by Marlie May
“Haud yer wheesht.”
Sure. Like I’d gotten that? I waved for a translation.
“Will ye be quiet,” he said. “Please.”
Okay, so I was messing with his wooing business, which was the last thing I wanted to do. With considerable effort, I took on a serious demeanor, one worthy of wooing. But my heart shone brighter than all the stars and planets combined.
He shifted his legs, spreading them wider. “Lark, oh, Lark.”
“I’m here,” I answered sweetly.
His grin widened and he sang, “Lark, oh Lark.”
Pressing my lips together, I nodded encouragement. His poem was cringe-worthy but incredibly cute.
“Lark, Lark, all I dae is think of you.”
“Dae?”
“Dae means do.”
“Okay. Sorry for interrupting.”
He cleared his throat and raked his fingers across the guitar strings again. Somewhere nearby, a cat joined in, howling.
“Lark, Lark, what can I dae? Ye be the maid of my dreams.”
“Maid. That’s like maiden, right?” I asked. “You know I’m not a true maid, right?”
“Lark, Lark, coinneamh mi mas e do thoil e.”
I growled. “I’m not quite getting that.”
“’Tis Gaelic, lass,” he said. “The words are the best I can do fur ye.”
“I think you’re mixing old English into your Scottish. Or you used Google translator.”
He grunted.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
Flipping his guitar to the side, he bowed again. “Go out with me, please.”
“Ah.” I coughed, choking back my laughter. “Should’ve figured.”
His eager eyes turned my way. “Is that a yes?”
How was I supposed to answer that? Everything inside me shouted I wanted this, but I couldn’t give in just because he’d done yet another incredibly sweet thing for me, could I?
As if he sensed my uncertainty, he flipped his kilt, revealing his muscular thighs.
“I…I…” Again, I lost my ability to form words.
“Seems ye cannae decide.” Dag moved within a breath of my lips. “Mayhap ye need a little more persuasion, then, lass?”
How could I resist a Dag who was wild and completely unexpected?
Duncan would never have done something like this. Duncan was modest, proper, and courtly. He was…what was he again?
He wasn’t Dag.
“What do you say, sweetheart?”
I crossed my arms on my chest. “Duncan would never call Lenore sweetheart.”
“Dinnae be so sure about that.”
I shouldn’t soften. Or lean toward him. Or, God, close my eyes.
“Ye dinnae think I’d give up this easy, now did ye, lass?” The huskiness of his voice rippled through my bones. Bracing my shoulders, his lips brushed mine before pressing deeper.
Yep. I was definitely melting. Boiling. Like lava erupting from a volcano. I craved Dag more than hot cocoa on a winter’s day. Even in my dreams, I wanted him.
Leaning over the windowsill, I cupped his neck and opened my mouth, inviting him in. A moan worked its way up my throat, shouting to be heard.
Dag’s tongue slid across mine while his hands moved to my breasts. He stroked me through the thin material, and I gasped. An inferno flared through me, dragging me down, down, consuming me in the flames.
His hands slid underneath my tank, and he molded my breasts, his fingertips bringing my nipples to eager peaks. “Take this off,” he whispered as he kissed my neck and moved lower. “I’ve got to taste you.”
Yes. I needed this. Needed him.
As I lifted the hem of my shirt, someone opened my bedroom door.
Dag stepped back, leaving me gaping. The scowl I threw over my shoulder would’ve impaled a lesser being. It did nothing for Paisley, who strode across the room, grinning.
“Oh, cool. He’s still here.” She dropped to her knees, joining me at the window.
“What are you doing?” My pulse was a raging beast in my chest. Dag had been kissing me. Touching me. I wanted him to do it again.
“This is better than any movie. Do I have time to make popcorn?”
“Go back to bed.”
“And miss this? Not on your life.”
“Then go somewhere else. Where I can pretend you’re not here.”
Paisley’s eyes gleamed with mischief. Leaning closer, she whispered, “Dag looks incredible. If you don’t want him, can I have him?”
