Some Like It Scot (Crescent Cove Book 1)

by Marlie May

  “That’s beside the point. All this.” Her voice broke as her hand flapped to the folder I squeezed so tightly, the paper puckered. “Why didn’t you tell me? These are big parts of your life. Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”

  “You don’t sound very understanding at the moment.” Why wouldn’t she let this go? A tiny voice inside me reminded me that I’d been prepared to bare my soul to her tonight, but I pushed it aside. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. It’s…there’s a side of you I didn’t know existed.”

  The part I kept from the world. From her. Tension coiled through me, combining with my horror about my father, and I tossed the folder onto the sideboard and sat in the chair opposite her. I kept seeing my dad—

  “When were you going to tell me?” she asked.

  I scrambled to find a way through the dark, endless cavern I found myself in. “It would’ve come up eventually.” Tonight, if things had gone as I’d planned.

  “You kept things from me. Let me believe…” Her breath choked. “While I told you everything. About Ted. What he did. How I’ve a hard time trusting anyone since. I opened myself up to you completely, while you held big parts of yourself back.”

  “It’s not like that.” Why was she twisting this around, pinning it on me? Yeah, I’d kept these bits of myself private, but everyone hid things. I would’ve told her when the time was right.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t have doubts earlier. Doing odd jobs for Roan doesn’t generate enough income to donate thirty thousand dollars, no matter how good the cause.” The laugh she released contained all the mirth of a funeral. “I’ll say one thing. A boyfriend with money is a new one for me. At least you never asked me to pay for dinner.”

  I couldn’t help being peeved by that comment, and I growled out, “I’m not like that asshole you dated before.”

  The keening sigh she released made my gut clench tight. “I believed I could handle just about anything you might say or do, but I didn’t think I had to ask for honesty.”

  I scrubbed my face with my palms, too overwhelmed with anger at my father to defend myself. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “Of course, you can’t. No one ever can.” Her shoulders hunched forward as if someone had stabbed her in the chest. “When you paid for Cally, I worried you wouldn’t have enough money left for your light bill or to buy gas for your car. Instead, it seems like cash flow is the least of your concerns.”

  Ice was forming inside me, and I couldn’t see straight enough to find my way past it. “It’s just money.”

  “It’s not about the money. It’s about sharing yourself with me,” she said. “I made you lunch, worried you’d be too strapped to buy it yourself.”

  I’d enjoyed her sandwich while working on my book.

  “And the house? Why didn’t I see it? I was afraid the cops would arrest us for trespassing whenever we went out there. You let me believe you were like me, scrambling to find a way to survive.”

  The weight of her words buried me. I sputtered, unable to find a way above the surface.

  “I was going to suggest you do something with your degree to give you more financial security. Maybe teach at the college.” Disappointment came through in her voice as she flung her arms into the air. “Run reenactments or Celtic Festivals. I don’t know.”

  Lines of pain filled her face, but a worm of irritation inside me suggested she had no right to feel this way. I’d never made promises. I was entitled to keep secrets. And now she was implying I wasn’t good enough the way I was. “There’s nothing wrong with being a handyman.”

  “Did I ever say there was?”

  “Not to my face. But you thought it, didn’t you?”

  Her haunted eyes spoke volumes.

  “You should know I’m not really a handyman or a carpenter,” I said, coming clean even though I knew it was too late. Something was dying inside me. I tried to grab hold of what we’d had but it kept slipping away. I could only see red. I hated what this was doing to Lark. What I was doing to Lark. “I just help Roan sometimes. It’s not my real job.”

  “Have you been honest with me about anything?”

  Whatever I said would only be more damning, so I remained silent.

  “You lied to me,” she whispered.

  “By omission only. You ran with your assumptions. I never confirmed them.”

  She yanked on her ponytail. “I don’t get it. Get you.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s been burned. Is it wrong that I want someone to like me for myself, not just because I’ve got money?”

