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“To be honest, I’m not always so…”
“Touchy? Prickly? Cranky? Irritable?”
“Enough!” She tried to pinch his waist, but the man didn’t have an ounce of flab anywhere on his body. “You bring out the worst in me for some reason.”
“Why, Bella?” He stroked her hair with a lazy hand, his fingers winnowing through the strands.
She shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. I think it has to do with the fact that you’re really smart, and you’re a man.”
“Still not following.” The smile in his voice was impossible to miss.
“I’ve spent most of my life being condescended to because I’m female. Physics is too hard, Bella. What about art or music? Get your head out of those damned books and go have some fun. I don’t think you’re exactly what we’re looking for in this internship. My father was the worst, but he wasn’t the only one.”
“That must have been infuriating. Finley, too?”
“No. Finley is smarter than me, I think, but he never enjoyed school the way I did. He’s super proud of me and very supportive.”
“What does he think about the dissertation/novel conundrum?”
The room got quiet. They were still standing in front of the fireplace, neither one apparently ready to let go or simply go.
“I haven’t told him about the novel,” she said, her words barely audible.
“Why not?”
“Well, there was the wedding and all that…”
“Excuses, excuses.”
“Don’t be mean. I know what he’ll say.”
“And that is?”
“He’ll tell me to follow my dreams or something syrupy sweet like that.”
“I’ve known Finley for some time now. The last thing I would ever call him is sweet.”
She chuckled. “Fair point. But he does have a soft spot when it comes to me. He feels guilty, because when he moved here to Skye a decade ago, he left me to handle our father. That was no easy task.”
“If you’re positive Finley will be supportive, what’s so scary about broaching the subject of your dissertation with him?”
“Why must you be so infuriatingly logical?” she muttered. “Some things come from the gut and aren’t easy to explain.”
“Try me.”
His insistence made their present posture uncomfortable. Instead of elaborating, she pulled away and rubbed her arms. “I’d like to go back to the house now.” She didn’t really want to pull away. Ian Larrimore was a very wonderful human to cozy up to… in all sorts of tantalizing ways. Even so, she didn’t need a man to fix her problems.
“Bella—”
She held up a hand when he tried to touch her. “No. Seriously, Ian. It’s time to leave.”
The small cottage was dark. The rain and wind had moved in, drummed on the roof for an hour, and moved on. Ian moved restlessly. “I suppose you’re right.” He didn’t sound too happy about it.
When they were outside and the door safely locked behind them, he put himself between her and the Jeep. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like me to drive? This lane is a suicide course, especially in the dark.”
“You don’t trust me?”
