“A snack?”
“That’s why I came down in the first place. I’m stressed out, which means I don’t sleep well and the only thing that helps is comfort food. Are you in or out?”
“All in.”
“Grilled cheese is my go-to.” She bent over and pulled the electric griddle out of the bottom cabinet. When she turned, his gaze skittered away. Had he been staring at her butt? It made her very aware she was wearing a tank top and tiny shorts. She had an inkling that her nipples were up to no good, but was afraid to look down and draw even more attention to them.
“One or two?” she asked, holding the bread in front of her chest as camouflage. His stomach rumbled loud enough to make them both laugh awkwardly. “Two it is.”
“Dinner this evening was delicious, by the way. I’m not sure why I’m so famished.”
“It’s the stress. I can relate.” She gathered the cheese, mayonnaise, and butter from the fridge.
“How did the festival come about?” He sat on one of the barstools across the island from her, his stance casual, but his gaze following her every move.
“It was Daddy’s passion project. A way to draw tourists when the economics of small towns became untenable. After Daddy died, Mom and I took over. We make a good team.” Or had they made a good team? Was it ending?
Thoughts of beginnings and endings swirled in her head as she buttered bread and added cheese, not having to concentrate on the familiar task. The silence that gathered as she cooked was a surprisingly comfortable one. She flipped three grilled cheeses onto plates—two for him, one for her—poured two glasses of milk, and joined him on a neighboring stool. Her elbow jostled his and his knee bumped hers, but neither of them jerked away. His body heat was welcome in the cool of the air-conditioning.
He took a bite of his sandwich, let out a little moan, and closed his eyes. The first sandwich disappeared in seconds. “This beats room service at the best hotel in New York.”
Pleasure at his pleasure suffused her. Attraction vibrated the air like staticky radio waves not quite dialed in to a song she could distinguish. Oh, this was dangerous. Especially since she’d caught him in her office. Her sleep-fuzzed brain hadn’t moved fast enough at the time, but now she wondered and worried.
Before she could question him, he asked, “If the games are such a stressor, why not take a year or two off from hosting them? You could use your vacation traveling instead of working.”
“It’s not just Stonehaven that benefits from the festival. Most of the businesses in Highland count on the influx of visitors, and their money, to stay afloat. If we don’t hold the games, it would cause real hurt to people I care about in Highland.”
“You’re like a feudal lord,” he said.
She barked a laugh. “If only we could demand a tithe.” Brushing her fingers together and pushing her plate away, she propped her elbow on the counter and shifted to look at him, her head in her head. “Are you going to tell me about Rupert?”
He did the same, facing her. “Rupert is a numpty who wouldn’t stop talking about his mushroom, if you know what I mean. I told him if he didn’t shut his geggie, he would get a close-up of my bollocks.”
“Maybe you’re the numpty.” How could she not smile? “What is a numpty, anyway?”
“An idiot.”
Still smiling, she asked, “You know I don’t trust you, right?”
“I’m fully expecting to keel over from arsenic poisoning any minute. This may have been my last meal.”
“Finding you at my desk in the middle of the night literally trying to steal the silver is disturbing.” What if he’d done more than stuff Rupert in his pants? Her manuscript had been front and center. Plus, the folder detailing expenditures on Stonehaven. She couldn’t say which discovery by him would be worse.
“I promise I was in your office because I couldn’t sleep and had to return phone calls. That’s it.”
“And Rupert?”
“A misunderstanding. You startled me, and I stuck him in my pocket. It was reflex. Believe me, I don’t want Rupert or his mushroom anywhere near my pants. Anyway, haven’t I suffered enough?” He raised his large foot, the Snoopy Band-Aid incongruous yet charming.
“I suppose you have.” It scared her how much she wanted to believe him.
He straightened, rubbed his hands down his thighs, and half rose. “I have to find my mobile now.”
She dumped the plates in the sink and caught his arm halfway to the door. “No. We’re going to bed.”
