A Highlander Walks into a Bar--A Highland, Georgia Novel

by Laura Trentham

  Anna’s fake pout was ruined by her smile. “Yeah, I noticed the way the two of you eye-fucked your way out of the pub last night. I assume you advanced the cause afterward.”

  “Anna!” Izzy covered her eyes out of embarrassment but also because Anna would see the truth in her eyes.

  “She’s so fun to tease, isn’t she, Alasdair?” Anna asked. “What can I help you folks with?”

  “Isabel seems to think we need professional help.”

  Anna held up her hands in mock surrender. “I talk a big game, but I’m no sexpert.”

  Izzy fought the urge to strangle her friend. “Dance help, you nut. Mom has decided that Alasdair and I should open the festival at the whisky tasting.”

  “I see.” A serious frown and furrowed brow replaced Anna’s tease. “We don’t have much time.”

  “Is there any hope?”

  Anna turned to Alasdair. “Do you know the ‘St. Bernard’s Waltz’?”

  “I can stumble my through a traditional waltz. I’m better with the Latin dances like the salsa and tango, but I can manage a credible foxtrot given enough alcohol.”

  Izzy looked heavenward and cursed softly. “Are you serious?”

  “Mum insisted I take ballroom. She thought every”—he stumbled over his words—“young man of a certain station should know how to conduct himself on the dancefloor.”

  “Traditionally, the hostess”—Anna gestured toward Izzy—“opens the festival with the St. Bernard’s Waltz. It’s a bit more complicated than a Viennese waltz, but eminently doable with your solid dance background.”

  “I was afraid you were going to suggest the Dirty Dancing lift,” Alasdair said.

  “We want to avoid a medical emergency.” Anna waggled her eyebrows.

  “Har-har,” Izzy said.

  “While I would love to use more modern music, Dr. Jameson will insist on accompanying you with the pipes.” Anna threw an apologetic glance toward Alasdair.

  Izzy avoided making eye contact with herself in the mirrors lining the room. A panicky sweat spread from the back of her neck to her armpits. A pair of strong hands took hold of her shoulders and massaged the tension away.

  “You’re taking this much too seriously. You’re not being asked to perform brain surgery in front of an audience.” The tease in his voice did nothing for her nerves.

  “I think I would do better with the surgery.”

  Bagpipe music came over the speakers that hung in the four corners of the room as Anna rejoined them.

  “Okay, Highlander, let’s see what I’m working with here. I’ll show you the steps and we’ll take a spin around the room.” Anna snapped her fingers at Izzy as if dealing with one of her preteen pupils. “Pay attention, Izzy.”

  Anna walked Alasdair through the basics. Izzy tried to pay attention to Anna’s feet and count steps, but Alasdair kept distracting her with his hotness. After a mere fifteen minutes, Alasdair was able to lead Anna around the room. It wasn’t flashy but no one’s toes were mashed and no one tripped and fell.

  Anna laughed after Alasdair twirled her to a stop. “Excellent. You’re a strong partner. We can make this work. Come on, Izzy. Your turn.”

  The song looped on repeat as Anna positioned Izzy in Alasdair’s pseudo-embrace. The feel of him made her step even closer. A flash of him standing in the shower with water sluicing down his naked body replaced a portion of her nerves with arousal.

  Anna lowered her arm between them like a crossing guard. “Back that ass up, girl. St. Bernard’s waltz isn’t sexy like the tango.”

  “Did you know that when the waltz was introduced in England during the Regency, it was scandalous? Unmarried men and women had never been able to get so close.” Izzy barked a laugh. “Actually, that must not be totally true because it’s estimated at least thirty percent of women were already pregnant when they married. So, they were able to get super close, if you know what I mean.”

  Alasdair had a bemused smile on his face while Anna shook her head and asked, “How do you know that?”

  “I read a lot.”

  Anna thumbed toward Izzy. “This girl was either reading a book or scribbling in a notebook in school. You remember, Izzy?”

  “Of course I do.” She dropped her gaze to stare at a button on Alasdair’s shirt.

