Scandalous Scotsman: A Hero Club Novel

by MJ Fields

  Heart racing so loudly that it’s all I can hear, I cover it with my trembling hands.

  “Ms. Bloom.”

  Still holding my heart, I look left and see that his normally clean-shaven square jaw has been unshaved since last I saw him and is now covered in a thin layer of chocolate brown, silky scruff.

  “Ms. Bloom?”

  He stands there, and I see muscular pecs, bigger than my boobs, also lightly dusted with hair, the most spectacularly sculpted abs, the V, and a tattoo. But not just a tattoo, a tattoo of a scorpion, ready to sting, pointing toward his …

  My door is opened, and he leans in, reaching over me and throwing my car in park. “Are ye well?” He leans out, still bent over, his eyes narrowing as he asks, “Can ye speak, Ms. Bloom?”

  I nod and exhale, “Lizzie.”

  “Where are ye hurt?”

  “What?” I ask in confusion.

  “Ye screamed and stomped yer brakes. Where are ye hurt?”

  “My door didn’t open.” I shake my head, trying to get my shit together.

  He narrows his eyes.

  I sigh. “My garage door didn’t open.”

  He cocks his head to the side.

  “I almost ran into my garage door, so I got scared.” I turn in my seat and start to step out. “That’s why I screamed.”

  “Where’s yer boot?”

  “What?” I ask as I stand.

  “Yer. Boot.”

  “You have a one-track mind, Dr. Stewart,” I huff as I shut my door behind me, turn to open the back door, and lean in to grab it.

  “Aye, and ye should keep yer eyes ahead of ye instead of scanning the neighborhood.”

  “It’s not every day you see a half-naked man below sixty jogging down Terrace Drive.” I turn and see him eyeing my ass. “It’s not any larger than the last time you examined it, Dr. Stewart.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind,” I grumble as I bend down to put my foot in the boot.

  “Ms. Bloom, if I crossed a line—”

  “You’ve crossed many,” I huff as I strap the Velcro closures, then sidestep him, heading to the front door.

  “Ms. Bloom,” he calls from behind me.

  “Just leave me …” I turn to finish my sentence when I see several people, all of the female persuasion, some jogging and some walking their dogs, all looking at him and me, and for the sake of not bringing any more attention to myself —a misfit of this community already— I tell him, “Good day, Dr. Stewart.”

  I punch the code in, open the door, walk inside my house, and then close and lock the door behind me, taking a deep breath and gathering my wits about me. Then I hurry through the kitchen to head out to the garage.

  As soon as I open the door, I see he has managed to drive my car into the garage, park it, and is getting out.

  Christ, he’s beautiful.

  I run my hand over my face to once again try to get myself together, which seems to be nearly impossible with him, but I’m pissed off now.

  “How did you get in my garage?”

  “Apparently, ye need to push the open-door button in order to actually open the door,” he answers, clearly amused but hiding it well.

  “Bullshit,” I snap.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I got yer car in yer garage, didn’t I?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Prove it.”

  “Prove it?”

  “Close it.”

  “Are ye serious, Ms. Bloom?”

  I take the two steps down into the garage to prove to him just how serious I am.

  Seeing this, he leans in the door and hits the button.

  When the door starts to descend, my ego deflates right along with it. I look over at him as he holds back a smile and the door stops.

  I turn and look at the door and can’t help laughing. “See? I told you.”

  “Aye, so ye’re pleased with yerself, are ya?”

  “Yes, yes, I am. Better than you assuming I couldn’t think straight when I saw all that”— I wave my hand up and down toward him— “jogging down the street.”

  When he laughs, I couldn’t stop smiling if I wanted to.

  To hide it, I turn and face the door that is less than a quarter of the way closed and sigh when I see a bunch of the neighborhood women in the mouth of my driveway, chatting amongst themselves, and roll my eyes as I look back at him and nod toward his fan club. “You shouldn’t be hanging out here. You’ll alienate your chances with the entirety of the desperate housewives in the neighborhood.”

