Some Like It Scot (Crescent Cove Book 1)

by Marlie May

  Ignore me.

  The last made my heart spasm the most.

  Tipping my head back, I leaned against the brick wall and closed my eyes. Air leaked from my lungs until nothing was left but an empty sack in my chest. My legs shook.

  Reality broadsided me.

  What was I doing? I had no right to feel jealous or irritated or even upset with Lark. We didn’t share a life any longer. She’d done nothing but love me and I’d…I’d thrown her away.

  After everything that happened, I needed to leave her alone. I’d hurt her, no denying that. The look on her face when I told her we needed to take a break…Every time I thought about it, it kicked me in the throat. At this rate, I’d never catch my breath.

  I’d die if I ever made that expression appear on her face again.

  “Leave her alone,” I whispered. “Let her live her life.”

  Without me.

  Ignoring the sting filling my eyes, I shoved off the wall and returned to my car. I sat in the heat for a long time, staring forward at nothing.

  Go home. Where no one waited.

  Deciding Roan would be good company, I drove out to Spicy Concoctions.

  “Dag,” Roan called out when I walked into the front tasting room. Roan tossed the rag he’d been using to wash the new countertops into a bucket and dried his hands on his jeans. Striding around the counter, he halted in front of me, his brow narrowing. “You look like your house burned, your cat died, and your best friend took off with your girlfriend. Which I would not even contemplate. But, in other words, horrible.”

  Pretty much summed up my life lately.

  “You okay?” Frowning, Roan gripped my shoulder. “I was only joking around.”

  My face must’ve given away the fact that I was nowhere near okay.

  Roan went around the counter and nudged his head toward the walk-in fridge. “Want a soda? Coffee? I’ve got a full pot in the back office.”

  I sat on a stool across the narrow island from him. “No, thanks.”

  My friend leaned forward to brace his arms on the surface. “Want to talk about what happened with Lark, then?”

  “Why do you think this is about her?”

  “I assume you two are having a rough time,” Roan said.

  It was more than a rough time. I was devastated. Might as well admit it to myself, if not the world.

  Removing the rag from the bucket, Roan wrung it out and wiped the already gleaming countertop. He’d finished replacing the pine with granite during the past week, and it looked great.

  “If you want to talk, I’m happy to listen.” His hand slowed. “‘Cause I know what it’s like to lose someone special.”

  “That woman you were with after graduation? The one you grew up with?”

  “Yup.”

  Why hadn’t I been here for my friend all these years, providing a shoulder for Roan to lean on? I’d been caught up in my life, my books, and my own needs, for too long. But I could start now. “If you want to talk about her, well, I’m happy to listen, too.”

  Roan’s chest lifted, and he released a heavy sigh. “I always wonder what might’ve happened if I’d…”

  I shifted on my stool. “What?”

  “Gone after her, I guess.” His lips twisted. “Doesn’t matter. She married her old boyfriend. Had a kid with him.”

  “And you didn’t fight for her.”

  “Nope.” Roan’s penetrating gaze met mine. “You going to make the same mistake?”

  Mistakes.

  They surrounded me.

  * * *

  Inside my kitchen, Scruff snarled like he’d been ignored for weeks. Opening a can of dead shark, I dumped the entire can into the bowl. “Live it up, bud.”

  I scratched the back of his neck as he attacked his prey, until he paused, tipped his head to the side, and snarled at me.

  “Yeah, love you, too.”

  While Scruff dug back in, I dragged my feet down the hall to my study. Scruff soon followed and curled up on the cushion to give himself a kitty spa treatment with his tongue.

  I sipped my water while my computer booted up, then opened my book. It was time to read through what I’d written the other night, add a few more scenes to connect everything together, and read the entire manuscript out loud. I’d promised my editor I’d send it the day after tomorrow, and I was cutting it close. Focusing on the task at hand, I zipped ahead to the material I’d written the night after Lark and I ended things.

  Ended things. I hated those words. They brought back all the pain I’d felt since I lost her.

  In this section, Lenore and Duncan had just kissed.

  “I love you, Duncan,” Lenore said against Duncan’s lips. “I love you.”

  His eyes moved away from hers. “I…I. I’m sorry, but it’s over.” Turning, Duncan strode across the tiny crofter’s cottage, his boots making heavy clunks on the rough wooden floor.

  Lenore collapsed against the wall, shuddering. “You’re breaking up with me?”

  Wait a sec. This was wrong. This was almost Lark’s words to me and mine to her.

  I read through again, and what I’d done fully hit me. Sagging back in my chair, I stared at the screen until the words blurred.

  In a flash, I became Lenore as her hopes and dreams of a future with Duncan faded to dust. Duncan had messed things up because he was mourning the loss of his father and had been afraid to trust his heart to another. He hadn’t been the man he needed to be for Lenore.

  She should be crying, screaming at him. Beating her fists on his chest. She should tell him she hated him, that he’d strung her along for too long, never trusting her enough to share his life with her.

  He’d never shared his soul.

  She’d told him she loved him, only to have him ignore the meaning in her words.