  She listed sideways on the sofa. “You thought I was only interested in you for what you could buy me?” Asked in such a lost tone, I ached to find her, but I couldn’t even find myself. “How can you say that? Did you ever really know me?”

  “I didn’t exactly say that.” I raked my hands through my hair, furious with the situation I’d backed myself into. “There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.”

  “I thought…I guess I don’t know what I thought, but it was never this. In my heart, I felt we had something special.”

  Had. The finality in the word dragged me down into the deepest despair. “Maybe…Fuck, I don’t know anymore.”

  She stared up at the ceiling, blinking fast. “I need to go.” Rising to her feet, she braced her hand on the sofa when she staggered.

  Why was I shredding her apart? I was shit for a boyfriend. Worse even than my father. At least Dad kept his sleaze hidden. I shot mine out in poison arrows. This just proved that love was dangerous. All it did was rip a hole in my chest.

  Lark crossed the room on dead feet and lifted her purse from where she’d set it on the table beside the door. Her fingers fluttered on the knob as she rested her forehead on the frame. “I thought I…loved you.”

  Thought. The L-word sent acid burning through my veins. A pain-filled beast grabbed hold of my tongue and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to yell. Tell her she had no right feeling this way. But I knew my anger was directed at my father, not Lark.

  “I think we should take a break,” I said bleakly. Everything inside me shouted no, but all I could see was my father with that other woman.

  “You’re breaking up with me.” She wrenched the front door open. “I’ve got to leave.”

  Standing, I grabbed my keys from my pocket. “I’ll take you home.”

  Pushing away from the door, she wrenched on the knob. “I’ll walk.”

  My frustration rang out in my exhale, driving through the thick air between us. “That’s stupid. I’ll take you.”

  “You’re right. I was stupid. But not any longer.” She whispered, “Never again.”

  It was dark out. Something bad could happen to her. The thought of her walking along the road for three miles…someone could hurt her.

  Like you’re hurting her.

  But she must’ve known this couldn’t last. Nothing ever lasted.

  We didn’t speak as I drove, but my brain couldn’t stop repeating the same words over and over again. We were done. This was the way it had to be. Her silence wrenched through my insides. I drummed up more irritation to keep my torment from shredding me to pieces.

  My father kissing that other woman kept rising up like a specter in my mind. When Mom found out, it would hurt her all over again. And I’d have to watch it unfold like I’d done when I was a teenager.

  Returning home after dropping her off, I dragged my feet down the hall to my office. It was past time to get back to the life I had before I met Lark. My deadline needed to be fed. I only had one week to get the book to my editor.

  I was a fool for letting feelings get in the way.

  Opening the document, I wrote the declaration scene the way I wanted to. Typing words onto the page while my heart twisted into a dull mass in my chest. I wrote what needed to be said. Because love was loss, and I was determined never to let it into my life again.

  When th
at chapter was finished, I worked on the next. I kept going until dawn, finishing the book. Staring at The End, I sighed and yanked on the hair I’d get cut later today. Damn curls Lark had loved needed out of my life.

  Don’t think about the look on her face when you told her it was over.

  I crossed the hall, stripped, and crashed on top of my bed.

  Restless, I bunched my pillow into shape and tried to tell myself this was the way it had to be.

  But I couldn’t keep pretending. I missed her already.

  Lark

  “I hope you learn what love is someday,” I whispered.

  Holding my pain inside, I didn’t watch through the window when he headed down my road, when his taillights flashed at the stop sign, or when he drove out of my life forever. After, I slumped against the wall, my heart crying, no more kilts.

  Love was loss. Love was pain. Love was the most wonderful thing in the world.

  In Never Mock A Highlander, Duncan and Lenore had met up in the moors. In his letter, he’d hinted he had news. Lenore had expected a declaration of love, that Duncan would say he’d finally found a way they could be together. Instead, he told Lenore they could no longer see each other, that he would marry another.

