Charming Scottish Bastard

by Melissa Blue

  “You mentioned that in passing, but I can’t quite believe it.”

  He didn’t laugh. His expression hardened and she didn’t know the man could be so serious. “We fell for each other and hard, but what we loved was what we hoped the other person would be. I never bothered to ask what she thought. She left our boys in the end, and for me, that meant her logic was never sound. But I thought she could be happy living in one place, doing one thing for the rest of her life.”

  She shifted, uncomfortable with his words because although Mia hadn’t started off as a person wanderlust struck, that’s who she had become. Traveling was her passion. How could Kincaid travel, if he had a business to run?

  Baird tutted. “You look so worried. You’re not hearing what I’m saying.”

  “Then be more direct and clear.”

  “Kincaid and Mia love the person standing in front of them. Whatever this is, though it might be ugly right now, will work itself out.”

  Or it could get worse. She met the Baird’s gaze. “I’m not okay with sitting by and letting things work out.”

  “I’ve lived long enough to know to never get in the middle of this kind of fight, unless they ask for advice. Even then, you are risking your neck.”

  “Has that served you well?”

  “I still have my neck, don’t I?”

  The Baird wasn’t all-knowing, no human could be, but living lent wisdom. He was probably right to leave well enough alone, but there was the sour pit in her gut.

  Baird shook his head. “Och, I know that look. Just remember I warned you.”

  Something was off. Grant chalked it up to showing up late and everyone trying to keep all the plates spinning at once. But when he closed the doors for the night and turned, braced for the nightly ritual, Mia was behind the counter with Tasha. Kincaid was nowhere in sight. His suspicions were confirmed when Tasha plied Mia with liquor.

  His limbs weighed a ton, and they hadn’t the moment before. Grant checked the back room and didn’t find Kincaid there. He went upstairs to Baird’s. His brother sprawled on the couch, a pillow over his face. The Baird sat at his kitchen table with a casserole laid out. Grant made two plates and coaxed his brother to come eat at the table with them.

  Kincaid took a bite then sighed. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”

  “Not really, though I can guess you put your foot in your mouth.”

  The Baird scoffed. “He was up to his knee.”

  Grant took a bite then had to stare at his plate. “Who made this? This is good.”

  “Callan,” the Baird said. “He used to be a chef in university.”

  Grant recalled Marcus complaining about that a few years back. His friend had offered to help pay for food or such, and Callan had stubbornly refused. He took another bite of the cheesy but spicy pasta.

  Kincaid said, “She hadn’t complained about a wedding date, and I wanted to know why.”

  Fuck. Guilt pinched at him. “I meant for you to ask her for one, you arse.”

  Baird shook his head. “So this is your fault? I should have known.”

  “Oh, no,” Grant said in his defense. “I am not the one to blame. Anyone with eyes can see she’s waiting for him to wrap his head around the pub and the brewery.”

  “I’m sitting right here,” Kincaid grumbled.

  Baird hushed his brother, and Grant laughed until the man glared at him. Finally, the Baird pointed at Grant. “You should have stayed out of it. And you,” he switched his attention to Kincaid, “stop putting your life on hold for the business. It’ll pass you by if you do. Now eat, the both of you.”

  Underneath the table, Kincaid kicked him. Grant managed to swallow the laugh. They were taken to task like naughty schoolboys. It was the height of ridiculousness, but he didn’t mind as long as his brother was straightened out in the process. And, aye, the rest of the meal was filled with the sound of forks scraping plates.

  After, and likely to make amends to the Baird for being trouble, Kincaid washed their dishes. Grant went downstairs to check on the women. Their voices stopped the moment they heard him on the stairs.

  “It’s just me,” he said.

  They sat at his table with two glasses between them. Mia didn’t look like she’d been crying and Tasha…her, he couldn’t read.

  He gestured his thumb to the stairs. “Baird made dinner.”

  Tasha look to her friend who shook her head. “I’ll bring you down a plate anyway,” she said to Mia.

  Grant balled his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her as she passed him with only a muttered thanks. He watched her disappear up the stairs. He didn’t know what was going on between the two of them. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been in his bed. She’d been laughing or moaning or moan-laughing depending on what he was doing to her.

  How could she walk by him without touching him? Without looking at him with some kind of longing? Why did he feel like the only one being turned inside out?

  Grant breathed then turned his attention to Mia. She’d placed her elbow on the table, her palm propped up her chin as she watched him.

  He asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “Do you really want my thoughts right now?”

  He almost smiled, remembering Tasha asking him why he never feared giving an honest answer. One could learn so much by the type of question a person wanted to ask. “Aye. I do.”

  “I’m thinking whatever this is, it’s not like what happened with Davina.”

  He moved to the chair Tasha had vacated then sat down. “What does that mean?”

  “You had a moment with her—Davina. That imploded for varied reasons. With Tasha, it’s not just a moment. I’ll be honest, it could be my wishful thinking that it’s anything more than a fling. If you guys fall for each other, she might move here. I’ll get my friend back. I think Kincaid has been channeling that same hope. He’ll get his brother for the next forever if you have a reason to stay.”

