“Does Rory happen to be a tour guide?” I ask, and he raises an eyebrow at me. He wipes the top of the bar top; his freckled forearms are littered with veins and his muscles flex with the motion.
I take another sip of the liquor, willing myself not to puke.
“Aye, he’s one in the same, but he’s a better singer than a tour guide. If you’re looking for a more reputable company, I have a better recommendation.”
“Would that be Lain’s Highland Tours?” I ask, and he smiles. His teeth are white, not perfectly straight, but his smile is charming and real.
“Ah, you’re the roadside American damsel, Maisie,” he says and I groan, putting an elbow on the table and holding up my cheek.
“This town is smaller than I thought,” I say and the bartender shakes his head.
“Lain is pack is all. I’m Greer,” he says, holding out his hand, and I shake it. His calloused fingers engulf my small hand as we shake.
I swear to God he tries to bring his hand up to his nose to see if he can scent me, but there isn’t a chance of that. I use deodorizers like a lifeline. He can’t scent me and I can’t scent him. It’s the way I like it.
“Greer as in Greer’s?” I ask.
“Aye, this is my place.”
“Hmm, you Alphas sure do like putting your mark on things,” I say, and I take a hefty gulp of my whisky after. Why the fuck did I say that?
“You’re not wrong,” he agrees. “So, you’re traveling here with your sister?”
So Lain gave him a complete rundown of everything that happened.Interesting.
“Yeah. It was our mom’s last wish before she passed. She wanted us to experience the beauty of the place where she grew up. She wanted me and my sister to do it together,” I say, taking a heavy swig of the liquor.
“Where’s your sister then?”
“Great question. Probably having a great time without me, finding the beauty in everything she sees, making friends in the most unlikely of places.”
He leans against the other side of the bar, ignoring his two other guests as he looks at me intently.
“And you’re not with her, because?”
I throw back the rest of the whisky and slide the glass back.
“Going to need another round, actually,” I say, avoiding his question completely.
I’m not proud of how many drinks I’ve had, but I also feel light, not a care in the world as I hold my glass and sway in my seat to the song Rory is singing.
Don’t understand a single fucking word, and I don’t know if it’s because it’s in Gaelic, his accent, or I’m just a little too sauced to understand the words.
“Let’s get some food in you,” Greer, the handsome, red-headed Alpha, says.
I smile at him. He’s so good looking, and big, and he’s been so nice to me.
“Have you ever seen Outlander?” I ask him dreamily.
I think he curses, and holds a menu out in front of me.
“Do you have any allergies?”
“Fun, time off, lack of control, being a good sister,” I reply, giving him a conspicuous frowny face and he scrubs a hand over his beard. “Can I have another?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. I knew you were a wee thing, but I didn’t think you’d get this blattered after a few drams. Eat something. On the house. What can I get you?”
I stare down at the menu, taking my glasses off, putting them on again.