  The books and the stories she wrote were her lifeline out of the petty social interactions of a small-town high school. Back then, Anna wouldn’t have given her the time of day. Izzy’s friends had all been girls like her—not pretty or talented enough to cheer or play sports.

  Anna continued, shooting Izzy a warm smile. “Izzy was valedictorian and got a scholarship to UGA. She was so smart and nice and pretty. What I didn’t realize until we got to know each other after college was how funny she is. I’m lucky she’s my best friend now.”

  Although it wasn’t how Izzy remembered herself, Anna’s words were a bear hug to the shy, awkward girl still taking up space in Izzy’s psyche. Unable to put into words what Anna’s friendship meant to her, Izzy gave her an actual hug.

  “Enough of the mushy stuff. Get in position, you two.” Anna stepped back as Izzy swung her focus to their feet.

  Anna spent the next ten minutes drilling Izzy on which foot to move where and when to twirl. “Don’t look at your feet, Izzy, look into Alasdair’s eyes.”

  As soon as her gaze melded with his, she forgot the steps and stomped on his foot. “Ugh. Sorry. This would be easier if you were uglier.”

  Alasdair shook his beleaguered foot and rubbed his jaw. “I’m working on it. I’ve never been this long without a proper shave or haircut.”

  “If you think not shaving is making you less attractive, then you don’t understand women.” Izzy turned toward Anna with sigh. “I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t give up on yourself,” Anna said breezily while going over the steps yet again; and once more, Izzy smashed Alasdair’s foot within the first ten seconds.

  “Can we take a five-minute break?” Alasdair asked.

  At Alasdair’s pointed look, Anna nodded briskly and retreated to her office. The music cut off.

  “Are you about to give me a pep talk?” Izzy crossed her arms.

  “I know what’s wrong,” he said.

  “Really? Okay, hit me Dr. Phil.”

  Confusion had him scrunching his eyes. “Who?”

  She waved both hands. “Never mind. Go ahead and analyze me.”

  “Your mind leaps and spins from thought to thought too fast and furious—and I love that about you—but to dance you must get out of your head and slow your thoughts to just one. Do you know how to do that?”

  Far from leaping and spinning, her mind was stuck on one word. “Love.” Just like the first time it had come out of his mouth, hearing the word in relation to anything about her was startling in an interesting, but good way. Not that he meant romantic love, more like how a person loved bacon or pizza.

  Her scattered thoughts only reinforced his opinion, and she refocused on his question. How could she slow her mind? “Drugs? Alcohol?”

  A slow smile spread across his face and his voice was low and smooth and seductive. “No. You need to concentrate on me. Stare into my eyes and don’t let yourself think about anyone else watching.”

  Hypnotized, she tilted toward him, her face upturned, her unblinking gaze on his face. She half expected him to sweep her into the steps of the dance. Instead, he kissed her in the middle of the studio.

  Not an innocent brush of the lips, but a sexy, dirty kiss, including sparring tongues, love bites, and a firm squeeze of her bottom. When they broke apart, he assumed the position of the dance, and through some secret signal to Anna, music filled the room.

  She surrendered herself to him and didn’t miss a step. The last notes petered out and she shuffled to a stop after a final twirl, her body twanging like a tuning fork resonating sweetly. His hand pressed her closer until her chest almost brushed his. Tension, both physical and emotional, held her in
its grip.

  Anna’s whoop shattered the intimacy. “That was so awesome! You were as graceful as your mom, and that’s saying something. All you had to do was give yourself over to the music.”

  Izzy smiled but her lips quivered. It wasn’t the music she had given herself over to but the man.

  “You two need to practice whenever you can so you won’t forget the steps. Let’s discuss clothes. I assume you’ll be wearing the traditional kilt from the other night, Alasdair?” At his nod, Anna faced Izzy and ran her gaze up and down her body. “What about you?”

  Still feeling like she was in the middle of an out-of-body experience, she said, “I’ve got a pleated tartan skirt I could wear.”

