“Fuck, of course. I wasn’t thinking.”
Knowing the real cause, I assured him, “The members aren’t going anywhere. This estate is more than fancy events that offer unique moments. The uniqueness here is privacy in a place of outstanding natural beauty, and that has always been the attraction, Lachlan. Stop worrying so much. If memberships decrease, then you worry.”
He nodded, following me back to the castle. “We grew up land rich but cash poor, and I always assumed once I had some real money, I’d stop worrying about financial security so much. But it never goes away. The worry is always there, and as our family grows, it makes me think about it all over again.”
I understood, and I knew I would probably never be able to shift that way of thinking for him, but for now, I could reassure him. “Ardnoch is thriving. Try to enjoy the ceilidh, Lachlan, for what it is—your first one with a wife.”
He grinned. “Considering our activities at the last two ceilidhs we attended, I think I will.”
“You’re such a dirty bastard.”
Lachlan’s loud laughter followed me as I marched ahead of him to the castle. “I’m really enjoying being your son-in-law!”
I gave him the middle finger before I disappeared inside, the door cutting off his renewed amusement.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling nervous about meeting a woman. Flirting, saying the right thing, that had always come easy to me for the purpose of getting a woman into bed. My whole life I’d been spoiled for choice, and I knew that made me a lucky prick.
However, I was apparently utterly shit at the relationship stuff.
And I’d never wanted to be more capable of something in my whole life than exactly that as I walked down the street toward Flora’s Café. I passed neighbors and nodded hello, but I was barely aware of them. All I could think about was saying the right things to Arro, so I didn’t push her away. The pressure was unfuckingreal.
My attention caught on the public car park outside the Gloaming, and I noted Arro’s new Defender there. I was relieved she’d retired her dad’s old vehicle for safety reasons, but I knew it couldn’t have been easy for her, and I hated we hadn’t even discussed it. We would have done so in the past.
The reminder that I could say the right thing to Arro—because I’d done it for years as her friend—made me feel a wee bit better as I approached Flora’s.
There she was.
Sitting at a table by the window, her hands cupped around a cappuccino, staring down into the coffee with a frown puckering her forehead. Her long hair fell over her shoulders in soft, blond waves.
Heart racing harder, I picked up my pace and strolled into the café. I didn’t even greet the owner as I always did. I only had eyes for Arro.
She looked up as soon as I walked in.
“Hi,” I said as I pulled out the chair across from her and sat. She wore a pale-yellow T-shirt with a censored naked banana on it, and I tried not to smile, and failed. “I like your T-shirt.”
Arro smirked. “Regan bought it for my birthday.”
I took in her face, and everything in me went calm and still, the chaos inside finally slotting into place like a puzzle, its restlessness fizzling out with relief. She’d caught the sun these past few weeks, freckles glowing on her cheeks and sprinkled across her nose, her skin a soft golden tone. It made her eyes an even paler blue. Arro was beautiful, but beyond the kind of beautiful you experience when you look at an attractive person. She was beautiful to me in a way that burst from the inside out. The kind of beauty that caused this rising, aching sensation. The kind of beauty that reminded me why life was worth living.
Fuck, I loved this woman.
Arro’s eyes widened a little, as if she could read everything on my face. She probably could.
“Mac, you didn’t say hello.” Flora, the café owner, broke the moment between us as she approached our table. It was only as I looked up that I realized the café was filled with customers, the tables all full. I hadn’t even heard their chatter until now, I was so focused on Arrochar Adair.
“Flora, morning. Can I get an Americano, please?”
“Um … yeah, of course.” Her head bobbed like she was confused. “I’ll just bring that over.” Her expression flattened, and she stomped away.
I turned back to Arro. “What was that?”
Arro raised an eyebrow. “Mac, you usually flirt with her. It makes her day.”
Ah. Right.
Flora Macdonald was an attractive woman around my age, but she was also very married. Mick Macdonald was a bus driver and a dry sort. I didn’t think he did much flirting with his wife. I flirted with her because it was second nature, but I would never flirt in earnest with a married woman.
And now … I didn’t want to flirt with anyone but Arro. I never wanted her to mistake it for something it wasn’t or be hurt by it. I’d inflicted enough pain.