  If Lenore had learned nothing else, she knew life only brought loss. Her mother. Her sister. Now, Duncan.

  No doubt, he expected her to cry. Shriek. Or beg him to stay. Instead, she showed him indifference, the only thing hers left to give. Leaping onto her mare, she drove the animal across the moor.

  A thousand storms raged inside her, scattering her in all directions.

  I couldn’t believe Dag lied to me. Had any of what we shared together been true?

  Chest tight, I walked slowly down the hall to my room and dressed in my PJs. My tartan—no, Dag’s tartan—hung on a hook on the back of my door. Ripping it off, I flung it across the room, where it slashed across the carpet in a plaid streak. I dropped on the bed and rolled onto my back. Street lights stabbed across the ceiling and into my eyes, making them water.

  He didn’t love me. He’d never loved me.

  I’d made such a horrible mistake. I’d let myself believe a man could feel something for me in return.

  I slid to the floor and retrieved the tartan. Curling up on my bed again, I lifted the cloth to my face, my breath shuddering through lungs pinched so tightly, I couldn’t breathe.

  Eyes closed, I inhaled the hints of sunshine. The sweetness of the blueberry bannock I’d eaten yesterday.

  And the fading scent of my shredded dreams.

  * * *

  The next day, I hauled myself out of bed and took charge of my life. Falling into sadness was not an option. No man was going to drag me down again.

  Sitting at the kitchen counter with a strong cup of coffee nearby, I filled out eight job applications. Only one of the positions was in Crescent Cove, unfortunately. The others were in the bigger city of Farland, a thirty-minute drive away. I’d hate the travel, but I needed to find full-time hours.

  The next evening, Paisley emerged from the house and paused where I sat reading on the deck. Needing a break from my Highlander books, I’d boxed them up and shoved them onto the top shelf of my closet. Today, I’d read a mystery. I planned to keep reading mysteries, far into the foreseeable future. Any genre would do as long as it didn’t hold a trace of romance.

  My laughter spurted out of me when I saw my sister.

  Paisley flared her arms away from her body and glanced down, her brow knitting. “What?”

  “You’re mowing the lawn, not heading into the swamp for a hike during black fly season.”

  “I want to cover all my bases.”

  “That’s a lot of bases.”

  Paisley wore pants, a long-sleeved shirt with a high collar, sneakers, gloves, a broad hat, and she’d looped noise reduction headphones around her neck.

  I dropped my book onto the table. “Let me do it.”

  “Nope.” With a huff, Paisley pushed me back into my seat and handed me my book. “You need to bask in the glory of your recent Highland Games victory. I’m the lawn mower in this family, now.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  Paisley smirked and started down the steps.

  “Don’t forget to fill the tank before you start,” I shouted after her.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  In minutes, the mower roared and Paisley began her back and forth journey in her quest to cut our lawn. Sometime later, she stomped back up onto the deck, smelling of grass. A decent wind had picked up, and the gusts had not been my sister’s friend today. Chaff covered her from the top of her head to her toes. But her eyes gleamed and her cheeks had pinkened from the sunshine. She looked healthier and happier than I’d ever seen her.

  “I’m going to peel this stuff off.” She held her shirt away from her chest and coughed when chaff puffed in the air.

  “Drinks in a half an hour on the veranda?” I asked with my best French accent. After I poured, I’d get out a block of cheese and some crackers. The wine was fruit. Cheese was protein. And the crackers were grains. It was a complete meal.

  Paisley’s nose lifted, and she pursed her lips. “That sounds delightful, my dear.”

  I helped Cally do her thing outside. The vet had been right, she’d adapted. Sure, her gait was awkward; it had to be hard hobbling around on three legs. But, from the way she zipped across the back yard, it was clear that the cast didn’t slow her down much.

  After, I put her back on her bed and gave her extra pats. Because I couldn’t help it, I sat beside her and gave her a good brushing, making her wiggle and sigh and beg for more. Then, we shared doggie kisses.

