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“Probably.” He gave my waist a gentle pinch and slipped away. “Goodnight, Molly.”
I went to bed on a glorious high, toes tingling and heart tapping an urgent rhythm against my rib cage. Living in the moment had definite benefits.
twenty-seven
Harlow was really pushingit with the smirking. She’d flashed knowing looks at me all morning as we switched off positions in front of the ensuite mirror, but her silence wormed under my skin. I could only handle so many sneaky looks before I had to speak up.
“Out with it.”
That smirk just widened. “You and Duncan, eh?”
Seemed a vague accusation to lob at someone—although, whatever she was charging me with, I was one hundred percent guilty.
“You and Carlos?” I lobbed back.
She shrugged. “I like him. He’s made this trip more fun than I expected.”
I couldn’t disagree. Being with Duncan had added an unexpected thrill to my vacation, the shot of whisky in my glass of Coke.
The most delicious whisky, FYI, not that grease-cleaner stuff.
“But what happens after the trip?”
Whatever casualness I’d tried to pretend, I needed her answer for myself. Lying in bed last night, my skin still buzzing from our goodnight kiss, the question of what would happen once this adventure tour ended had replayed in my mind. Anything? Could I be okay with nothing?
“He wants to keep in touch.” Harlow twisted her blond hair into a neat braid. “I’ve learned not to trust in empty vacation promises.”
“You’ve been burned by that before?”
“I grew up in a tourist town. I’ll believe he’s coming to Dublin to see me when he shows up on my doorstep. Until then, I’m not counting on anything beyond today.”
My stomach lurched over that grim reminder. Wewereon vacation, after all. Expecting more would just be greedy.
Even if I was growing greedier by the day.
“Anyway, I kind of thought Duncan was too old, you know, but whatever floats your boat.”
She flashed a playful grin, but still—rude. “He’s only forty-nine.”
“Wow. That’s pretty old.” She bobbed her eyebrows, clearly enjoying goading me.
“Says a girl who hasn’t cracked thirty.”
“And his beard is so gray and scraggly.”
Teasing was all well and good, but that hit below the belt. “I like his beard.”
“Oh, that’s your thing, is it?” Her grin grew wide as she opened the door to head down to breakfast. “I’m not judging you. We all have our kinks.”
I followed her out into the hall. “Liking beards is not a kink.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Duncan said.
I squeezed my eyes shut, utterly frozen.Of coursehe had just left his room. I opened my eyes again, and the sight of him sent all rational thought fleeing from my mind. Did they do good morning kisses in Scotland? If not, could we make it a thing?
“Does your timing have to be so perfect?” I asked once I’d dragged my mind away from those delectable thoughts.
His mouth tipped up. “We Scots will take you by surprise.”
