“Good morning,” Nicky greeted as she tried to assess the situation. When she looked up at Mac, she muttered a polite “thank you” and felt her cheeks warm as he squeezed her shoulder. It was odd knowing they’d slept in each other’s arms the entire night. “I take it you two already met?” she asked, getting comfortable in the chair.
“Yes, we sure did.” Her mother’s response was full of glee. “I found Mac leaned against a fencepost enjoying the sunrise earlier. I thought he was one of the new day laborers, but then I remembered it was Sunday.” She laughed, bringing her ceramic mug of coffee to her lips.
Nicky stifled a giggle and turned to look at Mac with wide eyes. He nodded with pleasure. “Coffee?” he asked. When she nodded, he made his way to the coffee pot and poured a cup. When he handed it to her, he seemed energized and eager to talk. Sitting in the chair next to her, he leaned back and rested his ankle on his knee. “Aye. It was a bonny sunrise coming over the glen, lighting up the land and awakening all the animals. The simple pleasure of taking it all in with the special quietness of dawn—I have to admit, it’s my favorite time of the day.”
Mrs. Sinclair agreed with a slight nod, pushing a plate of dense, gluten-free doughnuts sprinkled with cinnamon toward her. These were a Sunday staple in her family— a weekly gift tucked in a simple cardboard box from the local bakery her father picked up every Saturday afternoon after the last of the produce deliveries were made in town. Aside from taking care of the animals, Sundays on the farm were for rest – the doughnuts, and coffee the perfect start to a day with nothing on the schedule.
“Mac told me all about the concert last night. You should have called your father and me. We would have loved to have joined you. We’re big fans of his music.”
Nicky sputtered on a sip of coffee she’d added a generous amount of creamer to. “You and Dad know Mac’s music?” Her eyes darted to Mac, whose eyebrow was hitched above his half-smile.
“Of course,” she answered as if her daughter’s question was silly. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed when your father cranks it up really loud when he’s working on one of the tractors or tinkering with machinery.” She turned her attention to Mac with all the confidence of a music connoisseur. “I like the bluegrass influences of your music, Mac, especially on your album, ‘Happy Wanderer.’”
Nicky’s brow hitched as she looked at her mom with surprise. Her parents were Reid Macpherson fans? What in the world?
Mac chuckled, and she felt his warm hand press against her bare thigh under the table, making her flinch. “Thanks, Marjorie. It means a lot. I’m looking forward to meeting Nicky’s Da, Adam.” His blue gaze seemed humored by the conversation, and he shrugged. Oh, how she wished they’d woken up together and could have watched the sunrise wrapped in each other’s arms…
“You should take Mac to Bannerman Island. It’s the third Sunday of the month when they have live music…”
“Oh, Mom, I don’t know. Mac has to get back to New York, and—”
“No, I don’t,” he interrupted.
Pressing her lips together, she flicked her head to look at him again. His cheeks were ruddy, his grin intentional.
“You don’t?”
“Nae. I already spoke to James. His wife, Shannon, has family in New York he wanted to see before we left. I told him to go on ahead. I’d like to stay if I may. Ye can show me the rest of the farm and Bannerman Island later. That is if ye don’t have anything else on yer schedule.”
Who was she kidding? She’d love to! Her face flushed, and she glanced at her mother, who held a familiar arching eyebrow and smile.
“Yes, Mac. I’d like that very much.”
***
As Nicky eagerly dressed for the day ahead, Mac sat and chit-chatted with her mother and indulged on a second doughnut. Pulling on his sturdy boots, he felt like a bother asking way too many questions. But Marjorie satisfied his curiosity, telling him all about her hand-crafted goat milk soaps and lotions she sold at one of the boutiques in Cold Creek, and how her organic eggs were a huge farm-to-table favorite during the summer months with all the restaurants in town. She talked proudly about their prize-winning vegetables at White Barn Farm, the wide selection offered grown from heirloom seeds cultivated from generations gone by. Theirs was a family business like no other, but what really impressed him was her evident pride when she gushed about Nicky’s wedding business directly below them. The White Barn family franchise was thriving, and he couldn’t be happier for the Sinclair family.
