Can't Tie Me Down! (Sinclair Sisters 1)

She sounded like she was talking to a five-year-old. Give her another couple of minutes and she’d make him sit in the naughty corner. This was what her fake boyfriends did to her—they turned her into a school teacher surrounded by problem children. It was one of the many reasons why they should have remained online, where they belonged.

“He said he was only saving you from yourself,” Sebastian translated for his friend. “I agree. You can’t afford to be swayed by the mechanic’s muscles and tattoos. There’s more to a relationship than a six-pack.” He patted his slightly rounded stomach, which was covered by a t-shirt with a Stormtrooper and the words Underneath, We’re All Different on it.

Mairi cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

Sebastian flushed. “I could have a six-pack, but I choose to spend my time exercising my brain, not my body. Good looks fade, but intelligence lasts forever.”

“I feel like I’m in an episode of The Big Bang Theory and I’m Penny,” Mairi said.

That set the guys off into an enthusiastic debate about whether Sheldon suffered from Asperger’s. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before; they spent a lot of time analyzing the cast on that show.

They were in the Highland Pub in Campbeltown. Mainly because Mairi couldn’t take another evening under siege in her tiny apartment, so had invited the men to the pub after they’d dropped Gladys back at the home. Thankfully, it was a Tuesday night, so it was quiet. There were only one or two regulars in the pub to stare at the group in bewilderment.

The boys had pulled several tables together in a long line under the large wall-mounted TV. Most of them were wearing jeans and t-shirts emblazoned with geek slogans. One of the twins, Damien, was wearing a suit—because it was a night out, and when you went out, you wore a suit. She’d just patted his head and moved on. Then there was the Wookiee.

She glared at him, and he warbled again.

“You know,” Sebastian said, “if you’re kissing people to see if you have chemistry with them, you should keep it fair and kiss each of us.”

It was as though someone had put the pub on mute. All eyes shot to her.

“Do I look like something you can try before you buy?” She stood and slapped the table. “No. I am not kissing everyone. I’m going to go sit at the bar for a few minutes to give you time to think about the wrongness of that idea.” Damn it, she sounded like a kindergarten teacher again.

Past caring, she stomped over to the bar. A glance at the clock told her they’d been inside exactly ten minutes, not even long enough to get in a round of drinks. Time was slowing around the men. If she didn’t get rid of them soon, she’d end up trapped in some sort of Groundhog Day cycle, where she wasn’t allowed to move on until she picked one of them. Or—she eyed their numbers—she could just wait until they all got bored of chasing her. They’d lost a few of the group already, due to discouragement or lack of interest on their part—because her obvious lack of interest was gamely ignored. One of the guys had gotten lost in Glasgow when his scooter couldn’t keep up with the pack. Surely, it was just a matter of time before the rest wandered off too. She looked over at them and shook her head. Who was she kidding? The remaining men had settled in for the long haul.

Mairi climbed onto a stool beside the bar, which wasn’t easy, because the stools were made for giants, not normal people, like her. No matter how hard people tried, no one could convince Mairi that five foot two was anything but normal, and woe betide anyone who uttered the word “short” in her presence.

“I need a drink,” she told Ewan McKenzie, Keir’

s cousin and owner of the pub. “Something strong.”

He slammed a can of 7UP in front of her and cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on.” Mairi picked up the can. “You can see what I’m dealing with.” She pointed at the guys. Two of them had calculators out, as they figured out how much each person should put in the pot to fairly spread the cost of a night on the town. Their words, not hers, because Campbeltown wasn’t actually big enough for anyone to have a whole night on it. They hadn’t even ordered a drink yet, and if they kept arguing over how to split their costs, they never would.

“Aye, I was wondering about that.” Ewan frowned at the men. “What’s going on?”

“I’m on a date.”

“With all of them?”

“Welcome to my life. Now, please, give me alcohol.”

“You don’t get alcohol. Not after the last time. You’re lucky I let you back in my pub.” Ewan folded his arms and glared at her.

“Don’t be such a sissy. People get drunk in here all the time. If you cut everyone off that did, you wouldn’t have any business.”

“You’re the only one that starts a fight every time you get drunk.”

“Twice. I did that twice. And to be fair, it wasn’t really me. It was Agnes.”

He snorted. “It was both of you.”

“Well, Joanne Granger shouldn’t have called Isobel a whore.”

“I agree, but you shouldn’t have jumped on her back and tried to pull out her hair, either. You can’t argue your way out of this. You’re on soft drinks or nothing at all. Be grateful I let you in the door. Other pub owners wouldn’t have.”

She popped the tab on the can and gulped the 7UP while she gave him the death stare. He didn’t even flinch, which made Mairi think she might be losing her touch.