Single Daddy Scot (Hot Scots)

That he wants to stay over is a good sign, but not on a Sunday evening. We’d compromised by saying he could stay for a few hours and I pick him up on the way home. quite honestly, I wished he’d chosen another day. I can’t even head home on my own. Not without raising questions.

‘You’re sure Agnes isn’t too old to cope?’ I ask Keir, not for the first time. Leaving the kids watching a Disney film, we’d headed out for dinner and are now having a few drinks. ‘The two of them were a bit boisterous this afternoon.’

‘Agnes?’ Keir lifts his head from contemplation of his glass, his glance almost incredulous. ‘She frightens the shite out of me. She’ll have no bother with two kids. Relax, man. Enjoy your whisky. They’re in good hands.’

They are, I know. I’m the one who’d prefer a change of company. And at that thought, my phone chimes with a text.

Ella: Louis is home with me. Don’t panic, everything’s fine. A lovely lady named Agnes arranged to bring him home. She seemed to think an evening with friends is what you need. I was at home already, by the way.

I’d left Ella’s number with Agnes as an emergency contact, but must have missed the arrangements between Keir and Agnes. And now my excuse for bailing has gone. Shit. I was looking forward to getting back, hoping Ella would also be home. Looking forward to getting my hands on her again.

Me: Thanks for letting me know about Louis. But what I need is at home. I think I made myself clear on that score this afternoon.

I wait for a response, but none arrives.

‘Good hands, is it?’ I complain, eventually looking up from my phone. ‘I suppose this is your doing? Getting Louis home?’

‘You need to think of yourself more,’ he replies evenly. And how can I complain about that without confirming his suspicions about Ella?

‘That’s rich coming from you,’ I say, deciding to deflect. ‘And I suppose they’re in good hands, too?’ I nod in the direction of the bar to where Will stands chatting up a couple of girls.

‘He’s really pissed you off, hasn’t he?’ And what do you know? Keir’s amused tone, not to mention his Good Samaritan bit, pisses me off that little bit more.

‘The baw bag wouldn’t say what she’d written on the napkin,’ I grumble. What if she’s no longer interested in me after Will had introduced himself? ‘If it was her phone number—’

‘You’ll what? Lose a friend over her? A lassie you’ve known for a week or so over a mate of a years?’ I don’t have an answer beyond the glower I shift from Will to Keir momentarily. ‘Look, if it’s any consolation, she looked like she’d rather touch his prostate than his hand when he introduced himself.’

‘She looked a wee bit friendlier as she handed him the napkin,’ I grumble.

‘Probably because he was leaving her alone.’ The thought eases the tightness in my chest a touch. ‘You like her, don’t you?’ I feign ignorance, taking a swallow of my drink. ‘I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life, and Christ knows it’s good to see you’re not pining after someone unobtainable.’

From the ease of my chest to the feeling my stomach could eat itself. ‘It’s like the song says. You can’nae always have what you want.’

‘And sometimes, what you want isn’t what you need.’

‘And sometimes, friends can be a real pain in the arse.’ I glance up briefly as Will begins weaving his way through the tables, his arm around each of the girls. ‘You know he’s about to spoil our night with Pretty and Dumb.’

‘Which one’s which, do you reckon?’

‘They’re interchangeable, along with their mates Easy and Fuckable.’

‘You’re a real Prince Charming,’ Keir responds. ‘But I can tell which one is yours, by the way.’

‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘After your recent hiatus? Look, one of them is even blonde.’

Something in his tone makes me look up from my glass, or a familiarity in the giggle that drifts our way?

‘Mac!’ squeals the blonde whose name I know . . . Maybe? Rhianna! Or is it Brianna? ‘Long time, no see, baby,’ she says, crawling onto my knee.

‘The elusive Mac,’ her friend purrs.

And then I see the look on Will’s face. His smug expression just dripping with the implication; you’re as bad as I am, mate.

Because, God forgive me, I’ve fucked both these women.

15

Mac

Injudicious. That’s the word that swims though my head as I attempt to stick the key in the lock of my front door. The lock that won’t keep still for the feckin’ key.

‘It would be imprudent of me to say what I’m thinking,’ I think I say, trying for a second stab when the door springs open.

‘Ella! What are you doin’ here?’ I ask, suddenly delighted.