His eyes widened and he leaned closer to her. So close, she could see the black of his pupils flare. It was only when he asked, “Are we, lass?” in a rumbly brogue that made her stomach flutter and her body scream an affirmative, did her bossy declaration register.
“Gah.” She inhaled, her throat dry and her tongue working hard to form words. “Not together. Separately. In different beds. And rooms.”
“Probably for the best.” He cast a glance toward the back door, worry shadowing his face. “But I need my mobile.”
“Call it. We can follow the ringing,” she said.
“It’s on vibrate.”
She retrieved a cordless phone. “Try it anyway. Maybe the screen will light up enough for us to find it.”
He punched in numbers as they made their way outside, then stood at the edge of the patio with the phone to his ear. “It should be ringing.”
She peered into the darkness, seeing nothing that resembled a phone lighting up and hearing nothing except for the call of crickets. “It’ll be easier to find in the morning.” When still he hesitated, she added. “Nothing will happen to it. A raccoon won’t rack up a bunch of phone sex charges. Surely even your crazy boss understands time zones. You need sleep.”
He heaved a sigh and handed her the cordless phone. “I am bone-tired and not in the mood to tramp through the field.”
She led the way inside, throwing glances behind her to assure herself he followed. Despite the explanations he gave, she couldn’t leave him downstairs on his own. It didn’t matter that he made her laugh and attraction buzzed between them, she couldn’t afford to trust him.
The “good nights” they exchanged were strangely formal considering the odd last half hour they’d spent together. She lay down on her bed, doing her best to stay awake in case Alasdair tried to slip out again, but sleep claimed her with a swiftness that was rare.
* * *
Izzy clutched Alasdair’s phone and stood in front of the connecting bathroom door to his room. With rain imminent, she’d spent a half hour searching the field, underestimating how far he’d thrown it. She realized she should have added distance based on the unexpected brawn of his arms in the T-shirt last night. Finally, black and silver had glinted through the grass and flowers. Unfortunately, the screen was a web of cracks, the LCD glitchy when she’d surreptitiously checked to see if it was password-protected.
No sound emerged to indicate he was awake. He would want the phone back as soon as possible. That’s the only reason she wasn’t waiting downstairs for him. It had nothing to do with his admission about sleeping naked. In fact, she hoped he wasn’t naked. Of course she did. She didn’t need the embarrassment of walking in and seeing him lying on his bed as naked as the day he was born. But bigger. Way bigger and way sexier.
She knocked, but heard no reply. There was her answer. She would go downstairs and wait. She made it two steps before she turned back around. What if he was sick? The cut on his foot could have turned septic. Or he could have fallen out of bed and hit his head on the nightstand. He might even need help but be unable to call for her.
Her hand found its way to the knob and turned it before a dissenting argument could be lodged. The door creaked open, and she popped her head through. The man-sized lump under the covers jump-started her lungs. Not hurt or naked.
“Alasdair,” she said softly. “Are you awake?”
She shuffled farther into the room until she stood next to the bed. He was curled on
his side, hugging a pillow. His dark hair was mussed and stubble darkened his jaw. Parts of her body she’d thought had died had apparently only gone into hibernation and were now roaring to life. Why with him? A temporary guest who may or may not be in Georgia to bilk them.
The small smile tipping the corner of his lips made her wonder at his dreams. Dark smudged his eyes. Was sleep his only escape from the crushing pressure that had driven him to hurl his phone into a field?
Intending to leave his phone on the nightstand, she pulled it from her back pocket, moving slowly so as not to disturb him. Alasdair bolted upright as if he’d exited the Land of Nod on a bullet train. Surprise had her fumbling his phone like a piece of wet soap. It hit him on the bridge of his nose.
With a groan, he covered his face with one hand and sprawled backward. “What in blazes did you hit me for?”
“I didn’t! At least, not intentionally.” She patted the folds of the quilt in search for the phone, her right hand landing on his thigh. It twitched, and she yanked her hand away. His phone peeked out of a fold near his crotch.
