Her Scottish Mistake (A Perfect Escape)

by Michele De Winton

  McDashing smiled. “Sounds like you have a great family.”

  “They have their moments,” she said, thinking of the time she convinced her brothers to hide a dead fish in her ex’s hubcap.

  McDashing just stood in the middle of her room, taking up all the oxygen, making her brain practically short-circuit, and Janie wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do next. “Um, so, yeah, are you sure you want to go yet? Do you, I don’t know, want a tea or something? Is that what you drink? Tea?”

  Something in his posture changed, and his shoulders lost a little of their tension. “You know what, a brew’d be great.” He gave her a look that was part smolder and part reach-for-the-chocolate-now-its-the-only-way-to-cope. Who the hell was this guy? And how the hell was he doing what he was doing to her ovaries? “It was a long, late flight,” he said as he threw himself down on the small couch in the corner of her room.

  Stop it, Janie told her traitorous body. This was not what she did. This was not how she reacted, even if he was the hottest thing next to…well, hot porridge. Turning her back on him, she focused on making tea as best she knew how. She only drank it sweet, with ice; surely everyone liked it sweet? But people from England or wherever drank it hot, she knew that much.

  She threw a look over her shoulder, and yep, McDashing was still lounging on her couch. Head back, eyes closed, the robe just open enough to show off his stupid-making chest.

  Double stop it. She turned back to the tea and threw the bag into the biggest mug she could find, added another tea bag for good measure, poured in five spoonfuls of sugar, slushed water into the cup, and smooshed the mess round a few times.

  Was this what people did outside of Little Acre? Met a stranger, went back to their room, he took his shirt off, had tea, and then… A blush tried to ignite the roots of her hair. Just ’cause other people might do it, did it mean she could? Did it mean she wanted to?

  She poked at the tea bags and squished them against the side of the cup once more before taking them out and throwing them in the trash. This was her trip of a lifetime. Once it was done, she had to go back to Little Acre, and her lady bits would likely wither into dust. There were no men in town. None. Not now that her ex, Two-Minute Tom, was happily married to her best friend. She closed her eyes a moment, then sneaked a look at the fine conglomeration of Hottie McHotness on the couch. Meeting McDashing might be a chance to give her Miss Muffin some action. She looked down at her lady parts and took a deep breath. The blush threatened to engulf her whole. Could she actually throw herself on the oatcake-eating beefcake sitting on her couch? Yes, she decided. Yes, she could. Trip of a lifetime, remember?

  “You got a thing for snakes?”

  Damn. Janie turned and saw McDashing with her Common Snakes of Thailand textbook. So much for her dreams of a hottentottie fling then. “I’m a reptile handler. At a petting zoo. Part time,” she added, crossing her fingers hopelessly that he didn’t hate snakes like the rest of the world seemed to.

  “Part time, is it? What do you do the rest of the time? Please tell me it’s something…good.”

  “Good?” How did he manage to make that one word filthy and sexy at the same time? She bit her lip. “What would you classify as good? On a scale of tightrope walking to working in a bank?”

  He grinned and, eep, Janie’s ovaries did a neat little flip, drawing more blood than was strictly necessary toward Miss Muffin. “Please tell me it’s on the tightrope walking end of the scale. I bet you’d look great in Lycra.”

  “Afraid not. I mostly help out with accounts in my pop’s tractor shop. No Lycra required.” She wasn’t lying. That was what she did. Telling him she’d been trying to develop a popular news-science blog for the past five years, a blog that currently forty-two people read, was not the way to win her hot-points. Not her fault that no one seemed to get the incredible connectivity between nature and politics, science and sociology.

  “Shame. Although, snakes. That’s…different. I’ve never met a reptile handler before. I like the way the word sits on your tongue, don’t you? Ssssnake. It’s so visceral.”

  Never in all her time at the reptile park had anyone ever managed to make working with snakes sound so sexy. Janie pressed her lips together to stop herself saying something stupid. He was flirting with her. Definitely. Wasn’t he? Her whole body thrilled at the idea that someone like him would take the time to flirt with her. “I guess it is. A little dangerous even.” She checked him from under her eyelashes. He was watching her. Yuss. She’d done it. She’d flirted. Actually, successfully, pulled out a line. Now don’t ruin it by spilling the fact that you’re going to be stuck in your pop’s tractor shop doing the books when you get back if you don’t start making some money off your blog pronto.