  He tilted his head as her words dug into him. For months, when Kincaid and Mia had been so new as a couple, he’d worried that Mia would get an itch to leave Scotland. His brother, so in love, would follow. Grant would lose another brother, again. Not once had he considered how Kincaid might have viewed things.

  His brother had left his siblings behind to join the military. Aye, a noble cause but Catholicism and guilt had regular planning sessions on how to be more effective. Kincaid had fallen in love, and Mia being Mia, had helped his brother connect with his siblings again. There was nothing he could do for the lot of them except Grant.

  Grant, who had one foot half out to leave again to be the CFO, the path he had chosen when his siblings had grown up. Of course, Grant’s infatuation with Tasha seemed like a possibility of having family without the complications of apathetic parents and minor siblings. The fact he hadn’t seen that viewpoint meant he had been well and truly distracted.

  His brother wanted him home. Home being wherever Kincaid was.

  Fuck.

  Why wasn’t this situation getting any easier and less complicated?

  Then a thought hit him. A terrible thought. “Do you think…Did he say anything about me being here for your wedding?”

  “The truth?” she said, hurt ringing true in her voice and it made the hair stand on his neck. “I think he’d rather elope than to set a wedding date you can’t make for whatever reason.”

  She might as well have taken a knife, shoved it into his heart, and twisted it a few times. His brother dragging his feet had everything to do with him. Worse, it wasn’t just the wedding. Grant wished his mind could neatly file his brother’s every action under “getting married, lost my shite.”

  The truth was, wherever there were humans and human-made catastrophe, there was someone dealing with upheaval. He could go into a company that was on the brink of bankruptcy and needing to sell anything not nailed down, and then find the person holding it together. Took even less
time to find the person who had fucked it all up. Their life would also be a mess. There was no compartmentalization any longer.

  Mia was the one holding everything together. His brother—Kincaid had upheaval and that pointed directly to Grant being a part-time CFO and a part-time brother who could leave his brother to deal with his new business at a drop of a hat. Baird’s Drunken Barrel was always supposed to be a family business. It couldn’t survive if it wasn’t. He had thought coming in for a few vital months would make a difference and be enough. The money would be enough.

  Grant let out a bitter laugh. “You know my brother very well.”

  “You’re just now realizing that?”

  Maybe. He could be honest with himself and admit some part of him assumed Mia had been swept up in a strong whim of loving his brother. When things became serious, she’d ghost. Grant would be left behind to pick up the pieces. He was wrong. Mia wasn’t leaving his brother’s side, even when the man was an insufferable arse.

  He leaned back in the chair, seeing for the first time Mia as family. “What day do you want?”

  She smiled at him. “That’s a tough one. I want a day that doesn’t rain.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a day from last year as the joke goes.”

  She sighed, but the smile still lit in her gaze. “Second weekend in June. That’ll give me enough time to have my parents and the family I actually like here.”

  “Done,” he said.

  She shook her head. “This isn’t something I plan with you. This is between me and Kincaid.”

  He didn’t bother to argue, because she was right and so wrong. The simple truth was Mia was family. He did everything to make sure his family was happy and whole.

  She frowned at him. “Where’s your laptop?”

  Fuck. That. CFOing was the last thing on his mind as Tasha would say, and he almost smiled and the smile would have nothing to do with the work. “At the B&B. I planned to head straight back after I was done here.”

  “Ah, but then you had to swoop in because a sibling was having troubles.”

  “That, and the Baird gave me no choice but to sit down and eat.”

  “He’s bossy when he wants to be.”

  They both turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Tasha only held one plate but that made sense when Kincaid came into view holding another. To his surprise, Tasha sidled up to him.

  “Ready to go?” she asked.

  “Aye.” He offered his hand to take her plate so she could bundle up.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his brother and Mia. Kincaid put the plate down on the table then leaned down close enough to look her in the eye. He couldn’t hear what his brother had to say but from the way Mia’s expression softened it was likely an apology. He was sure of it when Mia kissed Kincaid.

  That should have appeased the knot in his gut. He muttered about getting some air. Eventually Tasha brushed against him, her gloved hand seeking his. He shifted the plate and entwined their fingers.

  She bumped him with her shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Work.”

  She sighed. “Which one?”

  “Both, at the moment. I’m going to need you to hire two more people. No, three to be safe. We should have done this weeks ago, but now is what we have.”

  “I can put something together by tomorrow. I should have thought of that when I first got here, and definitely after Mia and Kincaid secured the showcase.”

  “The only reason to regret past mistakes is to learn from them. Other than that, it’s useless.”

  Her hand tightened and she stopped. “Something else is going on with you. It’s not like you to keep it to yourself.”

  He dropped her hand only to cup her cheek. “I had a short talk with Mia, and I’m fucked. Utterly. But right now, I’m thinking about the moment I can kiss you, touch you like I really want to. If the elevator at the B&B doesn’t take forever, that’ll be in five minutes.”

  “A talk with Mia? What happened?”