“Did you request a wake-up call?” Her tattered self-control kept her from making an embarrassing grab for the phone. “I found your phone in the field this morning. It’s right there near your…” She pointed.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he propped himself up on his elbow, retrieved the phone, and stared at the spiderweb of cracks. “It’s broken.”
“Probably hit a rock. I hope your nose hasn’t suffered the same fate.” He took his hand away from his face, and Izzy gasped. “Oh my God, your face!”
“That god-awful ugly, is it?” His attempt at a smile turned into a wince.
Without answering, she pulled out several tissues and held them to his nose, sitting on the side of his bed. “Dizzy Izzy strikes again. Lean your head back.”
He obeyed. “Dizzy Izzy? Have you been drinking already?”
“I wish I’d earned the nickname after a wild night out. Alas, it was from the seventh-graders who witnessed my cartwheels in gym class. I got off course and crashed into the wall. See, I still have the scar.” She held up her elbow.
He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and pulled her elbow closer for an examination. Her torso shifted to hover over his. His hand could almost circle her entire arm, which meant either she was exceptionally puny (she wasn’t) or his hand was unusually big. She swallowed hard trying not to do the math, equating his big hands with other body parts.
“It’s a wee thing.”
“It hurt like the dickens at the time.”
He let her go, and for a second her torso swayed closer to his chest before she caught her balance and pulled away. “That’s not all. Most of the town was in attendance when Mom made me dance in the festival when I was around eight. I fell off the stage.”
His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled over the tissues she held to his nose. “Sounds charming.”
“Uh-oh, you’ve got brain damage.”
This time he laughed and pushed himself up on the pillows. “Thank you for finding my mobile. What time is it?”
“Ten thirty.” The overcast skies had masked the sunrise. “A rainstorm blew through but it’s all clear now.”
His smile disappeared and he blinked. “Ten-thirty?”
She nodded. “I take it you don’t normally sleep in.”
“Never.”
“Not even when you travel overseas?”
“I’ve disciplined myself to adjust immediately. Mind over matter.”
“You were up in the middle of the night. You needed the sleep.”
“You were up in the middle of the night too,” he said almost accusingly.
“Yeah, but I know my terrible dreams and anxiety will end as soon as the festival is over. Yours seem constant. Why do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Stay at a job you hate?”
“I don’t hate it.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m up for a promotion. More responsibility and more money.”
Why did he sound as if he’d been tasked to drown puppies for a living? “Congrats?”
“My boss is a right bastard sometimes.” He stared at something over her shoulder, but it felt like he wanted to say more. She waited, but nothing else came.
She rose. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. I’m headed to town in a bit. If you want, I can drop you by Bubba’s Fix-it shop.”
“Can I trust a man named Bubba with my mobile?”
“If it settles your mind, his real name is Bocephus. His daddy was a big Hank Williams Jr fan. He can fix anything and everything.”
“I think I prefer Bubba.” He tossed the tissues in the can next to the bed. “How does it look?”
She propped her hands on her hips and examined him. His nose had stopped bleeding, but a red knot marred the bridge. With the dark stubble shading his jaw, he reminded her of a rakish highwayman. “You’ll live.”
His smile wasn’t practiced or fake. It drew faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes and conveyed enough warmth to kindle a fire in her belly. Her cheeks ached and she laid her palm on one to find she was smiling back. “Come on down whenever you’re ready.”
She didn’t stop to take the cold shower she needed, but made a beeline toward normalcy. Except, she came upon her mom and Gareth in the office canoodling in front of her mom’s computer. She almost turned around.
“What if you included a stock show and utilize this area?” Gareth used a pen to point on the zoomed-in satellite map of Stonehaven.
“That’s for parking,” her mother said with nary a flirtatious giggle.
“You could move parking across the lane. Here and here.” Gareth tapped his pen on the monitor.
Okay, not canoodling. They appeared to actually be working on the festival. Which was good, except it was supposed to be Izzy and her mom working together.
“What are you two discussing?” The defensiveness in Izzy’s voice was peevish.
