Nicky offered a slight smile. He was thankful when she changed the subject, the topic of his parents, something he never liked to discuss.
“The guitar is cool,” she admitted, sliding her hand across the long, detailed image of the acoustic on his forearm.
“Aye. It represents my livelihood.”
“And the paw prints on your shoulder? Another nod to the clan?”
“For my late border collie, Bandit.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed wistfully. “I lost my golden retriever when I was twelve. Her name was Maggie.” Her eyes landed on the airplane, tatted on his ribcage. “What about this one? Is it because you travel so much?”
“I’m afraid to fly,” he admitted with a chuckle.
Her brow creased. “So why would you get a tattoo of an airplane on your body?”
Mac shook his head. “It’s symbolic of conquering my fears. I thought the best way to get in touch with my fright was to tattoo it on my body so I can’t escape it. Weird, I know.”
“Not weird,” she soothed. “And this swirl?”
“It’s the triskelion, like my necklace. It’s a Celtic symbol. We used it on our first album cover art, the one Drew recognized.”
“What does it mean?”
“Evolution. Growth. I’ve come a long way.”
Her dimpled smile caused his breath to hitch. “You sure have.”
Mac asked Nicky questions of his own and learned the small-town beauty loved horseback riding and photography, the stories she told of her upbringing in the tiny tourist town, causing his heart to feel a pang of homesickness. Leaned back against his bare chest, she’d shown him pictures of her website on the screen of her cell phone, all of the photography showcasing her attention to detail she’d become known for. He congratulated her success and was delighted when her entire body blushed with pink desire in response. Scrolling through her playlist of music on her device, she found a favorite file, and the subtle crooning of Frank Sinatra serenaded them as they made love a second time, unhurried and immersed in total bliss.
This was what he longed for – what was missing in his life. To be in the arms of a beautiful woman, unhurried and placated with pleasure. To be driven mad with desire, uninterrupted in his quest to explore her mind – and her secret garden. To be with someone who wasn’t with him because of his rock star status but because they wanted to be with him for who he truly was – a man searching for honest companionship – a man looking for love. The hours melted away like the last colors of sunset, leaving him satiated in utter contentment simmering throughout his being from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
“I should like to take ye horseback riding in Scotland someday. My uncle has a few horses on his property.”
“Really?”
The soft, romantic light warmed the room with the last streams of gold from the setting sun. Her eyes were like precious jewels staring back at him, highlighting the rare and wondrous beauty. Oh, to bring this lass home. He imagined introducing her to his uncle, taking her to his favorite pub in the village, and traipsing the Scottish countryside hand in hand while inhaling the unmistakable, subtle floras of wild purple heather. The random thoughts swirled in his mind, and thrilled him with the possibility.
“Aye. Would ye like that?” He sipped from his flute and reached for her hand from across the table beyond the remnants of the charcuterie spread they’d devoured. Eyeing her beauty, he took in her mussed dark locks of hair hanging over her creamy shoulder, and the plush white robe that sagged just enough to tempt his touch.
Her eyes crinkled in a smile as she squeezed his hand, her eyelashes fanned against her perfect skin. “I’d like that very much,” she murmured.
Setting his glass on the table, he delicately pressed his lips to her hand, never taking his eyes off hers. He was rewarded when her dimples appeared full-throttle. His breath caught in his throat and he wanted to cry out with glee, he was so happy. When Nicky looked away, he noticed her slight frown as she took in the king-sized bed.
“What is it?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she shrugged. “The bed. I don’t think it’s a good idea to sleep on those damp sheets tonight. We really should’ve dried off before we…you know.” Her voice trailed off, her jeweled eyes sparkling in the soft light as she turned her attention back to him from across the table.
Folding his arms across his robed chest, he leaned back. “Well, we could always call housekeeping and have the sheets changed.”