When Nicky finally emerged wearing camo leggings, a light-pink tank top, and sturdy hiking shoes, his eyes raked over her appearance with anticipation for the day ahead. Her long hair was braided in a fashion similar to her mother’s, the two of them the spitting image of one another. It was uncanny, really, the genes with the Sinclair women astonishingly beautiful.
“Are ye ready to go, then?” he asked, standing to greet her. The familiar fragrance of flowers wafted under his nose, and he inhaled deeply, knowing it was her signature scent.
“Yes. Let me grab a few things for my backpack.”
With his hands on his hips, he couldn’t help the cheeky smile plastered on his face as he waited. When Marjorie started to clean up their coffee cups, he joined her, packing up the cardboard box with leftover doughnuts.
“I hope you have a terrific day in this gorgeous weather. Adam will be so sorry he missed you this morning, but he’ll be back later. Maybe you can stop by again to meet him on your way out?” she suggested. Her pleasant smile was maternal and warm, making him wistful for his own family back in Aberdeen. He’d learned Adam Sinclair was a diehard hiker and often trekked the Hudson Highlands State Park on his one and only day off from their thriving farming business.
“Aye, I’d like very much to meet him.”
Nicky sidled up next to Mac and exhaled. “Mom, thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you later.”
“Have fun,” she grinned, kissing her daughter on the cheek. “And it was very nice meeting you, Mac,” she added, kissing him on the cheek, too.
“The pleasure was all mine.”
Mac closed his eyes and leaned his forearm on the ledge of the open car window, relishing the sensory overload, enjoying his hair being blown back as the wind tickled his face under the canopy of leafy trees and speckled sunlight. With the windows rolled down, the fresh morning air tumbled around them like playful butterflies. When he spoke to James earlier, his cousin insisted he stay behind and “explore” Cold Creek with Nicky. The cousins planned on seeing the sights in New York for a few more days anyway before they started prepping for the upcoming rehearsals for the world tour, starting in a little over a month. To experience the pleasure of a summer day accompanied by a beautiful woman was an unexpected bonus to his trip, one that he wasn’t about to waste.
“Thank ye for stopping by the hotel. I hope ye don’t mind me taking a quick shower and changing my clothes before our adventure.”
“I don’t mind at all,” she cheerfully replied, glancing at him before settling her eyes back on the road.
Driving into town, Mac was taken aback by the slew of folks already out and about shopping and enjoying brunch in the outdoor seating of the quaint cafés and on the porches of the historic hotels. Slipping his sunglasses over his eyes to remain somewhat incognito, he couldn’t help but cower into his seat, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized and bombarded with fans. Nicky looked over at him and seemed to sense his concern.
“I can pull around to the alley entrance and let you out. Take your time getting ready while I go grab us a picnic lunch to take over to the island. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” he replied, reaching over and squeezing her camo-clad thigh.
“Cool.” Navigating her SUV through the narrow pass next to the hotel, she pulled up next to a giant dumpster to let him out. “Just go through that door right there into the kitchen. A guy named Mike is the head chef. Tell him I sent you this way, and he’ll guide you to the lobby.�
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With a quick nod, Mac got out of the car and opened the back door to retrieve his guitar case. Before she could drive away, he shouted toward the open front window. “Wait, lass!” Trotting to the driver’s side door with his instrument hanging off his shoulder, he gripped her forearm resting on the open window. Biting his lower lip to thwart off a smile, he reached in to hold her cheek with his free hand and watched her emerald eyes widen.
“I’ve meant to properly greet ye all morning.” Leaning in, he pressed his lips against hers, making her squeal. The familiar warmth of her tongue swept across the seam of his mouth, and he welcomed it, nipping at her lips, anxious to be alone with her again. “Are ye sure ye don’t want to come up with me?” he teased. He was panting, and the bulge forming between his legs throbbed with desire.