  “How’s that tea coming?”

  “Oh, right.” She snapped out of her self-high-five and grabbed the tea. “I hope it’s okay. I usually only have iced tea.” She walked over, hyperaware of her slightly saggy beach dress over her second-best bikini.

  He took the tea and had a sip, then almost gagged. “It’s…grand,” he said and put it down.

  “Did I do something wrong? Shit, oh no, sorry. Do you want some ice in it? I thought you lot liked hot tea.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’ll put hair on my chest,” he said. “Well”—he stood up—“they might have cleaned my room by now.”

  Janie’s heart gave a little sigh, sagging like her beach dress. That was that, then. She straightened and tugged at her hem. “Sorry again for ruining your shirt. And your shorts. And I hope your phone is okay.”

  He smiled and pulled the phone out of the pocket of the robe. “It’ll be fine. Didn’t get that wet after all.”

  They stood a little awkwardly, and Janie put out her hand. “It was nice to meet you…” She caught herself about to say McDashing. “Bevan.”

  “Aye, and it was…quite the experience meeting you, Janie Milan. Hope you enjoy your time in Thailand. And the snakes.” He took her hand in his, and the contact thrilled up her arm as if she’d stuck a fork into a socket. Janie dropped his hand and took a step back. Just a little one.

  “Do you mind if I borrow your robe? I’ll get housekeeping to bring it back. It’s just that my shorts…” He held up his wet shorts and balled-up shirt, and she shook her head.

  “Oh no, of course. No problem.”

  “Grand, thanks again.” He walked toward the door and put a hand on the doorknob. Then, as if he’d forgotten something, turned, came back to her, and took her hand. He looked her in the eye, stepping closer till she could smell his warm, oaky scent, muted as it was by the heady scent of piña colada. Oh my freaking porridge. Was he going to kiss her? At the last moment, he seemed to think better of it and leaned over and brushed his lips over her hand.

  His lips only whiskered over her skin, but the fork-in-the-socket effect was amplified by ten. Goose pimples broke out over Janie’s skin and she bit her lip, making sure she didn’t open her mouth and spoil her Romance Moment of the Year.

  “I’ll see you around,” he said as he straightened and walked out the door.

  Janie stood there for over a minute, letting the sensation surge through her body. She looked at her hand. Perhaps it was just a Scottish thing. Yep. Perhaps it was. Possibly he was an old-fashioned-gentleman type who liked to come back to women’s rooms, borrow their robes, and then kiss them on the hand. That was the most likely scenario.

  Janie went over to the couch where only a minute ago, Bevan MacGreggor had lounged gorgeously and made her feel ten types of sexy.

  His kiss hadn’t felt all that gentlemanly. Combined with the glint in his sparkletastic eyes, she was sure he had been thinking about kissing her on the lips. And that had felt more like a depth-charge promise to Miss Muffin than any type of Scottish greeting.

  I’ll see you around. That was what he’d said, wasn’t it? Janie gave herself a little hug. They were staying at the same resort. She needed to let her hair down and tick a few
things off her bucket list. What she needed was to break her bad luck record with men and let loose before she headed back to Little Acre. Who knew, perhaps Scottish men found saggy beach dresses sexy. She had the rest of her trip to find out.

  Chapter Two

  “Where have you beeeeeen? Please tell me it was with that big hunka gorgeous you accidentally tipped your drink over? You big holdout. You’ve been giving me this sob story about Two-Minute-What’s-His-Name and then off you go and bag yourself the best catch in the whole resort!”

  Tina practically pulled Janie down onto a deck chair as she demanded answers. The Canadian lifestyle blogger was the first person Janie had met when she stepped off the plane. Discovering they were staying at the same resort and consequently sharing a taxi had opened Janie’s ears to a whole new repertoire of cussing she hadn’t known existed, and she grew up with three brothers!