  He shakes his head. “Never worried much about what others thought of me. Not planning to start now.”

  “You don’t say?”

  His lips twist up.

  When my eyes, that have been holding steady on his stunning green ones and his sinfully sexy smile, drift down, he clears his throat. When I look up, his brow is arched.

  I arch mine back. “Why the scorpion? Is it your sign or something?”

  He cocks his head. “My what?”

  “Astrological sign?”

  “No idea what my sign is, Ms—”

  “Lizzie.”

  He counters, “Elizabeth.”

  I don’t normally like the use of my full name, but I allow it, because I kind of love the way he says it.

  “So, why the scorpion?”

  He crosses his arms and his brows furrow. “What do ye know about Scots, aside from what ye’ve learned from the show ye get yerself off to?”

  I feel my eyes widen and imagine they’re popping out of my head.

  He shrugs like he did not just bring up one of the most embarrassing moments in my life as he leans in and looks at the garage door opener, pulling it off the visor. Then he continues talking as he walks to Dad’s workbench, “Americans ask questions we Scots wouldn’t dream of asking on a first meet. Like what do ye do for a living, are ye married, what clan are ye from, have ye watched Braveheart.”

  I watch him open a few drawers until he finds what I assume he’s looking for.

  “Ye generalize. Not all men are Jamie Fraser, Elizabeth. Not all are virgin kilt-wearing, freedom-screaming warriors.”

  He stops and looks back at me. “Ye have four triple A batteries?”

  Unable to form the word no, I shake my head.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “I can go get—”

  “I’ll be back,” he cuts me off as he ducks under the partially closed door.

  I see him nod and wave, see him say something to the housewives as he walks by, but what I don’t see is him stopping to chat. He keeps going.

  As soon as he’s across the road, all eyes are on me. Sissy waves to me and smiles. If this was the first time that she did that, I would have ignored her, but it’s not. Out of all five of them, she’s the only one who has ever acknowledged me, so I lift my hand to her.

  When the others wave, I turn my back. I don’t care if they think I’m being a bitch or if they think I didn’t see them.

  Bunch of bitches.

  In less than five minutes, Dr. Stewart, no longer shirtless but wearing a white tee-shirt, jogs across the road, holding Fraser to his chest.

  “Oh my God, he’s adorable,” Margie cries out like she’s never seen a cute dog in her life.

  He nods and sets him down without a leash, and continues walking toward the garage.

  “Come here, little baby,” Margie says, squatting down.

  Fraser— I mean Scotch— looks at her, raises his little nose, and continues trotting behind Ethan.

  He holds up the package. “Got eight. Put four in yer car’s compartment in case ye run into the same problem again.”

  “Thanks.” I squat down and hold out my hand. “Hey, Scotch.”

  He runs up and allows me to pet him.

  I look up and see the unwanted visitors at the mouth of my driveway begin to scatter and can’t help laughing.

  When I hear the sound of my door, I pick Scotch up and scratch under his chin, worried it
may scare him and he may take off and get squished by the closing door.

  “He likes ye.”

  I look over at Ethan and nod. “He’s got good taste.”

  He chuckles as he opens the car door, setting the batteries inside and putting my opener back on the visor.

  “As do I.” He shuts the door and walks around the car toward me. He stops and crosses his arms, causing his biceps, pecs, and even his shoulder muscles to bulge in unison. “Yer beauty isn’t lost on me, Elizabeth.”

  Holy. Shit.

  “But I’m not yer type.”

  I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does.

  He narrows his eyes. “Ye have an innocence that would be ruined by what I’d demand of ye.”

  Tingles.

  “Add to it yer address and attraction be damned.”

  I swallow hard.

  “I’ve not time for a relationship and no desire in my flesh nor bones for romance. Ye mentioned trying to find a mate. I’m not him. What I will offer ye is a house call when ye’re too stubborn to do what’s best for ye, and a neighbor who will look out for ye when need be.”

