table to mingle by the door with Esteban before everyone departed.

  Dag rose. “I’ll see you around sometime?”

  Sadly, he’d dropped his Scottish accent. I missed it already.

  “The Games?” I said softly. Hurt leached through me, tightening in a noose around my indecision.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  My heart in my throat, I watched him walk slowly from the room.

  Dropping my head onto my arms I’d rested on the table, I sighed.

  What was I going to do? A tornado called Dag kept spinning around me, shoving himself deeper into my soul. Every time I came up with a reason I should stay away from him, he snatched it up and sent it whirling in another direction.

  Running with him had been near perfection. It had been fun pacing myself with someone who cared about the sport almost as much as I did. I’d enjoyed talking about books and movies and travel with Dag.

  Now, he’d given me a singing date invitation and a funny poem that made my pulse trip because he’d taken time to write it for me. I couldn’t remember when I’d had this much fun in my life.

  Ted would never have done anything like this.

  Ted.

  I groaned and rubbed my face.

  Paisley was right. Was I going to spend the rest of my life comparing every man I met with my useless ex?

  * * *

  Lenore mounted her mare and sent the beast racing across the pasture. A streak of pounding flesh and woman, they thundered toward the low stone wall. The forest—and all the secrets it contained—awaited her. Anticipation roared through her. Lenore leaned forward, shouting encouragement. The mare’s ears flicked back and forth, and her muscles bunched. They soared over a stone wall and continued up a hill, darting around boulders, eager for what lay ahead.

  Duncan. He’d been away, and she missed him. More than she’d ever thought possible.

  She followed a deer trail and eventually arrived at the cottage. Smoke drifted from the chimney, but the windows remained dark. Had he gotten her message or would she find someone other than him inside? Dismounting, she approached the door and swung it open.

  A god lay before her on the bed. The man she’d spent months dreaming about, longing for. Duncan rose and strode toward her. Completely naked.

  Her belly dropped to the floor along with her jaw.

  “Come to me,” he whispered, his hand extended.

  If he asked her for it, she’d give him the world.

  But all he wanted was her.

  * * *

  The next morning, after running for miles, I swung onto Dag’s road. I came to a halt three houses down from his.

  “Knock on his door,” I told myself. “See if he wants to finish your run with you. No harm with that.” He had invited me to stop by.

  My heart fluttered, a bird caught in a net. Much too fast and not solely from my run.

  I could leave him at his house after we ran with a simple goodbye. No need to go inside for water, let alone steamy make-out sessions in the kitchen.

  Dag emerged from the house and stood on the top step, looking toward me.

  The fact that I wanted to relax my guard with him stabbed fear through my belly. What if he hurt me?

  For a long time, he did nothing but stare as if he sensed my hesitation but was willing to give me the time I needed to come to a decision all on my own.

  Then he smiled, and something I couldn’t define shone through in his grin. It held out its hand as if I clung to a cliff and he was determined to keep me from falling.

  I could either reach out for that hand or push it away.

  “Take one step,” I whispered, giving myself a mental nudge. “It doesn’t have to be three.”

  Filling my lungs with air, I ran toward him, coming to a halt below his deck. “You ready to get some exercise?”

  His smile remained. “I’ll be ready in a second.” Turning, he paused with his hand on the doorknob, not looking back. “You’ll wait?”

  “Of course.” The words came out breathless, but my lack of wind had nothing to do with the fact that something inside me had shifted. Or that a load of bricks no longer sat on my heart.

  We stretched to warm up, and at my nod, we jogged down the road, turning onto a broad loop that would bring us back to his house after a couple miles. I eventually slowed to a walk. He’d maintained my pace, but I had an irresistible urge to talk to him.

  Before I could speak, he scrubbed his face with his palms, although the gesture didn’t stop the color from rising in his cheeks. “I can’t believe I messed up the date for the Act of Proscription. It’s embarrassing.”

  The fact that he could admit to being wrong only made him more appealing. Not that he needed to up his appeal-factor. “We all make mistakes.”

  “Not you. You seem so organized.” His voice deepened. “In control.”

  “In too much control, probably,” I whispered. Especially lately. “I mess up all the time.”

  He scoffed. “You’re like Wonder Woman. Leaping mountains. Brandishing a sword. Saving the world. What’s your kryptonite?”

  “That’s Superman.”

  “Decent deflection, but it’s not an answer. Give me one example of you messing up.”

  While my feet kept moving, taking me around a corner, my brain froze.

  He chuckled. “See? Can’t come up with anything, can you?”

  I laughed, but sharing secrets exposed me. “Once, I had to give a presentation in a business class. It was worth half our grade. I researched, made a PowerPoint, and then practiced forever.”

  “What happened?”

  “Silly me. To give myself more time, I signed up for the last day available.”

  “And?”

  “My computer died. My entire project?” I flicked my hand in the air. “Gone. With no time left to recreate the work.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I winged it.” Frustration filled me like it had that day. “But I only got a B.”

  “I feel for you, but that wasn’t a mess-up.”

  “It should’ve been an A.”

  He stared toward where the
cul-de-sac would loop us around and spill us back onto the main road. “Sometimes in life, Bs are better than As.”

  “When?”

  “When you learn from the experience.”

  The sour taint from that day filled my mouth all over again. “What’s to learn from my computer dying?”

  He tapped his temple. “That you already had what you needed in here. How many people could do a B-worthy presentation off the top of their head?”

  I hadn’t been aware of how stiffly I held my shoulders, but they relaxed now. He was right. I’d done well. Even the teacher had congratulated me.

  That moment had been a win.

  I studied Dag's profile. Just when I thought I’d figured him out, he showed unexpected depth as if the carefree person he displayed on the surface didn't sink all the way through. I was glad I'd met him, that we’d become friends.

  A big part of me wanted to take his hand and never let go, but the scared woman inside still told me to run. I compromised with a change of subject. “You said you’d gone to school in Scotland. Did you travel much while you were there?” I wanted to pepper him with questions. My Highlander novels had only whetted my appetite to travel to Scotland. Someday, I’d save up enough to go. At his nod, I asked, “What parts of the country did you see?”

  “Edinburgh Castle, Inverness, the Malt Whisky Trail, and the Macallan Distillery.” He ticked off places I’d only dreamed of visiting. “Loch Lomond, the most famous loch in Scotland. Dunvegan, Eilean Donan. The Isle of Skye and the Cuillin Mountains.”

  It was all I could do not to drool. “Anywhere else?”

  “Well, I spent a month in Loch Ness.”

  My eyes popped wide. “Do you believe the legend?”

  He chuckled. “Nessie exists.”

  I held my face still, savoring the way his ears pinkened. Actually, I loved learning about fantastical beings, too.

  I haunted the shoreline, my footsteps slow on the moss, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious monster. My breath ground to a halt as I stared at the loch.

  A ripple across the water!

  “She does exist,” he said in a defensive tone.