Nicky’s entire face flushed with color, and she rolled her eyes as if humored by his cheeky behavior. Her lips pressed against his temple before she gripped the steering wheel. “I’ll be back soon. Meet me out here in twenty minutes.”
“Aye,” he chuckled, stepping back from the vehicle, blowing her one last kiss. They held each other’s gaze for a moment more before she drove off with a classic grin on her face. Mac stood in the quiet alley until the dust settled and smirked, his emerging tadger flinching between his legs. “Down, boy,” he muttered to himself. “We’ve a long day ahead. Ye leave me no choice but a cold shower and snug drawers.”
Chapter Seven
Nicky knew precisely where she would go to get her and Mac a picnic lunch. The door of the Hudson Hill Café dinged as she entered, and her smile was immediate when she saw the owner, Marguerite Sentieri, behind the counter. “Mama,” as she was affectionately called by all the locals, was a woman in her late seventies of Italian descent – a creative in the community famous for her lemon-ricotta pancakes and specialty items. Nicky appreciated the woman’s attention to detail, especially when she put together picnics for couples. White Barn Weddings highly endorsed the café and often gifted famished newlyweds with a unique basket of edible treats upon their getaway.
Mama noticed Nicky come in as she finished ringing up a customer, her smile warm and welcoming. “Ciao, Bella,” her cheerful voice rang out. The apron she wore was crisp and white as if ironed only moments before, and her gray hair was pulled back from her face into a tidy top knot. The glass display cases on either side of the register were full of a variety of baked goods, imported Italian meats and cheeses, and prepared salads with locally grown vegetables and herbs, many from her family’s farm. The store held a faint aroma of fresh lemon, making Nicky’s mouth water.
“Hey, Mama Sentieri. How are you today?” she asked, leaning across the counter to give the woman a quick hug.
“I am well. Isn’t it a little early to be ordering your gift baskets for the next weekend?”
Nicky blushed, dipping her head. “I’m not here to order a gift basket today. I’m here to pick up one of your Bannerman picnic baskets – you know, the one with the almond chicken salad for two?”
Mama’s eyes seemed to glimmer in the light, and she crossed her arms across her chest. “I see. And who is the lucky fella?”
Mama and the rest of the locals in town knew all about her breakup with Eric. Without giving too much away, she kept her reply short and sweet, twisting the end of her braid in her fingers. “His name is Mac. He’s only in town for a short time, and I wanted to take him over to Bannerman Island for the day.”
“How wonderful!” Mama exclaimed. “It will take me a few minutes to put it all together.” The woman walked over to an open shelf and pulled down a glass, filling it with ice and lemonade she poured from a pitcher. “Have a seat and a cold drink while I get it ready for you and your special guest.”
Taking the glass from her hands, Nicky nodded. “Thanks, Mama.” Happy not to have to answer any more questions, she took a sip of her drink as she crossed the room. The lemonade was tart with just the perfect amount of sweet. Sitting at one of the empty wrought iron tables, she looked out the window at all the tourists bustling along the sidewalk. She hoped Bannerman Island wouldn’t be too crowded, especially with the live music offered in the early evening. The weather forecast called for a few pop-up thunderstorms later, which might keep folks from committing to the island excursion. It was hit or miss as the summer season wound down. Hoping for the best, she was eager to keep Mac entertained and show him a good time in the community she called home.
Fifteen minutes later, under the brilliant summer sun, Nicky carried a small, wicker picnic basket in the crook of her arm back to her car. Mama Sentieri filled it with the items she requested—chicken salad on miniature croissants, dried fruit, and raspberry button cookies. There was even a thermos of tart lemonade to share. She hoped Mac would be pleased with her choices and looked forward to seeing him again.
When she pulled into the alleyway next to the hotel, her chest rose in a deep breath when she spotted the famous musician leaned against the ancient brick scrolling through his phone. When he looked up, she saw a glint of sunlight flash across his handsome smile, and it sent a shiver down her neck. Dressed in blue denim, a white tee exposing his tattooed arms, and sneakers, he looked like a twenty-something college kid, not a thirty-something rock star. Surely no one would recognize him this far north of the city. Rolling down the passenger side window, she hollered, “Hey, handsome. Need a ride?”