  “Not that old thing you’ve worn for the last five years?”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing if you want to fuel inappropriate Catholic schoolgirl fantasies for Highland’s male population, but no way am I letting you wear that to the opening dance.” Anna tapped her lips. “I might have something we can alter. Hang on.”

  She disappeared into a storage area and Izzy rocked on her feet, shooting a glance toward Alasdair. He looked composed and calm even while she stirred her own chaotic internal stew. “You’re going to book it out of Highland in the middle of the night, aren’t you?”

  Alasdair narrowed his eyes at her as if disappointed. “Will you put a little faith in me, lass?”

  The slowing of her thoughts during the dance had been temporary and as if making up for lost time, his question entered a particle accelerator and gained in weight and meaning. How could she put her faith in a man she barely knew?

  But was that really true? She hadn’t known him long, true, but she understood him. Much like he understood her. Could that be enough for the time they had left? Banishing her doubts, she pasted on a “fake it until you make it” smile. “I suppose I can spare a teeny-tiny amount of faith.”

  Taking her hands in his, he rubbed his thumbs along the backs. “I’ve never not had a plan, but I don’t want to think about what will happen after the festival. Or tomorrow, for that matter.”

  “I’ve never winged it either, but this feels good. Healthy even. We’ll have fun and enjoy the time we have left. Fun, fun, fun.” She sounded like a clown on speed and cleared her throat to bring her voice down an octave.

  “We’re obviously compatible in bed, but I want you know that it isn’t just about sex for me.” Why did he come off sounding so mature when she was an overflowing basket of awkwardness?

  “If you’re into Catholic schoolgirls, I could—” What was she saying? She bit the inside of her cheek in an old habit to stop the flow of words. “That came out sounding really weird.”

  Anna saved her with an armful of gauzy mossy green fabric. “Why don’t you grab some tea or coffee at the Brown Cow while I fit Izzy, Alasdair?”

  “Sounds lovely. I’ll be waiting.” Alasdair inclined his head toward them and strolled out.

  Izzy stared at the door he’d disappeared through until Anna slapped her arm and brought her out of her daze with a muttered, “Ow.”

  “You are a goner, woman. I never thought I’d bear witness to your fall.” Anna smiled but it was tinged with melancholy.

  “He’s leaving right after the festival. Before you walked up, we were discussing how we are going to have fun and have sex and not think about tomorrow.” The twinge at the thought of him gone wasn’t fun at all, but painful.

  “Are you okay with that plan?” Anna cocked her head.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Anna hummed as if censoring her opinion, shook the dress out, and held it up to Izzy. “I don’t think it will need drastic alterations. Come on back and slip it on.”

  Izzy followed her, picking at the conversation like a loose string. “We aren’t serious. We can’t get serious. He’s leaving.”

  “Yeah, you said that already. Has he bought his plane ticket yet?” Anna asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not ask him to stay?” Anna asked.

  “No way!” It would be the Sadie Hawkins dance all over again except exponentially worse.

  “Oh no. Was the sex not any good?”

  Izzy sputtered a string of inanities before admitting, “It was amazing. The way he moves on the dance floor is nothing compared to what he can do in bed. And in the shower.”

  Anna grabbed her throat in a classic pearl clutch and gasped. Inside, Izzy was gratified she’d managed to shock Anna.

  “Girl! I’m super happy for you.” Anna’s surprise faded into a frowning concern. “But, I know you. You wouldn’t have slept with Alasdair if it wasn’t more than a fling. You like him.”

  Anna took her forearm in a comforting grip that somehow squeezed tears into Izzy’s eyes. Her vision blurry, she looked toward the ceiling and blinked. “His life is in London and mine is here. That’s the way it is.”

  “Maybe so, but things can change. Keep an open mind—and heart—about the matter.” Anna grabbed the hem of Izzy’s T-shirt and tugged it up. Anna’s time in dance had left her with no sense of personal modesty and no understanding of other people’s body hang-ups. “Off with your clothes.”

  Anna dressed her like a doll, bestowing compliments like candy. “I wish I had your boobs and your curves and your hair.”