  “Seriously, girl. If you don’t spill I’m going to track him down and ask him what the hell he’s playing at, seducing such a virtuous slice of apple pie like you.” Tina was relentless. Her husband, Mark, had been supposed to come with her, but had gotten a role on a big film and couldn’t come at the last moment. Seemed Janie was to be Tina’s distraction.

  “Stop it. It wasn’t like that.” Janie pulled at her hem and wondered, again, if she even knew how to make it like that.

  Ooh,ooh, baby, charm me.

  “Seriously? Here? I hate this song.” Janie closed her eyes a minute as the stringy strains of “Baby You My Snake Sister” screeched through the tinny sound system at the Paradise Resort.

  Ooh, ooh, baby, charm me.

  The song was relentless.

  Janie groaned and looked around for something to throw at the nearest speaker.

  “Don’t change the subject. The song isn’t that bad.”

  “Two-Minute Tom sang it outside my window back home for weeks, and when I say he had a voice like a washing machine with a hangover, that’s me being kind.”

  Tina’s face registered sympathy, for about two seconds. “You ain’t in Texas anymore, Dorothy. Here, drink this. It’s not a piña colada, in case, oh I don’t know, that big hunk of gorgeous comes back and you try to get his attention again.” She tipped her head to the side. “He seems a bit familiar. Do you think?”

  “Nope. Unless you mean he looks like a demigod with the body and eyes of Thor and the dark moody scowl of Batman?” Janie shrugged and took a long pull on the mojito. Holy booze fiesta, but that was good. And just like that, the song changed. She looked up at Tina and smiled. Tina was right—she wasn’t in Texas anymore, not even close. The memory of Bevan’s lips brushing over her skin warmed her. “He kissed me on the hand.”

  “On the hand?” Tina waited, clearly expecting more details, but Janie didn’t offer any. “That’s it? You guys were gone for ages. I thought…” She chuckled. “Well, I guess thinking you might have thrown your bikini to the wind was a bit hopeful after your woeful flirting performance yesterday.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair.” Janie cringed as she thought about her terrible seduction skills with the guy at reception Tina had nudged her toward. The guy who turned out to be on his honeymoon. “I flirted with McDashing,” Janie said. “And he flirted back.”

  “If you say so.” Tina grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m here now. You’re gonna get your holiday fling. Even if kissing on the hand is a bit old-fashioned, it shows His Holy Hotness is fair game. And then after that we’re going to work out a way for that blog of yours to get some grown-up action. No friend of mine is going to spend her days stuck in a tractor shop for the rest of her life. Now drink up.”

  The smile felt like it spread over Janie’s whole body like warm butter.

  Ooh, ooh, baby, charm me.

  Janie sat bolt upright, almost spilling her drink again. “You have got to be shitting me.”

  “I’ll have a word with the DJ.” Tina stood up and stalked over to the bar.

  Janie flopped back in her deck chair. The serenade might have been harmless outside her bedroom window when they were together, but after her cheating, lying ex-boyfriend used the song for the background to his engagement announcement email, an engagement to her ex-best friend, Janie’s blood just about went nuclear every time she heard it. The whole reason for bringing her trip forward was to escape the damn wedding everyone in Little Acre, including her, had been invited to!

  Pulling a list out of her bag, she made like Santa and checked it twice, ’cause there was no way she wanted to miss anything off her to-do list. Then she grabbed a pen, added have holiday fling, and underlined it twice for good measure.

  Coming back to Thailand was about as likely as her going running every day, no matter her best intentions. This was it, her actual trip of a lifetime, and it had taken every penny of her savings to make it happen. Sucking at her cocktail again, Janie grinned and thought about Bevan. Tina was right—a kiss on the hand wasn’t exactly nothing. And she was going to make sure it was definitely something. Something unforgettable, if she could manage it.

  …

  “Bevan.”

  McDashing had his back to her at the buffet table the next morning and didn’t turn around. Janie bit on a nail. Was he politely ignoring her, wishing yesterday never happened? Only one way to find out. Two words, girlfriend: Holiday. Fling. She walked over and tapped him on the too-broad-to-be reasonable shoulder.

  “Bevan. Hi.”

