“That’s not it.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets and stared at the woman who owned him. “What if we’re right for each other? Can you say you haven’t thought of staying here with me?”
“No,” she whispered.
“So, why not take a chance?”
Anguished eyes met his. “What if in six weeks or six months I want to leave? I’ll hurt you.”
He blinked, understanding the heart of the problem. She was afraid of being hurt. It made sense with her backstory. “I’d rather cut out my soul than hurt you. Take a chance on us. Please.”
Nothing, except glistening eyes swimming with regret.
She’s going to know how I feel before she leaves.
He clenched his teeth against the hopeless, bitter pain. “I love you.”
She blinked and clutched at her stomach. “What?”
“You didn’t hear me wrong.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You can’t love me.”
“But I do. Didn’t plan on it, but there it is. It’s up to you what you do with it.” Please do something with it.
They stared at each other for several long moments, long enough that he knew what she’d say next, her faced etched with the same heartbreaking sorrow he felt.
“Stay,” he tried one last time.
“I can’t,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes.
He cupped her trembling face in his hands. “You can. Please, Georgia.” He leaned in and wrapped her in his arms. Would this be the last time he kissed her, held her? He hoped like hell it wasn’t, but he’d stated his case, and it was now up to her. Did she want to fight for them, or would she walk away?
She tore from him in a strangled cry, then ran out the front door, and out of his life.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. What a fucked-up mess.
He took Delilah to her stall and tucked a blanket around her, then made his way back inside to snag a bottle of whiskey, intent on drowning his sorrows. He was well into his second glass when Ainsley walked through his door.
“Got another?”
He nodded, grabbed a tumbler from the kitchen, then pulled two chairs toward the fire he’d built earlier so Georgia wouldn’t be cold if the hot water failed.
The best laid plans.
“Georgia’s staying with me,” Ainsley said. “She came running into the pub, crying, talking about Grace. I don’t know if she meant the Amazing kind. She was jabbering away, so I gave her a stiff brandy. She said she couldn’t face you because of something you’d said, and asked if she could sleep on my couch.” Ainsley took a mouthful of whiskey. “That created another wave of tears. I asked Hamish to tend after the bar while I took her back to my place. She asked for another brandy. When I left, she was listening to Moonlight Sonata and crying even harder.”
“Moonlight Sonata.” Damn. What story would she make up listening to it now? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be the same as the other day. It’d be one giant Shakespearean disaster.
He took another slug of whiskey, ignoring the burn in his gut.
“What did you say to her?”
He stared at the fireplace that he’d restored, having sourced the tiles from all around the area. He fucking loved that fireplace. Loved working with his hands. Loved everything about this place, and loved the woman who wanted to tear it down.
“Told her I loved her.” He huffed bitterly. “I moved back to the country to get away from money-hungry workaholics, and I ended up falling for one.”
Ainsley’s mouth hung open.
“To quote my ma, you’ll catch flies with your mouth open like that.” He tried for a smile, but his heart, his mind…shite, nothing was in it.
“Is that the first time you’ve told a woman you love her?”
He thought he might have been close a couple of times to being in love, but now he knew he wasn’t close at all. If this was love, it hurt like a mother, but it also had his heart beating for the first time.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, worked out like a fucking treat.” He downed another mouthful, then put the glass down. Getting shite-faced would only give him a gutful of acid and regret in the morning. “I told her it was up to her what she did with it, and she left. Seems to be a thing with me.”
“Oh, Callum, I’m so sorry.” Ainsley’s eyes were glassy.
“Christ, don’t you cry, too.”
She gave him a wobbly smile.
He stared into the fire. “It occurred to me tonight, because I’m one dumb fuck, that the thing I fear most is the thing I can’t change.”
“Which is?”
“Loss. Change. People leaving. My father left, Alistair’s gone, you’ll be moving on. I don’t know how long I have Ma for. Now Georgia.”
She got to her feet. “Get up.”
He stood and was immediately pulled into a hug. He hugged her back, holding her harder. It was going to suck without Ainsley around.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said gruffly.
“Now that that’s out of the way, you’re going to sit down and listen.” She pushed him back down in the chair.
He looked up, surprised.
“When you were away in the city building your McMansions, we had buses full of tourists come through. There was a tour group that went bust, but for about six weeks, they’d stop in. People would buy Mavis’s scarves, go to The Grotto, and have a toddle around. It wasn’t a lot of folks, but we enjoyed it. People were enchanted with the town. The hotel was a dump then, as was the pub, but people would have stayed.”
Cold washed through him. “What are you getting at?”
“That change isn’t always a bad thing. I know you want to keep your mum safe, Robert, too, and you’re right—loss isn’t something we can control.” She swatted at her eyes. “Losing Alistair was hell I had no control over, and I wouldn’t take back one minute I had with him. He made me the person I am today.”
“Shite, Ains.” He went to reach out to her, but she put up her hand.
“Change can be a good thing. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we had internet? Mavis could sell scarves and tea cozies in the shape of goats, chickens, or the Loch Ness monster to some upscale boutique in New York. I can see a jar of my Lovesick sauce on a table and three girls secretly feeding it to men they want to notice them.”