  Duncan was throwing Lenore away like I’d thrown away Lark.

  “Goodbye.” Lenore walked slowly from the cottage.

  This cottage was the only place where they could meet when they couldn’t bear to live another moment without seeing each other one last time.

  Duncan stared after her, his heart—

  Yes, his heart.

  My heart.

  His heart splitting into so many pieces he’d never put it back together again.

  Dropping my face into my hands, I groaned while my world disintegrated around me. I’d tossed aside the most important person in my life. Told her I wanted out, when, instead, I wanted it all. Whatever she’d give me. Exhaling deeply, I stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears, wondering how I could fix this. If I could fix this.

  Because it might be too late.

  If only I could gather Lark back into my life again. This time, I’d never let her go. Because I loved her. Needed her. Couldn’t spend another moment without her by my side.

  As I blinked at the computer screen and wiped my face, I thought of a way. It might not work, but I had to try.

  I started reading again, editing the entire time. Deleting scenes that no longer worked and replacing them with what I now knew would give my readers the ending they deserved. I put everything I had into it.

  No, I put all of myself into it.

  Duncan hadn’t wanted to hurt Lenore. Because, when he hurt her, he hurt himself. Just like I loved Lark, Duncan loved Lenore. More than his clan or the home left to him by his ancestors. More than his own life. The loss of his father had damaged his psyche so badly, he hadn’t dared trust another.

  Like me. I’d let my father’s actions and the pain Dad inflicted on our family control my behavior.

  If Lenore wasn’t a part of Duncan’s future, there was no future.

  Like me, without Lark.

  At the most vital scene in my book, I centered my fingers on the keyboard, determined to make this right.

  Duncan stormed through the cottage and slammed his fist into the wall. “She has no right to treat me this way.”

  But, wait. Duncan had no right to treat her this way. She’d given
him everything, and he’d thrown it away.

  Realizing the mistake he’d made, Duncan rushed from the cottage and leaped onto his horse. He rode after Lenore, the horse’s hooves thundering beneath him. His heart thundering inside his chest in an echoing rhythm.

  He caught up to her and slid to the ground, leaving the reins to fall free. Gathering himself, he ran after Lenore, who’d started to flee when she heard his horse drumming up behind her.

  Pulling her around to face him, Duncan dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry. I love you, Lenore. So verra, verra much. Please, dinnae leave me. I cannae live without you. We’ll make this work. We’ll be together.”

  Lenore’s hand paused before she stroked his cheek. Her fingers slid through his hair, unable to keep from touching it. Hope filled her face, a look more precious than gold. “Ahh, Duncan.”

  “I cannae live if ye are not a part of my life.” Duncan swallowed back his pain. “I love ye today. I’ll love ye tomorrow. I’ll love ye a thousand years from tomorrow and beyond.”

  She urged him to his feet and pressed herself against him. “Duncan, my love.”

  They kissed, sharing the love and emotion they’d been denied for far too long.

  When he lifted his head, Duncan made her a solemn vow. “Ne’er again will I push ye away. I love ye, Lenore.”

  I worked on my book all through the night and into the next day, pouring all of myself onto each page. Hoping it would be enough.

  Late Saturday afternoon, I finished and typed THE END. I wrote a quick email, attached the document, and sent it to my editor. She’d read through and send back suggestions, which I’d adopt because she knew her stuff. And then I’d publish my book.

  As for Lark…Only time would tell.

  I settled back in my chair, put my feet up on the side of my desk, and stared at the screen. Euphoria spread through me, that writer’s high that was much like the adrenalin rush I got after a good run.

  If only I could share this moment with the woman I loved.

  A shower was in my future, but I wasn’t done yet. There was still one more thing I had to do…

  Making sure there was enough paper, I sent my document to print. While the machine hummed, spitting out my heart, I stumbled down the hall to my bathroom.

  Along the way, I texted Paisley.

  Lark

  The night was mine.

  On a sudden whim, Paisley went to the movies with a college friend. She was spending the night at her friend’s place after that and would be back tomorrow.

  If only I could appreciate the joy of being all by myself, with no constraints on my time. No work until tomorrow.

  I’d even stopped by Jolene’s place and asked if she needed anything, and she’d shooed me away, stating she’d hired a high school kid already. I only grumbled a little, and my grumbles faded when she handed me a bag filled with cinnamon buns. Though my appetite had dropped off since…Well, since I’d become single, maybe I could spark it with a sticky, sweet treat.

  After nibbling on one, I went running in the rain. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning crackled in the distance. Pushing myself, I ran ten miles. Worn out and near dropping, I returned home and took a long shower.

  After pouring a glass of wine, I sat on the sofa and channel surfed. My mystery novel called to me. When I’d last read, the main character had fallen down a cliff, broken her leg, and was unable to crawl back out. She screamed until she was hoarse and was struggling to drag herself back up to the path.

  Someone knocked on the door. I turned off the TV and crossed the room to swing the door wide.

  Dag stood on the deck, rain furrowing down his face like tears.

  I drank him in because it had been a lifetime since I’d last seen him. Which was wrong. It had only been a week, and each second had been worse than the last.