Her mom tossed Gareth a look Izzy had seen her parents exchange on occasion when she had been an adolescent. “Options for expansion next year, darlin’. That’s all.”
Gareth straightened and cleared his throat. “I was telling your mother that authentic Highland festivals include a stock show. Highland cows and sheep mostly, but the bairns show off their chickens and bunnies and such. Blue ribbons are awarded. It makes for a grand time.”
“Having animals at the festival introduces a host of issues.”
“What sort of issues, dear?” Her mom swiveled in the office chair with an effortless grace.
“The poopy kind.”
“Excuse me?” Gareth looked confused.
“You know, feces. Excrement. Dung. Guano. Crap.”
Alasdair made the turn into the office just as the last word landed in the middle of the room. “Morning. Sounds like I’ve interrupted something interesting.”
Izzy closed her eyes. Of course, he would walk in when she was acting like a toddler forced to share a favorite toy. She needed to pull up her big-girl panties, not get them in a wad, and apply all other panty metaphors involving maturity as needed.
Izzy hoped her faked sunny smile saved the moment from descending into awkwardness. “Actually, a stock show might draw a new crowd. We’ve never tackled the logistics of animal trailers and runoff, but looking into what it would take is smart business planning.”
“I agree. What a good idea.” Her mom leaned over and planted a kiss on Gareth’s cheek.
“Can I talk to you for a sec, Mom?” Izzy dipped her chin toward the entry and left Gareth and Alasdair in the office, but within sight. Just in case.
“It really is a good idea, isn’t it, Izzy? A stock show?” Her mom was smiling and flushed with energy.
“Yeah, sure. Did you get Loretta’s deposit?”
“Oh no.” Her mom’s forehead crinkled. “I forgot. Gareth and I were—”
Izzy held up a hand. “I don’t need to know the specifics. Can you run by today?”
“Actually, Gareth and I have plans.” Her mom put on the puppy dog eyes that lulled people into thinking she was demure and beseeching when behind them, she was a bulldog. She clasped her hands under her chin. “Will you handle Loretta?”
Her mom was an expert at finagling money from reluctant or tight-fisted vendors without causing any hard feelings. She was also good at getting her way. Izzy felt herself caving.
“You know I’m not good at this sort of thing. She’ll probably withdraw from the festival entirely.” When Izzy got nervous, she couldn’t be held responsible for the things that came out of her mouth. Spreadsheets and budgets were easy for Izzy to manipulate and bend to her will—people were not.
“A couple of others have ignored my emails. Can I count on you to at least give them a follow-up call?” Izzy asked.
“Of course. As soon as Gareth and I get back from our hike. I’m taking him to Raven Cliff for a picnic.”
“Fun times.” For her mom and Gareth. Not for Izzy who felt like she was getting ready to take a test she hadn’t studied for. Dropping her voice, she asked, “Have you heard from the bank about the loan yet?”
“Nothing, but I heard Sterling left town for a family emergency.” Her mom expressed no worry about the loan they needed to replace the roof before winter. And, she was probably right. Stonehaven was a good investment for the bank. There was no reason to deny them. But, until she had the money in her account and the roofers booked, Izzy would worry. She trailed her mom back to the office.
Gareth said, “Alasdair has been to his share of Highland games and volunteered to brainstorm later.”
“Wonderful!” Her mom tucked her hand into the crook of Gareth’s arm. They only had eyes for each other, and a strange feeling of not belonging in her own home crept up Izzy’s neck.
“We’re headed to town then.” When Izzy’s announcement garnered nothing more than a slight wave and smile from her mom, she tucked a festival folder under her arm and turned to Alasdair. “Ready?”
He made a “ladies’ first” gesture and followed her. She stopped at the front door and took inventory. Her striped cotton skirt, scooped neck T-shirt, and flipflops might be standard wear during Highland summers, but she wasn’t exactly putting on a professional front to meet with Loretta.
A Highlander Walks into a Bar--A Highland, Georgia Novel Page 7