Pride shone from Ainsley’s face.
A surge of love for his little town rushed into his heart. Could they pull it off? Have e-commerce without losing what made them a family? Instead of people going to Robert’s house and possibly ripping him off, they could bring him to the pub. Same for his mum. She was aching to come to the pub on her good days and read palms. He worried that it would tax her too much, but was that really his decision to make? Mavis had said he was a white knight wanting to swoop in and save the day. Maybe he did. Maybe by carrying the burden of the town since he’d been back, he’d become the unofficial sounding block. The boy who went to the city and came back a success. It wasn’t up to him to decide what was best for the town and the people. Georgia was right. By trying to hang on to what he valued, he’d overlooked what meant the most. The people.
“Do you think we can?”
Ainsley smiled. “I believe we could try.”
“Aye. I think we could.”
“What about Georgia?”
His hands hung between his knees. “What more can I do? I’ve told her I love her, and I’ve asked her to stay.” He paused, his heart crushing in on itself. “She’s leaving.”
Jesus, he’d miss her. Miss her smile, the breathy way she said his name when she came. Her head on his chest. The songs that woke him up. Her scent of coconut and sunshine. “Some things aren’t meant to be, no matter how much we want them.”
Chapter Fourteen
Georgia sighed and stared out the window at the lush rolling hills dotted with cows.
Cows.
It seemed a lifetime ago that Callum had jumped into her car and helped her park. Her
breath stalled in her lungs when she thought about the big, gorgeous Scotsman with sparkling brown eyes and a smile that melted her. She’d pool against his hard body, and he’d hold her like she belonged.
There was that stupid word again. It kept kicking around her brain.
She belonged to him.
So, acting like a grown-up, she’d hung out at Ainsley’s for the last few days and thrown herself a pity party of epic proportions. She’d asked if Ainsley could pack her stuff and bring her laptop, which she’d done. Callum had come by shortly thereafter and knocked on Ainsley’s door, but she’d told Ainsley she wasn’t feeling well.
I’m pathetic.
She was. Because if she saw Callum she’d probably burst into tears.
All because of three big, slippery words. Eight letters, really, that crowded her heart.
I love you.
She’d sat down with Ainsley, who had become a firm and fast friend. They’d talked about putting in e-commerce so she could sell her Lovesick sauce, and Mavis her scarves. It had generated quite a buzz around the town. Georgia was pleased. These lovely people deserved it. She should have updated the brochure and sent it to her boss, but her heart wasn’t in it. Here she was, salesperson of the year, who had no inclination to open her computer, let alone update a brochure that wasn’t going to change Callum’s mind. Her boss was arriving tomorrow, and she was staring failure in the face.
Ainsley walked into her living room. “Georgia, you’re needed at the pub.”
She blinked then frowned. “Why?”
“I can’t say, but it’s urgent.” Ainsley smiled. “Come on, you’ve been holed up here for days. You’ve got to face him eventually.”
Georgia nodded. “I know, and it’s going to hurt.”
“Aye, but he’s a good man, and he wants to see you before you go.”
“He’s a good person who deserves better than me.” She pulled a tissue from a nearby box. At this rate, she’d be keeping Kleenex in business.
Ainsley cocked her head. “The heart knows what the heart knows.”
Georgia shook her head. “You sound like Grace.”
Ainsley grinned. “The amazing kind?”
“Yeah, the amazing kind.”
“Come on.” She reached for Georgia’s hand.
“Can you give me five minutes? I’m a wreck.”
She didn’t want the last time Callum saw her to be with red eyes, so she changed into jeans and the green sweater, pulled on brown boots, added lip gloss, a smidge of mascara, and pinched color into her pale cheeks. She pulled a brush through her hair. The curls she’d hated her entire life had now grown on her. Instead of waterfall smooth, the soft waves added a fullness and body she’d forgotten about. Coupled with the soft water here and lack of chemical enhancement, it shone like a shampoo commercial.
She walked out of Ainsley’s spare room to find her waiting by the front door, holding out a jacket. A soft mist hung in the air.
“Come on before it rains.”
“I don’t mind the rain. I used to hate it when I first came, but I’ll miss the sound of the rain on the roof at night when I’m snuggling…”
She let that thought go before she had another private weather event.
“You don’t have to go,” Ainsley said for the hundredth time.
“I do.” Georgia fought the wobble in her voice and failed.
On a long sigh, they walked into the pub. The scent of The Rose and Thistle was as familiar as her favorite perfume.
Leonard pulled her straight into a hug. “I’m going to miss you, lass. I thought you were staying. Pulled out my old suit for ya wedding to Callum at The Grotto.”
As soon as she was released, Wendy, one of the mothers she’d talked to at the bakery, presented her with a sign on how to cross the road. Everyone she knew had autographed the back. Mavis plonked a beanie on her head. Georgia pulled it off and read the inscription. The heart knows what the heart knows.
Grace, Ainsley, now Mavis had all told her this.
“Listen to your heart, and you’ll never go wrong, lass.”
She swallowed over an ever-growing lump in her throat. “What if your heart is wrong?”