“No!”
“Ye do want me, lass,” Dag said. “I kenned it.”
Yes, yes, I did. But I couldn’t say that, now could I? What about my rules? What about his irresponsibility?
What about flying free?
“I believe ye be leaning toward aye.”
Aye, I was, but I refused to admit it in front of Paisley. I bumped my sister’s hip. “Go away.”
“Do I have to?” She stood. “Aww, Mom, I don’t wanna.”
If she didn’t leave, I would scream my head off. “Paisley.”
“Okay.” Like a child, she dragged her feet to the door and out into the hall.
I tried to tell myself the steps continued to the room across from mine, but I had a suspicion Paisley darted toward the front door. Which banged open.
Cally’s shrill barks filled the air, signaling she was on the hunt. Dag, her likely prey.
I loved Paisley, but I’d kill her. I leaped to my feet and raced for the door.
While Cally adored family, she barely tolerated everyone else. She’d peed on Ted’s sneakers more than once, which should’ve told me something. Thumping down the hall, I raced for the front door, ready to protect Dag from our furry defender. I hurdled the deck rail and landed on the grass on the other side. Turning, I leaped forward, praying Cally wasn’t gnawing through Dag’s ankle.
Dag had crouched on his heels and was cooing at Cally. Who’d taken the pose I longed to assume.
On her back.
Limbs splayed wide.
Giving him full access to her body.
Dag
My wooing had gone better than I’d expected. Lark had laughed at my song, which was my goal, and I hadn’t missed her physical response to my kilt. Or my kiss.
Those lips. The realization that I’d tasted them again weakened my knees.
If only Paisley hadn’t interrupted.
After Cally came flying out to greet me, the evening was over. Paisley played chaperone, killing the mood we’d settled into before she arrived. But I could tell by the way Lark grinned as she shut the door that she liked me. I just needed to remain patient.
Writing ten thousand words in my book kept me busy for the next few days. By then, I’d decided patience was overrated. Lark and I had emailed to ensure things were ready for the Games, but it wasn’t enough. I missed her. Seeing her again was a priority, even if all we did was talk about the Games.
Monday morning, I drove out to Roan’s business, Spicy Concoctions. No reason not to hang out for a while and see if my friend needed any of my handyman services. He’d also provide a great distraction.
“Hey. Glad you’re here,” Roan said when I joined him in the back bottling room. He handed me a wrench and a few rollers for the conveyor belts. “These things wear out all the time. You up for replacing a bunch with me?”
I stared down at the boxes filled with stainless steel bearings and tubes. “Absolutely.”
A few hours later, my body humming from the exercise, Roan and I went to the back lounge for a beer. I popped off the cap and drank from mine immediately, not caring if I swilled foam. My loud belch when I came up for air shouted my satisfaction.
Roan threw together a pizza in the tiny kitchen. After it cooked, we sat at a high-top table and chowed through slices like buttered popcorn at the movies.
“Now that I’ve helped you, you can return the favor.” I pulled out the anniversary list Mom gave me and tossed it onto Roan’s pepperoni
-stained paper plate.
Roan unfolded it, and his frown deepened as his eyes slid to the bottom. “What’s this?”
I explained. “A friend helped me with most of it.”
“I love your parents. You can count on me for beer,” Roan said. “Wish you luck with the rest, though. I think you’ll need it.” He chuckled as he stared at the list. “Silver and gold bells? A slideshow chronicling the years since they met? And where do you expect to find a case of the wine they served at their wedding thirty years ago?”
“That’s going to take some investigation.”
“Makes me glad my parents split.”
Roan’s dad lived in Massachusetts, and Roan had spent his weekends alternating with his mom and his dad. His mom was a local lawyer.
Roan’s hazel eyes gleamed with humor. “As the oldest and the heir, I imagine this is your duty. But maybe enlist Gunner for some of these items?”
The slideshow being first on the list.