  Why did seeing him shred me? As if we’d ended things this minute, I was once again macerated by the grief pouring through my body. When would I ever stop loving him?

  “I can’t talk to you yet,” I burst out. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to talk to him again. Only time would let me put this into perspective—if there was such a thing as perspective in a future without Dag.

  I’d barely stepped onto Paisley’s road to forgetfulness. I wasn’t ready to turn and smile at distant memories. That wouldn’t happen until I could look at Dag and not feel as if my insides weren’t a gaping mass of sorrow.

  “Do me a favor?” Dag asked.

  “I don’t…I…” How could he come here and ask me for anything? Didn’t he realize I still bled?

  “I get it.” Lines bleaker than a desert landscape covered his face. His breath hitched, and he scrubbed his face with his palm.

  If the world had handed me wishes from the day I was born, I might believe that I read something…maybe even…no, never that in his eyes.

  “I did this to us,” he said. “I messed things up. Hid things from you I should’ve shared. Hurt you. I was wrong and my mistakes kept piling on top of each other. Probably too many for anyone to forgive.”

  What could I say to that? His words stunned me.

  He took a big breath and shoved out the words. “I kept one other thing from you.”

  Another lie? It shouldn’t hurt that there was something else he hadn’t told me, but it did.

  Reaching underneath his jacket, he pulled out a manila folder and held it out to me. His hands trembled more than my knees. “We’ve both been hurt by things in our past. Things we struggled to put behind us. I let what happened with my dad and with others mold me.” He gulped. “With my words, my anger, I broke us.” He nudged the folder into my hands. “Read this. Please? All the way to the end. Maybe, just maybe it’ll…fuck.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked down the steps slower than Jolene did when her arthritis acted up.

  His taillights winked from the stop sign a short time later.

  The envelope crackled in my hand. I stared down at it until raindrops collected and skimmed along the surface to leach off the sides.

  Unsure what else to do, I returned inside and shut the door.

  This night might be a long one.

  I refilled my wine and sat on the sofa beside Cally. The dog’s silky fur yielded under my fingertips. With a soft sigh, she settled her chin on her paws and gazed up at me, blinking until sleep claimed her.

  The package called from where I’d thrown it onto the coffee table.

  Why should I look? Dag didn’t have anything to say that I wanted to hear. More lies would only make me feel worse. I should get up, throw the envelope away unopened, and then dig into my mystery. I needed to find out if that woman made it out of the gully alive.

  “Aww, shit.” Lifting the package, I dropped it on my lap. I flipped it over and tore through the seal, hoping nothing painful awaited me inside.

  What could it be? I upended the envelope and a bound document slipped out.

  The first page was blank, but the second read:

  LAST KISS OF THE HIGHLANDER

  by Dag Ross

  (Writing as Bettina Cross)

  “Wait. What?” I blinked as the realization rushed through me.

  Dag’s final untruth. He was the author of my favorite historical Highlander novels? That couldn’t be. Bettina Cross was old. No, she was young, with pointy glasses. Typing away in her apartment and…

  Of course. It made sense now. His degree in Celtic Studies. His knowledge about everything Scottish. How he made his money. And how he’d been able to afford that beautiful house on the coast.

  Shivers prickled my skin. To think he’d kept this a secret all this time, and now, he wanted me to know.

  It hurt to look at the document. Would this be just another trap that would spring at the end and make me suffer even more?

  I should stuff the document back inside the envelope and burn it unread. Or mail it back to Dag with a clipped message telling him to leave me a
lone.

  But I couldn’t. I yearned to lose myself in this final passage of Lenore and Duncan’s lives.

  I took a deep breath. Drank half my wine. And wiped my eyes.

  Flipping the first page, I started to read.

  At two a.m., I was still reading. I finished the epilogue just before dawn with tears streaming down my face.

  This book was sublime. Utter perfection. Everything I’d ever dreamed of for Duncan and Lenore.

  They’d finally found their happily ever after.

  With a soft smile, I flipped to the last page, expecting to find it blank, like the first. Instead, I found a dedication.

  For Lark,

  If I could,

  I’d give you a thousand wishes.

  And when they were spent,

  I’d give you a thousand more.

  —Dag

  I sniffed. No way could I hold this back.

  Leaning over Cally, I sobbed.

  Lark

  I pulled my tartan from the back of my closet, where I’d stuffed it away. I’d wanted to throw it in the trash, but hadn’t been able to.

  Wearing my Highland Games outfit, something Dag had given me, made sadness crowd through me all over again. But it also made me happy, because my sadness was filled with hope.

  Perhaps it was time for me to finally go home.

  Hopping into Petunia, I drove out the ocean access road, heading toward the point. I parked where Dag and I had each time we’d come here, back when our love had been more fleeting than I’d realized.

  If we were lucky, we could recapture it.

  Gravel crunched underneath my shoes, the sound chasing me beyond his empty house, to the cliffs, and down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I walked across the sand to face the sea. Pink and yellow beams shot into the sky as the sun crested the horizon, heralding a new day.

  A day with infinite promise.