Pushing himself off the building, Mac sauntered over to the car and leaned his forearms across the open window. “I’m glad ye came back for me,” he teased. “Have I dressed appropriately? I wasn’t sure what to wear on the island.”
Smiling up at him, Nicky peered over her sunglasses. “I was going to suggest long pants. The island is covered in poison ivy and infested with snakes.” She watched his face pale with a frown, then laughed knowing full well she was teasing him right back. “You’re dressed perfectly. Get in.”
Driving parallel to the railroad tracks through town along the river, they passed palisades and marinas docked with tour boats. They made small talk, and she filled him in on a brief history of Bannerman Island. The castle ruins dated back to the 1800s when a New Yorker named Francis Bannerman constructed the fortress to store his supply of surplus military equipment, weapons, and explosives.
When Nicky finally pulled into a small marina with weather-worn docks, Mac sighed, raking his fingers down his beard. He’d been listening intently, not saying a word until she finished. “Did ye also know that Frank Bannerman was a Scottish patriot?”
Nicky put the car in park and turned to look at him, confused by his information. “No, I didn’t.” She was suddenly embarrassed, feeling like she should have known this, being a local in Cold Creek, especially in the company of a Scot as famous as he was.
“Aye. Bannerman was a descendent from one of the few Macdonald’s to survive the massacre at Glencoe in 1692.”
Nicky perched her sunglasses on top of her head and furrowed her brow as she mulled over this information. She had no idea. “I thought the Bannerman’s were from Brooklyn.”
Mac nodded. “Aye. The family eventually immigrated to Brooklyn. When ye have some time, ye should look up the history in its entirety. Ye might be surprised by yer findings.” He offered her a slight smile, but it was hard not to notice his handsome face clouded over with a disturbing look, as if haunted by a memory. Turning away from her, he pulled a ball cap from his back pocket and placed it over his auburn hair. Next, he covered his blue eyes with expensive sunglasses. Following suit, she lowered her sunglasses back over her eyes and exited the car, retrieving the picnic basket and a blanket from the backseat.
“Allow me,” Mac said, taking the items from her hands.
“Thank you.”
“Tis a pleasure,” he smiled, his laid-back countenance intact. Their shoes crunched along the gravel as they walked toward the dock, and a male teen in a red Polo shirt with the marina logo happily greeted them.
“Hey there. I’m Drew.” His
introduction was polite as he held a pen and a clipboard in his hands. “What’s the reservation name?”
“Sinclair,” Nicky offered.
The blonde teen was sun-kissed and well-mannered, his fair hair falling across his cheap sunglasses as he did a double-take when he seemed to notice Mac. His chest rose in a deep breath as he shook his head and took a step back. “No way,” he muttered, his hands falling to his sides.
“Is something wrong?” Nicky asked. It was then she realized the teen recognized Mac, even with his baseball cap and sunglasses hiding most of the Scot’s face.
“You’re Reid Macpherson,” the boy gasped.
Mac seemed to take it all in stride and approached the boy with ease. “Aye, lad. It’s nice to meet ye.” He shoved his hand out to shake Drew’s. When the teen realized his hands were full, he awkwardly turned to Nicky and handed her the pen and clipboard, eager to touch the superstar.
“Oh, man. I’m a huge fan, Mr. Macpherson. Oh my god, my friends will never believe this!”
Nicky cocked her eyebrow while watching the exchange, not sure how she could help Mac in the situation. She stood tall, taking it all in as the teen pumped Mac’s arm up and down, as if not ready to let go.
“Ye’ve a mighty powerful grip, laddie. Do ye mind taking a little walk for a private word?” He placed the picnic basket on the ground before turning to Nicky. “I’ll only be a minute or so.”
I'll See You Again: A Scottish rock star, standalone opposites-attract romance (Reigning Hearts Book 4) Page 5