  He took her hand again then tugged her forward to walk. “The gist is Kincaid is being a big brother and worried about me.”

  “That’s sweet, but how does that fuck you?”

  “Because me and my siblings are all we have.” He gave her a sidelong glance and could tell there were going to be more questions. “Here’s the deal,” he said.

  “A deal? Will I have to sign in blood?”

  “Absolutely…maybe.” He made sure to look at her again to catch the smile. “Tonight, we only worry about the next minute ahead of us.”

  “That’s asking a lot because you are totally acting like tonight is…” The smile fell away.

  “I’m not ending things if that’s what you’re thinking. The next two days are going to be off the rails with us putting together the showcase. Then I…I’m going to have to go to London.”

  Her fingers tightened. “How long?”

  “Don’t know.”

  She said nothing to that even when they made it up to his room. He wanted to believe he was fine with their silence this time, but even in his work—as a CFO—there was the silence that meant the deal had gone tits up.

  There wasn’t much he could do other than pop her food into the small microwave then dress down. She headed to the bathroom with her bag. When she came out, she had on a long shirt that reached her knees with pigs sporting wings on it. No bonnet yet, but that was usually the last thing to go on. Six months ago, he could have written an essay on why grown women couldn’t be adorable. He was wrong, especially when he took in her fuzzy socks with hearts littered over them.

  He could be dramatic and say something sappy. They hadn’t even talked about how often she stayed with him since that first night. Aye. He was fucked in every way. “I don’t know how much you’re forking over for your room, but while I’m gone, you can stay here.”

  Her posture stiffened. “I—”

  “I can pay to keep the room available when I’m not here but even I’m frugal at times. It’ll save you money and me peace of mind. I know you’re being paid a fair wage, but even that has its limits when you’re shelling out money for a B&B instead of renting a flat on the outskirts of Glasgow.”

  The microwave dinged and he missed only a handful of seconds of her indecision, but not the flash of irritation crossing her face. She knelt at the edge of the bed, still looking disgruntled, and yet didn’t offer any further argument.

  He gave her the plate and took his turn in the bathroom. Once done, he came out to Tasha buried under the covers to her neck, her plate on the nightstand half empty and her bonnet on. Her eyes held a smile and the tension in his shoulders loosened.

  She said, her voice muffled, “I may have been a little hangry when you told me I could stay in your room. I accept. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t want to point out some of your irritation may be due to hunger.”

  “Such the gentleman.”

  “Just you wait.” He climbed onto the bed then over her, letting his weight and the comforter be a chastity belt.

  “Oh,” she said then freed her face fully from the blanket. “I see. Making sure I can’t free myself from the comforter is your soft way of playing a BDSM game?”

  “Not quite.” He kissed her.

  Her mouth was warm, soft and welcomed him like always. Heat tingled along his scalp and he fisted his hands in the comforter. There was no way for her to touch him back. That’s what he needed—for her to let him have just her mouth for a little while.

  Her touch would undo him. Her wrapping her legs around his hips would tip things from relatively sweet into X-rated within a blink. When she moaned, his balls tightened, conditioned by now to know fucking would come next. Grant couldn’t. Not tonight of all nights.

  He forced himself to stop kissing her, pulling back enough to meet her gaze. “Have I told you you’re beautiful today?”

  “You are so worrying me.
Just tell me you’re going to be okay while you’re off in London.”

  “I’ll be braw.”

  “Tell me in non-Scottish terms.”

  As she probably hoped, Grant laughed. “I promise I’ll be fine. My mind is just too distracted to be any good in bed.”

  “Being forcibly tucked in probably isn’t an ego boost for most women, but I’m going to take the win where I can. My only question is will you sleep on top of the comforter to make sure our genitals don’t touch even by accident?”

  “Tasha…”

  “If you didn’t want our bits, as you might say, to touch, maybe you should have put on some underwear or anything at all.”

  “I can only sleep naked. It’s a thing.”

  “I can’t sleep with socks on, so I understand.” She shifted under the comforter. “But Grant…”

  “Aye?”

  “If…” She huffed then closed her eyes and sort of deflated. “I have a pushy question.”

  He doubted that’s what she had truly wanted to say. “Ask away.”

  “You’re going to London for an unspecified amount of time. Being a CFO is what you’ve been all your adult life, from what I can tell.”

  “Not all of it. Took some time to get there with my friend.”

  Her mouth formed into an O. “A friend. That makes my question even more pushy.”

  He shifted to his haunches, bracing his fists on both sides of her as he straddled her over the comforter. “Now I need to know.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Okay. First, move so I can sit up.”

  He did. She pushed back the comforters to sit up and criss-cross her legs. She took a breath then asked, “You were kind of thrown into being…fuck, a parent for your siblings because Kincaid was leaving for the military and who else would do it? It sounds like you kind of just went with becoming a CFO with your friend. I know, right now, it’s temporary. You know, you doing the day-to-day stuff with your brother for the pub and the brewery. But…”

  His gut was tightening and for some reason he started to feel sick. “But what?” his voice was gruff.

  “What do you want, Grant?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks as though asking the question was as hard as answering it.