I’d have to be clever when I asked my brother for help, or he’d see what was going on and slip the noose. Growing up, he got away with more crap than I’d ever dreamed of trying. Mom and Dad had watched me like a hawk. Gunner? Not so much. I’d gotten the feeling I’d worn them out before my brother arrived, because, I was the one who had the strict bedtime, who had to do the dishes because Gunner was too young. While my brother goofed off.
Sighing, I stuffed the paper back into my pocket. “Thanks for offering to provide beer.”
“Any time.” Roan nudged his head to the pocket where I’d secured the list. “Now that you’ve finished your book,” he said. “You’ll have plenty of time to give your parents the party they deserve.”
“I’m not done with the book yet.”
His brows lifted. “Really? Why not?”
“I’m stalled.”
Rising, Roan crumpled and dumped our plates in the trash, then waved to the fridge, but I turned down a second beer. “Stalling’s a new thing for you,” he said as he retook the seat across from me. “Why all the sudden?”
I refused to discuss Lark. My friend ribbed me enough about my social life. If I told him I couldn’t even talk a woman I liked into going out for coffee with me, he’d never let it go.
“How much more do you have to write before you finish?” he asked, leaning over to drop our beer bottles into the returnable bin sitting on the floor at the end of the laminate counter.
“Almost done. About twenty-five thousand words left.” Felt like two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand words lately.
“At least you’ll be able to organize the party in the break before your next book.”
I did have free time coming up, but I wanted to spend it with Lark. Assuming she’d agree to spend time with me.
Roan stood. “Time to get back to the grind.” He slapped my back as he passed. “Appreciate the help, though.”
“No problem.” I needed to go home and stare at my computer screen.
“You want to go out this weekend?” Roan asked. “We could hit a few bars.”
While Roan had been burned by his ex, he wasn’t dead. He’d gone out with a couple women since, but he’d resisted committing himself to anyone new. The second they tried to get close, he ended things. Still mourning the childhood best friend he’d slept with at the end of college. Her name started with a C. Claire? No, Cara.
But this was just another scary reminder of what love could do to a guy.
Lark
Ready to crash, I walked slowly up the walkway after midnight. A table of nine had arrived before closing, eager to top their evening off with full meals.
Turn a customer away once, and you lose them for a lifetime, my boss always said.
Since a coworker cared for her mother with Alzheimer’s and had to relieve her sitter, I’d volunteered to take the table. At least they’d tipped well.
Oh, to be sitting outside on the deck in stretchy pants and a tee, a glass of wine in my hand. A glass in both hands. If Paisley was still vertical, she might be open to cracking a box with me.
Unlocking the front door, I swung it open. “Honey, I’m home.”
Paisley rose from where she’d been lying on the sofa and smoothed cushion marks off her face. “Wow. Some hot date I am. I sat down for a second and fell asleep. People arrive late and decide to order every dessert on the menu?”
“And coffee. A big group.” While the money was welcome, the hours were not. Because I didn’t want to jinx things, I knocked on wood. Hoping—no, praying—I’d get that job.
“I’d love to sit on the deck if you’re up for it.” From the lack of lights outside, everyone else in the trailer park must’ve called it a night. Paisley might want to find her blankets, too.
Paisley strode toward the kitchen. “Nothing like a power nap to perk a girl up. I’ll play bartender.” Reaching into the cupboard, she pulled out two fluted glasses. We bought the cheap stuff, but we classed it up with decent stemware.
I couldn’t wait to stand underneath a hot shower and wash away my frustration. The late diners weren’t to blame, but my muscles ached. With a soft groan, I grabbed some clothing from my bureau. Eau de haddock and fries—the diner’s special—permeated my skin.
Fifteen minutes later, I joined Paisley on the deck. Across the road, a cluster of evergreens rose all the way to the sky as if they strained to touch the moon. Stars winked from behind wispy clouds, and insects called in rolling waves from the trees.