  In the kitchen, I took down our good stemware and grabbed the wine box from the cupboard above the fridge. This might be a more-than-one-glass kind of night. After putting everything outside on the deck table, I returned for snacks, throwing some carrot sticks and ranch dressing onto the platter, to enhance the “meal” with a serving of vegetables.

  A few minutes later, Paisley groaned as she settled into a chair across the mini table from me.

  “Shall I pour?” I asked.

  “Make mine a tall one.”

  Shortly after eight, and it still wasn’t fully dark out. This time of year, we’d be able to savor the day for another hour, before the sun disappeared from view.

  We sat back in our chairs, sipped our wine, and listened to the frogs croaking in the woods nearby. Other than the distant whirr of a lawn mower—someone else taking advantage of the cooler part of the day to mow—it was quiet.

  After eating a carrot, Paisley reached across the table to still my fingers that were fidgeting with the base of my wine glass. “When were you going to tell me you and Dag broke up?”

  The question shouldn’t make everything inside me flinch. I’d moved on from him. But it still stabbed deep, unleashing anguish all over again as if it had only been seconds since I’d confronted him and he said we were through. Through. I snorted. Had we truly ever been together? Or had that been a lie, too?

  I pulled my hand away from Paisley and used it to lift my wine for another, much-needed taste. “I don’t understand. Why did he chase me for so long? Was I just a game for him?”

  Why was I never good enough for anyone?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s an ache inside me that won’t go away.” My voice shuddered, and no matter how many times I swallowed, a lump remained in my throat.

  Paisley rose and came around the table to stand in front of me. She tugged me to my feet and pulled me into her arms. Saying nothing, just sharing warmth. Something I needed more than words.

  I dragged a breath through a chest wedged tight. “The pain doesn’t stop. How do I make it end?” Please, make it go away.

  “I don’t think you ever can. Not fully.” Paisley’s shoulders drooped as she released me. She stroked my cheek, and the warmth and sympathy in her gaze sunk through me like a second hug. “But over time, it’ll be easier to forget
.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.” How to leave this wrenched feeling behind me.

  “Sometimes, the worst things in life happen for no reason. All you can do after is put one foot forward and hope the other will follow,” she said. “One day, you’ll turn around and look back down the road you’ve traveled and realize that you have to squint to see the memories. You might even smile about some of the better ones.”

  I wasn’t sure that could ever happen, but Paisley was right. I could only move forward, leaving much of myself behind.

  We sat and toasted our glasses. Two souls searching for happy endings.

  “He’s a jerk and you’re better off without him if he’s going to treat you like that.” Paisley grunted and smiled evilly. “You want me to take out a contract on him?”

  Leave it to Paisley to have my back. “Courts give you life for something like that.”

  “I’ll get a good lawyer.” After nibbling on a piece of cheese, Paisley said, “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

  Yeah. I was sorry, too.

  Dag

  As if Dad thought he’d be welcome at my home, he came knocking on the front door Friday afternoon. He entered my house and even doled out his usual—obviously traitorous—hug. Which I did not return.

  “Okay,” Dad said, stepping back. He ran his hand across his graying hair, smoothing it. “Well.” With a grunt, he waved toward my living room. “Got a few minutes to talk? I had a different idea for your mom and my anniversary that I wanted to run past you.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Dad’s grin slid. “Is this a bad time?” Peering around me, my father sought…who knew what he sought. Not a woman. It wasn’t as if I was cheating.

  Not that I had anyone to cheat on now.

  Taking my silence for consent, Dad shut the door and bustled past me. “You seem upset.” Hustling toward the kitchen, he said over his shoulder, “Let’s park out back on your deck, and you can spill the beans. Then I’ll share my idea.” He stopped at the fridge and opened it to peer inside. “What’s up with you, boy? No beer? Guess I better stop by the supermarket and stock you up the next time I’m out this way.”