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“Oh trust me, I have tried. So why don’t you add to the picture just to make sure that my mental imagery is correct. Is he clean-shaven?”
I rounded on him and grabbed his arm. “Down there?”
“Well, I was talking about his chest, but now that I know you’ve seen him completely nude, I’m going to need evenmoredetails,” Matthew all but panted, and I poked him in the chest.
“Let’s just say I could easily see him gracing the cover of one of those men’s calendars. You know the ones where the firemen raise money for charity by posing half naked while cuddling puppies or kittens?” I asked.
“Go on...” Matthew exaggerated his breathing. “I really had no idea how…virulent the men here would be. Now if I could just find one that is just a little bit nerdy and not too overwhelming, I’d be all set.”
“You and me both.” I laughed. “Except I’m not here for that, remember?”
“Well, honey, you may be getting it whether you like it or not,” Matthew said. “If I’m reading this situation correctly.”
“Lachlan is not interested in me. He’s trying to scare me away more than anything.” Of that, I was certain, after he’d laid out his threat earlier that day.
“Oh sure, I also like to expose my dripping wet gorgeous naked body to someone to get them to leave. Yes, that’s the first tactic I would use to chase people away.” Matthew rolled his eyes as we crunched down the gravel path that led from the castle to the village.
“I mean it would scaremeaway,” I teased, and Matthew’s mouth dropped open.
“Wow, Scottish Sophie is bitchy,” Matthew said. “I like it.”
I laughed and hooked my arm through Matthew’s as we left the gates of the castle and crossed the road to the sidewalk that lined the banks of the loch. Loch Mirren was gorgeous in her vastness, far larger than any lake I had seen back home, cupped gently by rolling green mountains in the background. Gorgeous skyscraper clouds lined the horizon, and the setting sun tinged their curves pink. My eyes caught on the small island a far distance from shore, where I could just make out a pile of stones between the trees. I paused, looking across the still waters that reflected the mountains, and wondered if the myths were actually true.
“It sure grabs your heart,” Matthew observed, leaning against the stone wall that lined the walkway. “It’s a stark contrast to the strip malls and hills cluttered with houses back home.”
“It’s like an uncut gem,” I said, my breath catching. “I think the roughness of its edges adds to its beauty. It’s not a polished landscape, is it? But something in that wildness appeals to me.”
“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Matthew turned to me. “Or left the office for any discernible amount of time?”
The wind picked up, bringing the icy scent of rain with it, so we continued our walk toward town. Clustered on the banks of Loch Mirren, Loren Brae reminded me of an old friend waving you over to sit a while on her porch. I realized with a jolt that I wanted to stay, to listen to her whisper her secrets into my ear, and to wander the banks dreaming about what-ifs and what-may-comes.
It was out of character for me, but a lot of things had been since I had arrived in Scotland and maybe I just needed to embrace this side of myself. “It’s probably been a year or two since I’ve taken a proper vacation,” I admitted, stopping to smile at a charming statue of a unicorn tucked next to a weathered wooden bench.
“See? That’s your problem as well. You only ever see the inside of your office and your shabby little apartment. Maybe coming here is exactly the change you needed.”
“I wasn’t aware that I needed a change,” I protested. “Why does everyone else always think they know what’s best for me? When am I not allowed to be the one who can be trusted with decisions for her own life?” I wasn’t really mad at Matthew, but I did feel a little annoyed at his line of questioning.
“When you can show me a proper work-life balance, a level of self-care that isn’t leading you toward a stroke at the age of thirty-five, and a touch better decision-making when it comes to the men in your life, then maybe I won’t interfere so much,” Matthew said as we came upon a building with light spilling from its arched windows. A sign over the door pronounced it to be the Tipsy Thistle, and I decided that I was going to go in for a pint. If I was going to be a temporary local, then I should have the proper Scottish experience.
“Just like you’re so great at picking the men in your life?” I arched a brow at Matthew.
“Sheisbitchy. For your information, I’d already taken my sabbatical formeprior to agreeing to go on that dig with Jason. A part of me had already known he wasn’t the one for me. But he was fun for a while, and I was just fine with that,” Matthew said, his hand on the doorknob.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” I said, immediately chagrined. “You’re right, I am being bitchy.”
“That’s probably because you haven’t had a proper orgasm in years.” Matthew grinned, and I punched his arm.
“Orit’s because I’m hungry. Have you ever heard of hangry?” I pushed through the doors of the pub, and music immediately greeted me.
The narrow stone hallway had me ducking my head even though the ceilings weren’t actuallythatlow. They just felt that way as we stepped through another arched hallway and into the main room of the pub. Now this?Thiswas a proper Scottish pub. The brand manager in me instantly approved, as though the owner had built this place straight from a movie set. Thick stone walls, a massive arched fireplace, and a rounded wooden bar dominated the main room. Groups of people sat at small tables, surrounded by tartan print chairs, and the walls were decorated with an eclectic mix of old liquor signs, family crests, and artwork.
“Well, well, well, I wondered when you two would be finding your way to me.” My mouth dropped open at the man who stood behind the bar, a cheerful grin on his face.
“Our taxi driver!” Matthew exclaimed, pulling me over to the bar. Was it just me, or had the pub gotten quieter upon our arrival? I glanced around to see people whispering and looking at us. Yup, we were definitely the new people in town.
“Wow, you’re really a jack-of-all-trades,” I said. “Are you really a taxi driver, or was that something set up by Harold?”
“I’m never one to turn down an opportunity to make an egregious amount of money for something so simple as carrying a couple of tourists along a few windy roads. My name is Graham, by the way, and this is my pub. Welcome.” Graham slid some leatherbound menus in front of us as we took two empty seats at the bar.