“Dag was something else the other night.” Paisley handed me a glass of wine and slid a napkin with cheese and crackers toward me. Yay, dinner. “And that was some song he came up with.”
“The neighborhood might appreciate it if Dag stuck with his handyman hammer instead.”
Paisley chuckled. “You really don’t mind, though, do you?”
Scooting lower in my chair, I dropped my head onto the back. “Nope.”
“Nice kilt. Nice legs, too.”
Among other things. “In some ways, he’s almost too perfect. I just don’t know.”
“I understand not wanting to take chances. You said you weren’t ready.”
“When you put yourself out there, you get hurt.”
“If you don’t put yourself out there, you won’t find the one who’s meant for you.”
A statement like that deserved more wine. I tiled my head to study Paisley’s face, but only caught her silhouette as she stared at the woods. “You believe everyone has a person they’re fated to be with?”
“I know that fate’s a bitch, but while she’s scrambling to take everything away from you, special things slip through her fingers. You’ve just got to catch them and hold them close.”
“You’re not seeing anyone.” My words came out defensive, because really, why was Paisley pushing this?
“I’m not.” Paisley tipped her head back to take in the moon. “I just haven’t found the right guy yet. But I know he’s out there.”
“Life doesn’t always happen that way.” Not for me, anyway.
“What if it did?”
“You mean insta-love?” In my experience, it always turned into insta-failure.
“Maybe. It can happen.” Paisley clutched my hand, and we shared the moon together. “If you shove every guy away because someone crapped out on you, you’ll be left sad and alone.”
I mulled over my sister’s words. My exhaustion, combined with a floaty feeling from the wine, told me I was too tired to dwell on deep subjects tonight.
We went inside and rinsed out our glasses. Threw our napkins into the trash.
“I’ve got to pee.” I hopped around like a little kid. “Would you let Cally out for me?”
“Sure.” Paisley clapped her hands. “Cally poo? Where are you?”
The little dog climbed languidly from her basket, stretching with each step.
While I was in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth. I headed back to the kitchen to say goodnight to Paisley. “I’ll let Cally in.” I reached for the back door.
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Paisley sat on the sofa, eyes closed, her head tipped back. “Oh, I—”
Tires screeched, and a yelp followed.
No. I froze while dread sent tendrils through me like a plague.
Paisley shuddered. Her stricken eyes met mine. “I’m sorry. I know you always tell me to let her out the back, but she wanted—”
I didn’t wait to hear more. Flinging open the front door, I charged down the stairs and raced for the road, where I collapsed beside my still friend. Oh, no. Please. No. To my left, a vehicle drove off into the night.
“Cally,” I whispered, my fingers straining toward my friend. “My Cally.” She wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t she moving? Lowering my head close the dog’s side, my sobs shook me. What would I do without my puppy?
Cally whimpered. Lifting her head, she directed agonized eyes my way. Help me.
How could I stand it?
Something dark and wet streaked the animal’s side, and her back leg stuck out at an unnatural angle.
Tears traced down my face. “Oh, baby.” I stroked her head. Shifting forward, I kissed her face.
She released a groan and licked me. The dog struggled to rise as if she needed to comfort me more than I needed to comfort her.
Paisley dropped beside me. “Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay.”
“She’s alive.” I ran my fingers down Cally’s back. “But she’s hurt. I don’t know how badly.”
“I’m sorry.” Weeping, Paisley slumped against me, unable to stay upright on her own.
I’d always been there to comfort Paisley, and I wouldn’t deny her now. Wrapping my arm around her back, I kissed her forehead. “It’s okay. Really.”
“I did it.” She sobbed. “It’s my fault. I want to help you like you help everyone else, but I’m a complete failure.”
“Please, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.” If only I had the power to make every wish come true. Then I’d go back in time and start the last twenty minutes over. “We need to get her to the vet.”
Paisley’s teary eyes met mine. “It’s after midnight. They’re not open.”
“They’ve got an emergency line. Go call.”
Her face pinched with purpose, she leaped up and ran for the house.