Nicky shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea.” Clasping her hands together, she leaned forward, causing her breasts to push up behind the opening crease of the robe. Her voice was laced with childlike excitement. “Come back to my place again. You could get a good night's sleep in a dry bed, and I could saddle up the horses in the morning, and we could go to the glen and watch the sunrise together. You could even meet my father – he’ll be up and about doing his early chores. I know he’d love to meet you…,” her voice trailed off as if a realization hit her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her smile faded like the last colors of dusk into the darking night outside the window.
Mac felt his joy cloud over in an instant, the two of them sighing in unison.
Tucking her dark hair over her ear, she slumped in the chair, her next comment addressing the elephant in the room. “When do you leave, Mac?” Her words were barely a whisper, her sharp focus on him like a dagger to his heart.
Clearing his throat, he sat up a little straighter, miffed their perfect day together was marred with future angst. He didn’t want this to end – it couldn’t end. What they shared together was exceptional, and he’d be damned if he was going to chalk it up to a one-night-stand.
“I’m supposed to be back in Manhattan by noon tomorrow.” He watched her hang her head, the dread of a possible goodbye rocking him to his core. Edging off his seat, he kneeled in front of her, gripping her hands in his own.
When she looked down at him, her expression was filled with sadness, her mossy eyes turned to muddled green pools. Her chest rose in a deep intake of air. “Well then, we’ve got tonight and part of tomorrow morning. We might as well make the best of it.”
A single tear made a slow track down her flushed cheek, and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t cry. We’ll figure it out. We will.” His firm nod and searching eyes were desperate for her agreement.
Her nod was small as she ran her hands through his disheveled hair, her touch causing his insides to lurch with pining. Standing, he noticed the rose in the small votive sitting pretty on the silver tray room service had prepared. Plucking the flower out of the vase, he gently tucked it behind Nicky’s ear, the pale pink of the petals striking against her dark hair. Her smile was slight, and as he pulled her up to her feet and into a bear hug, he wasn’t sure if he could ever let her go.
***
When Mac exited the room carrying his guitar case and another duffle bag still wearing his robe and oversized boots with no socks, Nicky couldn’t help but giggle. Holding his loaded arms out to his sides, he shrugged, chuckling in reply. She held the handle of his suitcase with one hand and clutched at the lapels of her robe with the other as she eyed the deserted hotel hallway looking both ways, before meeting his eyes.
“Best get-away outfits ever.” He winked, confidently stomping toward the elevator. “Come on, Nick, while the coast is clear.”
The doors to the elevator immediately opened, and they hurried inside. Nicky was anxious to get to her car so they could escape without anyone recognizing them in the process. It was late in the evening, and as they stepped out into the lobby, the space was practically empty except for the lone hotel clerk on duty who was busy looking at his cell phone. Sidling up closer to Mac, she pulled his rolling luggage behind her, keeping her head low and holding her breath as they traipsed through the historic lobby of antique furniture and rugs, exiting through the mammoth front doors.
As they stepped out to the sidewalk, Mac
took in a sharp breath and hurried her down the walk through the parking lot. The late summer cicadas orchestrated a chorus of chirping in the trees providing ample sound coverage. Opening the back of her SUV, he was efficient and quick, loading his things in the back and slamming the hatch with a clunk. His robe had come undone and the tie around his waist was slack, revealing a small slit where his privates were on full display. Nicky’s eyes widened as she hurried around the vehicle to the driver’s side and got in. With the doors shut, she finally released a huge laugh.
“Oh, my god, Mac! I was so nervous. I thought for sure someone was going to catch us.” With her head leaned back, she pushed a heave of air out of her chest before smiling broadly at him.
“Aye, I feel like we got away with something naughty—”
“Well, it would’ve been even naughtier if someone caught you with your robe open like that,” she interrupted, gesturing with her head toward his crotch.
With mouth agape, he looked down at his x-rated composition and humorously spread the robe open wider before resting his arms on the seat rests and leaned back. “Och, feels like I’m wearin’ a kilt …a wee breeze across my tadger makes me feel alive!”
