And it had made me lose sleep more often than I’d like to admit.
Pretty Agnes with the soulful eyes and whip-smart brain. She kept me on my toes, and the memory of her kiss had warmed me on more than one lonely night. She was both siren and sentinel, luring me forward and pushing me back.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d go to Bonnie Books with her favorite tea, and I’d ask her to dinner. A real dinner. A date.
And if she said no?
Then I’d ask again in a different way. Or at the very least, finally get her to be honest with me about what was really stopping her, or if she’d finally run out of excuses.
I was done being passive. Done waiting for her to come to me. Done accepting a holding pattern that was slowly killing us both. Either way, I deserved answers. Real answers. Not just these half-arsed explanations she’d used through the years to push me away. Because Lachlan was right, we did know Agnes. And Agnes never did anything half-arsed. Something wasn’t adding up here.
Aye, I’d flirted with other lasses over the years, and aye, I had noticed her annoyance at that.If she wasn’t in love with me, would she not have reacted? Would she have simply laughed and rolled her eyes?What if I hadn’t misread her looks, her lingering touches on my arms, and the occasionalflirtation? We’d maintained our friendship—as she’d hoped—but had shewantedmore even if she hadn’taskedfor more? She wouldn’t be sitting at my bar every other day if she didn’t still wish for something, would she?
I just had to hope that whatever Agnes was so afraid of, we could face it together.
CHAPTER SIX
GRAHAM
Istood outside Bonnie Books for a full three minutes like an absolute numpty, holding a paper bag with the fancy tea and almost talking myself out of leaving at least four times.
This was ridiculous. I was a grown man. I owned a successful business. I’d faced down drunk tourists, Kelpies rising from the loch, and once a very confused sheep that had somehow wandered into the pub during a wee wedding reception.
I could ask a woman to dinner.
Bloody hell, I was well known for asking women to dinner.
But this was Agnes.Thewoman.
The oneto rule them all.
I rolled my eyes at my Tolkien reference. I’d been re-watching the movies lately when I was struggling to sleep.
Through the window, Agnes stood behind the counter, her auburn curls escaping whatever clip she’d used to pin them back, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she frowned at something on her laptop. She was wearing a cream-colored jumper that looked soft enough to sleep in, and paint-streaked jeans that told me she’d been in the pottery studio this morning.
She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. And I was standing on the pavement like a lovesick teenager instead of actually going inside.
“Get it together, Kincaid,” I muttered, and pushed through the door.
The bell chimed and Agnes looked up, her expression shifting through several emotions in rapid succession—surprise, warmth, wariness, and something that looked almost like hope before she shuttered it away. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted to believe. Either way, she seemed less than thrilled to see me, which wasn’t exactly the welcome I was hoping for.
“Graham.” She straightened, pulling off her glasses. “Bit early for you to be up and out, isn’t it?”
“Shocking as this may be, I do try to rise at a normal hour.” Instantly I thought about what else rose with me in the morning, particularly when I was thinking of Agnes, and my brain scrambled for a moment. Agnes just blinked at me, waiting for me to continue, and I shook my head.
Get your mind out of the gutter, you bloody eejit.
“I, uh, I brought you something.”
I set the paper bag on the counter between us, suddenlyfeeling stupid. What if she didn’t like this tea anymore? What if she’d moved on to a different blend years ago and I was operating on ancient information like the pathetic piner I apparently was?
Agnes peered into the bag, and I watched her face soften.
“Is this...”
“The rose and cardamom blend from that place in Edinburgh. I know you used to love it, but if you’ve moved on to something else, that’s fine, I just thought?—”
“Graham.” She looked up at me. “This is... thank you. I haven’t had this in ages. They stopped carrying it at the shop in town.”
