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“Sorry. No coffee at all. I could make you some herbal tea.” Even as the words left my mouth I had to laugh. “You’re not exactly the herbal tea type, are you?”
He cocked his head and stared at me with those deep blue eyes. “I could be persuaded. If you promise to join me.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “We need to back up a few steps,” I said quietly. “Last night told me that neither one of us is ready to…well, you know…”
He winced. “I’m sorry I said what I did. I was being a jackass. Maybe I do have some old baggage to sort through. It has nothing to do with you.”
“I believe you, Finley. I do. Let’s hit the restart button. Okay?”
“Fair enough. I’d still like that drink.”
While I measured out the loose tea leaves and found matching pottery mugs in the cabinet, Finley pulled the second rocking chair by the fire adjacent to mine. Nothing was going to happen tonight. Why was I still as jittery as a teenager en route to the prom?
I added one sugar to my cup and three to his. The man had a sweet tooth. I’d noticed as much in the brief course of our acquaintance. When I handed him his tea, he wrapped his fingers around the warm crockery and sat down with a sigh.
“How are things in Portree?” I asked, joining him by the fire.
“My place is fine. Unfortunately, there’s already flood damage in town, and it will only get worse.”
“But we’re on an island. The ocean doesn’t flood.”
“No. You’ve seen the way the town sits, though. It’s a funnel. The rain is falling so hard, so fast, that as it rushes down from the higher ground, it’s creating rivers or waterfalls, whatever you want to call it. We’ll have a lot of cleanup ahead.”
I knew the word we didn’t include me. Finley was a permanent resident of Portree, part of the town. He would pitch in with his fellow citizens to do what had to be done. I envied him in many ways. I’d never had an opportunity to try the small-town lifestyle. It seemed charming and peaceful, but would I enjoy it long term?
Finley finished his drink and set his cup on the floor. Then he ran both hands through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know what it is about you, Duchess. I feel as if I’ve known you a lot longer than I really have.”
I nodded slowly. “Maybe it’s because I’m someone from home, and we have a background in common.”
“I don’t think so.” He stood and poked the fire, then straightened and rested one arm on the mantel. In profile, his features were strong and masculine. I could imagine a Renaissance artist wanting to paint or sculpt him.
“Does Scotland really feel like home to you?” I asked.
He grimaced. “In some ways.”
“But not all.”
“No.”
“Do you ever plan to go back? For good, I mean?”
He crouched suddenly in front of my rocker, his hand on my knees. “You ask a hell of a lot of questions, Duchess.”
“Sorry.” I wasn’t really. It seemed like the thing to say. From this angle, I could see a silver thread here and there in his dark, glossy hair. Finley was no callow youth. He was a man. And he carried with him a man’s hurts.
I touched his cheek tentatively, almost expecting him to bat my hand away. “I’m not a spoiled heiress, Finley. At least I don’t think I am.”
His grin lit a spark in my belly. “I’m pretty clear on that now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I googled you last night. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’ve singlehandedly done all the interior design work for every Habitat for Humanity house that’s been built in the state of Georgia for the last four years.” His grin faded, replaced by a sober regard that made me antsy.
He had me boxed in, physically. I stood up abruptly and escaped to the other side of the room, tidying things at the sink. “It’s no big deal. It’s a way to use my training, and I don’t need to get paid for the work. So it’s a win-win for everyone.”