Laughter penetrated the cabin of the vehicle as Nicky turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the space. It felt good to let go and have some fun for once. It was comfortable with Mac. He didn’t care what other people thought – he was gregarious and carefree, yet protective and romantic. This man swooped into her life without warning, and she was confident that whatever time they had left together would be off-the-charts memorable and fun. There wasn’t time to ponder the what-ifs or address the incessant melancholy tapping at her heart even though her spirit urged her to demand more. No, she would match his confidence step for happy step with her self-assured stride, and play out what she could ultimately offer this man. The clock was ticking, and it was only a matter of hours before he’d be gone. It was time to push her frail feelings to the side and embrace the countdown with everything she had.
Soft beams of light rained down on them from the floodlights on the side of the white barn, the gravel crunching under the tires of the SUV. Meeting at the back end of the vehicle to retrieve Mac’s things, Nicky noticed the robe tightened back around his waist. Before she could open up the hatch, his hands were on her face, and his plump lips pressed against hers. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she welcomed the kiss, thankful they were back at her place where they could suck face all night long if they wanted to. When he pulled back from her, his features were shadowed from the overhead lighting, his hair and beard appearing darker against the backdrop of the pale planks of the barn.
“I’m so happy to be here with ye. I want ye to know that.” His proclamation reminded her of a bridegroom reciting hand-written vows off a shred of paper. His focus seemed to shift to the wilted flower behind her ear, and he lifted his hand, adjusting the rose with the tenderness of a lover. “Whatever ye want to do, I’m all yers.”
Cradling the nape of her neck, he pulled her forward, pressing his warm lips to her temple. Sighing, she closed her eyes, memorizing every touch, every breath, and every heightened sense as she felt the heat of her blush travel the length of her body, settling low in her belly.
“Let’s get inside and figure it out.” Her voice was husky with longing, a bright ember that if stoked, would catch fire in seconds. This blaze between them was sure to consume her – and she would never be the same.
Chapter Thirteen
The evergreen leaves of the trees on the outskirts of the farm hung heavy with morning dew, speckled drops glinting in small cobwebs woven in the night. Mac rested his chin on the back of Nicky’s shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist as they pulsed to the clip-clop rhythm of the chestnut horse moving beneath them. The fresh air swirled with scents of damp earth and mare, and he couldn’t help but bury his face in her hair, inhaling large, invigorating wafts of his lover’s fragrance. Glorious hues of gold and amber crisscrossed the morning sky from behind wispy clouds, the last sliver of the Sturgeon Moon fading with each passing minute. The chirping of birds was prevalent in the soft hue of morning breaking through the clouds, and a rooster crowed in the distance.
With wide eyes and a lump in his throat the size of Bannerman Island, he scanned the horizon, praising God. There was nowhere else he’d rather be, the closeness of Nicky in his embrace indescribable. Conversation was shelved as they communicated with restrained squeezes and tender kisses along the ride, Nicky guiding the animal through the grassy fields along the forest lines with ease. When she tugged on the reins, the horse obediently came to a halt. Feeling her body expand in a sigh as she leaned back against his chest, she continued to run her fingers across his exposed arm around her waist.
“It’s magnificent,” he softly murmured into her ear, looking up at the sky. “Thank ye for getting me out of bed to show this to me. I’ll never forget it. This place – it’s familiar and comforting. It reminds me of home.”
Squeezing his arm, she nodded. “I thought you might like it.” She remained silent for a beat before she angled her body to look at him. “I won’t forget you, Mac. These past few days have been – magical.”
Cupping her face with his hand, he pressed his lips to her cheek, memorizing the feel of her satiny skin. “It is I who won’t forget ye, Nicky. Ye’ve infiltrated my entire being.” Her eyes were round green saucers looking back at him, beckoning him to jump into the shimmering pools. “When I feel yer touch, my heart leaps out of my chest.” She giggled, the high-pitched resonance of her innocent joy, causing an eruption of sorts to split his face into a broad grin. “When ye look at me like that, with them dancing emerald eyes, I can’t resist ye. My Will-o’-the-wisp, I’d follow ye anywhere.”
