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“Aye, no worries. I’ve got yer back.”
I courteously open the door for my best friend while beaming a winning smile at Hamlet, who scowls at me before we both watch Shamus work harder than I did to fold himself inside the driver’s seat.
“Here’s Manny’s key. I will be a few minutes filling a shopping list inside with some stuff I think Hamlet might need.”
“Manny?” Shamus grins.
“Manny the Mini,” I say it like it should be obvious.
“Och,Manny.Cool name.”
I ignore the look of fury on Hamlet’s face and leave them to it.
She was thinking of doing a runner on me.
I’m one step ahead of you, gorgeous.
Seven
GUILT, GOATS, AND HOBBIT HOUSES
Ophelia
Bugger!
The man can read me like a book, and that’s not something I am proud of because he thinks he’s foiling my plan of escape, but it is I who is way ahead of him.
I glare out the windscreen at Tucker, who turns, walking backward, giving me a mock salute, throwing in a shit-eating grin—for a bonus—before spinning back around gracefully and continuing his walk to the rest stop’s entrance.
He’s all swagger.
I mentally shake myself. I thought he would never leave me alone.
Chance should be here at any moment, so we will see who is saluting who!
“How are ye feeling, lass?” Shamus arranges his back to fit against the driver’s door, one hand resting on his bare knee while he attempts small talk, and I try not to look pissy.
“I’m good, thank you. I got some sleep.”My head is blazing a trail. The sooner I get home—
“I’ve not seen Tucker like this in a long time. Ye made him sit up and take notice of ye. He’s always been cocky, born that way, but it is also a weapon. I just want ye to know that. He’s the real deal underneath. Ye’re making him work hard, and I like that about ye, lass.”
When you’ve got a gorgeous Scottish guy, wearing a kilt (hello, cover model), looking, and sounding sincere, in hindsight, you begin to feel like a total arse for planning a getaway. They both have done nothing but be good guys by going out of their way to see me home safely.
Yup! It is official. I am an arse.
Tucker has done nothing wrong. I felt prickly from the moment I laid eyes on him because I have a one-year plan. I am on a sabbatical from men. I’ve put myself willingly in time-out.
Nil-by-mouth.
I’m not even window shopping.
My heart has a do-not-disturb sign nailed to it.
Then life decides to throw two ruggedly good-looking men in my path in one arvo—best friends at that. Not that I think of Shamus in that way, which also begs the question. Why am I not noticing how sexy the kilt-wearing man is? He is amazing.
I tear my eyes away and look up at Manny’s low ceiling.
One year is all I am asking, God. Is it too hard to give me one year before you go and put a man like Tucker in my way?