  I try to act like that didn’t sting, but on a scale of sweat bee to red ant, it was a red ant kind of sting.

  “Would ye see us out, Elizabeth Bloom?” He nods toward the open door leading to the kitchen.

  I nod, turn, and walk to the stairs, holding Scotch close to me as I go.

  When I take the first step up, he grips my elbow and I feel not just tingles, but the electricity leaving him and entering me.

  “Easy, Elizabeth Bloom. Wouldn’t want ye to hurt yerself.” His voice is huskier than before, his slightly rolled Rs more pronounced, and his words sharper.

  As I walk to the front door, I try to think of what to say to him so that this isn’t any more awkward than it is right now, but when he steps out and holds his hands to take Scotch, it’s the total opposite of what actually happens.

  “You can have your dog when I’ve said my peace.”

  “It’s not necessary,” he practically growls.

  Ignoring him, I continue, “I have needs.”

  His jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare.

  “And contrary to what you think they are, I need to point out what should be obvious to you already. I’d rather watch a movie on my couch with a glass of wine alone and a guaranteed orgasm over a false promise of a happily ever after from men who think that’s what I want to hear. I never said I want to find a mate; that’s an assumption you made based on me calling you out on the dating app —”

  Through his teeth, he sneers, “I’m not on a fucking dating app.”

  “As soon as this door shuts, I will be.”

  His eyes widen, and his lips form a tight line.

  “I haven’t been physically fucked in my entire life by a man who looks at me like you’re looking at me right now, and there’s nothing more I want than to feel that kind of carnal desire. Tell me, Doc, what’s so untouchably innocent about that?”

  “I need ye to hand over da dog and shut yer mouth, Elizabeth Bloom, or I’m gonna bend ye over and—” He snaps his jaw shut then sputters in what I assume is Gaelic.

  I cut him off, “Take your dog and do so knowing that’s a one-time offer, because I’d like to remember I’m still a woman and my desire is for a man who isn’t afraid to admit he wants to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck him.”

  I see fire in his eyes as he takes the dog and steps back.

  As soon as I shut the door, my whole body trembles and my hands shake.

  What did I do?

  Tonya, I blame Tonya.

  I hurry to the garage— well, as fast as one can actually hurry with a boot on—and nearly fall down the two steps—no Legos to blame this time — open my door to my car and grab my cell from my purse.

  Hands still shaking, I hit her name near the top of my favorites list, noting it will now be moved to the bottom.

  When she answers, I say the first thing that comes to my mind, “I’m going to kill you.” In a rush, I then tell her exactly what just went down and what I said.

  “You said what?” Tonya bursts out in shocked laughter.

  “Do not make me repeat myself.” I walk inside the house.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Tonya says, still sounding shocked.

  Walking back into the house, I whisper, “Yeah, well—”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t think of this as a failure when it’s anything but. You made huge strides today. I mean, this coming from a woman who walked into her house and saw her husband with a bitch she thought was her friend in bed. You didn’t go completely insane and Lorena Bobbitt him then Tonya Harding her. You snuck out. You let it go for weeks. Only after you lost—”

  “Don’t, please.” I couldn’t bear to revisit blow three.

  She sighs and rephrases. “Only then did you confront it, and then you told them both it was probably your fault—”

  “Don’t remind me, okay?”

  “Then don’t second-guess what you just did. Not ever.”

  “Maybe I was wrong—”

  “Shut your lips.”

  “But—”

  “Zip it.”

  “Tonya, I—”

  “I’m coming over.”

  When I hear the front door open, I laugh. “You’re already here.”

  “No, Lizzie, I’m not.”

  “Elizabeth Bloom!” I hear him boom through my house.

  “Where are you?” she whispers.

  I look around, and whisper, “Bathroom?”

  She giggles. “Brush your teeth and call me tomorrow.”

  “Wait, Tonya. I can’t— ”

  “Call me later, Lizzie. Goodbye.”