  He turned around, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if he was happy or terrified to see her. But then the smile spanned his face, bringing a spark to his eyes that was damn near flammable. “Early breakfast for you too. Jet lag, huh?” he said.

  “No. I just didn’t want to waste any of the day.” She peered at his plate. “Bacon and eggs? Guess that’s proper English fare,” she said.

  “Scottish,” he said, bristling, just as she remembered how much Scotsmen hated being called English. “And you’re having…” He peered at her plate. “What is that?”

  “Chok,” she said, pointing to the white pasty mush in a small bowl on her tray. “And that’s khao khai chiao, at least I think it is. It sure looks like the chili omelet thing in my guidebook. It’s at the other end of the buffet if you want some.”

  Bevan raised an eyebrow. “Chilies for breakfast? Sounds like a right fool idea to me. I’ll leave them to you, thanks.”

  “Bless your heart. I figure I’m not coming back, so I better get as much Thai in me as I can,” she said, and then felt a blush threatening. “I don’t mean Thais in me. You know, I just mean, um, yeah, food. And the local sights. And things…” She trailed off. Idiot.

  But Bevan either didn’t notice or didn’t care about her foot-in-mouth commentary. She tried changing the subject. “Seems like we’ve got the place to ourselves. You wanna join me?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she’d asked. If he didn’t sit with her, she knew 100 percent he wasn’t interested. If he did, but ate his food at superhuman speed, she would know 75 percent he wasn’t interested. But if he joined her, ate like a normal person, they talked, and he smiled more than once, then bam, the stats were in her favor.

  Let it be option three, let it be option three.

  “Sure, be rude not to, wouldn’t it?”

  Yuss. At least it wasn’t option one and she didn’t have to suffer the indignity of having her ego crushed like a June bug.

  He sat and gave her a half smile. What did that mean? Fifty percent interested?

  She watched him as he started in on his bacon and eggs and then realized she was practically staring. Stuffing a mouthful of the white pasty goo in her mouth, she tried not to gag.

  “Delicious?” he asked.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Um, it’s sure different.”

  He chuckled. “That good?”

  “You might like it,” she said. “Seeing as you’re probably used to porridge.”

  “No thanks. They might call it porridge, but that’s no porridge.”

 
She took another mouthful and then gave up, moving on instead to the omelet. Instantly, her inner thermostat shut up shop and ran for the hills. Oh. Shiiiiiit. “Hot hot hot!”

  “Here.” He poured a glass of water and handed it to her, but she waved him off, raced over to the buffet, and came back with a bowl of white rice. After she’d shoveled three large spoonfuls into her mouth, her world came back online in normal color instead of being tinged in fire-engine red. “Rice,” she said at last. “Takes the burn from chili out of food. Water just washes it around more. Read it in my guidebook. Works too.”

  “Good morning. Hope you enjoy?” A young staff member appeared out of nowhere brandishing pamphlets with tourist attractions. “Where are you planning to go today? You booked your daily activities in your package?”

  “Oh, we’re not together,” Bevan said.

  Janie’s heart squeezed a little. Fifty percent uninterested?

  “You came with other parties? I can come back when your partners arrive,” the woman said.

  “No, but thank you,” Janie said as she pulled out a list and put her finger on the square marked out as Trip One. “I want to go to Maya Beach today. On Phi Phi Leh. On the earliest boat trip, I heard that was the best.”

  “No problem. You and partner can go in thirty minutes.”

  Janie looked at Bevan and wished to the moon and back that he was coming with her in thirty minutes.

  “I was planning on going alone, without a partner,” Janie said in a voice that was thinner than she liked. “But I can be ready in thirty minutes, no problem.”

  “No, no. You can’t go alone,” the woman said.

  “But I really…”

  “You can book a separate tour if you like, no problem.”

  “I can’t do that. I don’t have the money. This was supposed to be all-inclusive.”

  “All-inclusive for couples, yes. The costs are too high for singles. The resort activities are for couples only.”

  “What?” Bevan’s voice was abrupt, stern, and every organ inside Janie perked up. Was he standing up for her? “What do you mean couples only? What sort of place is this?”