“The heart is never wrong.”
Mavis hugged her, then handed her a tea cozy in the shape of a goat.
“Oh, it’s Delilah.” She blinked away tears.
“Aye, and this is to keep the cold out.” She wrapped a scarf around her neck. “I thought you’d stay. You fit in here, and you fit with Callum.”
Before she could answer—if she could, because she was sure her voice was a raw husk—the woman who owned the bakery handed her a pot of jam. “Strawberry.”
“My favorite,” Georgia whispered.
“Are you sure you want to leave? You’re like family to us.”
Ainsley slipped her arm around Georgia’s shoulders. “I don’t think you need this, but…” She placed a jar of her Lovesick sauce on a table.
“She doesn’t need it.”
Standing in front of her, wearing a red, green, and blue kilt, was her dream man. A black leather bag hung from his waist, long black socks and black leather boots on his feet. A white dress shirt stretched across his shoulders.
Time stood still.
“Didn’t think you should leave without seeing my kilt,” he said, his brown eyes tinged with sadness.
Her heart and lungs folded themselves over and over, until she couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe.
He leaned forward and his spicy scent engulfed her.
“Do you want to see what’s underneath?”
A half sob tore from her.
“Stay tonight—just tonight—and I’ll show you.” He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against hers. Before she could react, he picked up a lock of her hair. “Love your hair like this, all wild and unpredictable, like you.”
“You won’t change your mind?” Damn, her voice wobbled even harder.
“About you? Never. About the hotel? No.”
The softness on his face, the feel of his lips on hers, undid her. The kindness of the town and its beautiful people were now part of her. She glanced around at the gifts, the people. Robert Bruce waved to her from a table. Callum’s mom, who sat at a table with Maud.
A ball of emotion expanded in her chest and landed in the room on a loud hitch, and Georgia burst into tears.
“Ah, Corporate, come here.” Callum’s arms wrapped around her.
I love him. I love this town. I love everyone in it.
She clung to him. Could she trust herself to stay?
Will I hurt him when I want to leave in a year? Stare into his beautiful face and hurt the man I love?
It would kill her.
She buried her head against his neck and he picked her up, shielding her from the cold air that soon smacked her face. She burrowed into him, unable to do anything but cling to her lifeline.
He kicked open the door of the hotel and placed her in the chair by the fire in the reception of the hotel and knelt before her.
“You’re going to dehydrate.” He cupped her chin with his hand.
She tried to smile.
“Someone’s missed you.”
Hello Kitty made a beeline for her and landed on her lap. She swatted Georgia’s face with a paw, turned a couple of circles, then curled on her lap, purring.
Georgia ran her hands up and down the animal’s soft coat. “Hey, baby girl, I’ve missed you, too.”
Callum stood and sighed. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back.”
She nodded, her throat still too raw. Besides, what did she have to say? “I love you, but I’m leaving to chase the corporate dollar?” “I’m using myself as an excuse not to stay because I’m scared of hurting you?”
“Georgia?”
She looked up, having been lost in thought.
“I missed you, too.” He headed for the door. “I’ll be late, but there’s something I have to do.”
The door closed b
ehind him, leaving her to her thoughts, and boy did she have a lot of them.
She picked up Hello Kitty, carried her to her bedroom, and deposited her on the bed where she curled into a ball. Georgia pulled on one of Callum’s T-shirts, exhaustion stealing over her the second she hit the bed. Sometime later, she was pulled into two strong arms, the softest lips in the universe kissed the back of her neck, and the word sleep was whispered into her ear.
She woke before “California Love” by Tupac blasted into the room. She turned the alarm off, and surprised herself by sleeping an extra two hours. At eight o’clock, she kissed Callum, who stirred but didn’t wake.
Her day of reckoning had arrived.
She went for a walk, away from town, to clear her head, still playing the coward in case she saw anyone and burst into tears all over again.
The walk didn’t clear her head at all. When she arrived back at the hotel an hour later, Callum wasn’t there. His Jeep was, though, so she assumed he was at the pub.
At ten she heard a car pull into the car park. Since she was the only one staying, it had to be her boss. Because of the lack of internet, she had no idea what time Amanda would arrive.
A dull cramp burrowed deeper in her stomach, rebelling at the thought of food and even stranger, coffee.
“Amanda. Hi.” Georgia stepped outside and hugged her boss.
A brisk wind whipped her boss’s tightly coiled bun. “Georgia, so good to see you.” High-end fragrance engulfed her. “This is exactly what I pictured. The brochure was stunning.” She turned a circle with an appraising eye. “We have to work on the issue of the internet, but this place is gorgeous.”
“It is.” She pressed a palm against her aching chest.
“Paperwork intact?” Amanda asked. “I know you want to leave.” Her boss smiled. “You’ve got more stamps in your passport than anyone I know.”
Why didn’t that make her instantly smile when it would have before…
Before Callum.
Why was she staring at her feet?
“Don’t look now, but there’s a hot Scotsman walking toward us. He’s the one from the brochure, right?” Her boss sighed. “I need a vacation, in Scotland. He’s gorgeous.”
Ten Days With the Highlander Page 15