  Still Wednesday

  Lizzie

  After brushing my teeth, rinsing with mouthwash, and even doing a quick pit, vag, and butt bird bath, I open my bathroom door to step out and run into a wall of hard, hot, unmovable body, feeling my breath leave me in a gasp.

  With one of his hands, he grabs my waist, steadying me. He wraps the other around my hair and pulls it back, forcing me to look up at him. “I’m a father to a little girl who lost her mother in an accident four years behind us.”

  “I’m—”

  “I’m set to win custody from her maternal grandparents, and she’ll be moving into her new home in three days.”

  “That’s wond—”

  His grip tightens. “She’s not yer concern, but she’s my everything.”

  “I unders—”

  “Is this truly what you want, Elizabeth Bloom? A man to ravage yer body who is tellin’ ye truthfully he can never hold yer heart?”

  I swallow back the emotion caused by his words and allow desire to take hold. Not a difficult transition with him so close. Then, without reserve, I answer, “Absolutely.”

  “I’m a surgeon, Elizabeth Bloom— I help people heal— but I’m warning ye, this happens, I may break ye.”

  Gripping the hem of his shirt, I slowly begin to pull it up. “I’m unbreakable, Dr. Stew—”

  His grip tightens, causing my scalp to prickle, as he closes his lips on mine. “Ethan,” he corrects in a hungry growl.

  His lips surround mine before I even get to call him by his name for what would be the very first time, but all care is lost when he slides his hand down my waist and cups between my legs, lifting me in a way I never imagined being lifted.

  I grip his hair as his velvet tongue slides across my lips and his fingers glide across the fabric of my panties.

  Crying out, my lips part, and his hot, wet, delicious tongue slides between them, caressing my already quivering tongue.

  A whimper escapes me, and then I slide mine against his, eliciting a throaty growl that vibrates through my entire body as he releases my hair, firmly slides his hand down my back, and grips my ass, fingers of both hands flexing, kneading my skin softly. The gentleness in his touch contradicts the way he controls the kiss, devouring me.

 
It isn’t until he’s leaning forward that it registers that, while being consumed by his touch, his scent, his taste, he’s carried me to bed.

  Knowing he didn’t take the stairs, he took me to my parents’ room, I close my eyes so this moment is not disturbed by my surroundings.

  His lips leave mine, and then he pushes up on his knees. When he doesn’t touch me, I open my eyes.

  His voice gruff and throaty, he asks, “Have ye changed yer mind?”

  I close my eyes, inhale, and smile as I shake my head. “Not a chance.” I hook my ankles around his broad back and reach for the hem of my yellow floral sundress, slowly pulling it upward, watching his beautiful green eyes grow darker as his chest rises and falls, heavier and heavier.

  “Tá tú go halainn, Elizabeth Bloom.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I whisper.

  “It is what I said.” He reaches behind him, pulls his tee-shirt over his head, and tosses it aside, and I do the same with my sundress.

  “Christ,” he growls as he leans down, cupping my breasts in his hands, stroking his thumbs across my nipples, and then back again as they harden beneath his touch. “I’m gonna need to fuck yer pretty tits.” He squeezes my nipples, pulling them out, pleasure nearing pain, as he releases one then the other. “But first, I’m gonna fuck yer cunt until ye never threaten me to fuck another.”

  He stands off the bed and unbuttons his shorts as he looks up at me through his sexy, messy waves that have fallen over his eyes.

  I nod and lick my lips as I watch him drop his shorts. They part when I see not only is he incredibly large but uncut.

  As much as I’ve always hated the streetlight right outside this window, I’m now incredibly thankful that Margie complained so much they moved it from her property and, of course, it ended up in front of our house.

  “Wow.”

  He looks up while stepping out of his shorts. Nostrils flaring, he walks to the end of the bed.

  “As much as I’ve enjoyed this boot, it’s time it comes off.”

  I lift my leg, and he takes it off. When his eyes stall on it too long, I wiggle it.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s still too swollen.”

  I shove my thumbs under my waistband and slowly shimmy my panties down. “I’m more interested in other swollen body parts.”