Nicky lowered her gaze and dipped her head. Mac lifted her face with the tips of his fingers, his voice laced with urgency as he tried to explain what he was feeling in the moment. “There’s a whole new melody humming beneath my skin. I’m desperate to write the songs ye have conjured up from my soul.”
A gasp escaped her lush mouth. “You…want to write a song about me?” she asked, before she pressed her teeth into her lower lip.
“Aye. I want to write many songs about my lovely new muse.” Pressing his lips to her forehead, he meant it, his days and nights spent with her inspiring the yearning to create new music.
After tedious, time-consuming months of songwriting and editing, the new Reid Macpherson album was set to release soon, the impending world tour on the horizon like the blazing orange sun rising in the east in front of them. Exhausted by the process, he thought his creative well had run dry. But leave it to a small town American beauty to fill it back up to overflowing, the strong melody of what hummed between them a constant thrumming in his being. His creative juices were flowing again, like the hot blood pulsing through his veins as she feathered her fingers with the slightest touch across his bare skin.
“I’ll see ye again, Nicky. I can promise ye that. Come hell or high water, I’ll be back.”
Her eyes searched his with a depth and desire that stole his breath and left him shook. Combing back his ruffled hair from his worried brow, he relaxed, and his lips trembled in a half-hearted smile, knowing he would miss her terribly. Touring life was hard, especially being a single man in his prime. He coveted what his cousin James had – a wife, a partner, waiting for him on the other side. Could he dare to dream Nicky could potentially be that for him? Could she wait out the agonizing months with only technology to keep in touch? Determined to enjoy their last bit of time together and relishing the break of a new day, he pushed his angst aside, the breathy promise out of his mouth a mumbled prayer to the heavens.
“I’ll see ye again.”
***
“There’s my girl!” Amber announced, trotting toward Nicky with her arms spread open wide, her cherub face exuding excitement.
The Good Pub hosted an assortment of patrons and tourists bellied up to the bar an
d scattered among the tables in the early afternoon. The drone of an announcer calling the Mets game from the smart TV tucked in the corner among the overcrowded shelves holding liquor bottles, echoed throughout the space. Nicky rushed into her friend’s arms, pressing her eyes shut to fend off impending tears.
Ten minutes ago, she had said her final farewell to her handsome Scot, waving at him as she stood stoic next to the train tracks sporting a brave smile. The entire scene was like something out of an old black and white film, minus the movie soundtrack chorus of violins crescendo-ing the moment the steam engine jolted forward, kidnapping her lover back to New York and out of her life. Reid Macpherson was gone – and so was her mind. The man had irrevocably rocked her entire world.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Amber’s face twisted with panic, her hands sliding down Nicky’s arms as she looked up into her face with wide, brown eyes. All Nicky could do was shake her head back and forth, not sure where to start with her friend, her tears falling freely down her red splotchy cheeks. Amber pulled her toward an open stool at the far end of the bar nearest the kitchen.
“Sit,” she demanded, patting the worn wood with her small hand before ducking her tiny body under the counter lift top to where she could face Nicky from the other side. Shot glasses clinked as she efficiently set up two tawny whiskey rounds and slid one across the polished surface to her. “Drink.” Her one-word command was precisely what Nicky needed to jump-start her fretful disposition, the liquor warm and full of heat as it slid down her constricted throat. Amber slammed her glass down after downing her shot in one gulp, leaned to her left, grabbed the napkin dispenser, and parked it next to Nicky’s empty glass. Resting her forearms on the bar, she peered up into her face. “Talk.”
Nicky swallowed, the lingering notes of Scottish peat from the whiskey conjuring up images of Mac’s blue eyes, and his unmistakable cheeky grin. “I don’t even know where to begin…,” she admitted. Her mind was a tangled mess of emotions, much like the hotel linens on Mac’s bed from the night before, damp and twisted with want and need.
I'll See You Again: A Scottish rock star, standalone opposites-attract romance (Reigning Hearts Book 4) Page 9