  Izzy swung her head around. “What? Your hair is amazing. Unique.”

  “It’s too red.” Confidence was Anna’s hallmark, but a hint of self-consciousness had revealed itself. “I was thinking about dying it.”

  “What color?”

  “I don’t know. Something normal.”

  “But you’re not normal.” Izzy met Anna’s eyes in the mirror. “And I mean that in the best possible way. You are gorgeous.”

  “Fine, fine.” Anna laughed and held up her hands, but before her gaze dropped, a glimmer of deep emotion punched Izzy in the gut. Anna seemed more vulnerable than usual, and Izzy didn’t know why.

  “What do you think?” Anna shifted to stand behind her and pinched each side seam, pulling the bodice taut to Izzy’s body. It molded to her curves and highlighted the best parts of her. The bodice of the dress scooped to reveal the tops of her breasts and was made from a stretchy fabric, overlaid with the same gauze in the skirt. It was tea length, but had a split to make movement easier and add a dash of sexiness. The green would be a good match for Alasdair’s tartan.

  “Wow. I look great,” Izzy said as if she’d stolen and assimilated Anna’s confidence.

  While Anna retrieved pins, Izzy swayed and swished the skirts, imagining herself in Alasdair’s arms, losing herself in his eyes, as the town oohed and ahhed over their combined grace.

  “Hold still,” Anna said around a mouthful of pins.

  Izzy did as she was told. “I want to pay you for the dress and time. You’re as busy as I am with preparations for the gremlins.”

  The nickname for the kids Anna taught didn’t make her smile. She huffed and glared at Izzy through the mirror, her words garbled around the pins. “Not a chance. You deserve to be Cinderella.”

  Izzy had never connected with the light and frothy Disney fairytales, preferring their dark counterparts by the Brothers Grimm or the ones she made up. “I’m not Cinderella and Alasdair is not Prince Charming. And I wouldn’t want him to be. I mean, seriously, what did Cinderella know about the man other than he had a foot fetish? That was not the basis for a strong marriage.”

  Anna’s guffaw spilled the pins from her mouth. The front door jangled and high-pitched voices carried through the studio. “Speaking of gremlins, my five-year-olds class is here.”

  After unzipping her, Anna left Izzy to get change back into her clothes. With a little wave, Izzy slipped out the front door. The Brown Cow beckoned with the smell of freshly roasted coffee. Coming out as she was entering was Sterling Smith, one of the managers at the bank, and the man Izzy had been trying to track down for a week. They stepped to the side of the door on the sidewalk.r />
  “Sterling! I was so sorry to read about your aunt in the paper.” She touched his hand.

  “Sad times, but the funeral turned into a family reunion. We even managed to squeeze in a trip to Disney World while we were in Florida for the funeral. It’s terrible to admit we had fun, isn’t it?” His smile was sheepish.

  “I’ll bet your aunt would have approved.” She smiled in absolution before asking, “Is everything in order for the loan? Are you ready for Mom to sign?”

  Sterling ran a hand over his balding pate, a sheen of sweat popping out. He was in a baggy suit and held a cup of coffee. Two years older than Izzy, they had had only a passing acquaintance in high school, but they’d been thrown together during Highland events many times since Izzy had come home from college.

  “Actually, I checked the system this morning and it’s still listed as pending. I’m going to call corporate as soon as I dig myself out of the work that piled up on my desk. I’ll call you to set up a time in a couple of days.” Sterling waved over his head and hustled across the street at an awkward jog, his former athletic prowess diminished by his desk job.

  “Appreciate you!” Izzy called out. She’d wanted the issue settled and the roofers lined up to start right after the festival, but there was nothing to do but wait.

  Inside the Brown Cow, Alasdair held court at a table with Dr. Jameson and Mr. Timmerman, with Millie hovering.

  Millie spotted her first and jogged back behind the counter. “You want the usual?”

  Her usual was regular coffee with a dash of cream and sugar. On the cusp of saying yes, Izzy changed her mind. She was going to live in the moment and take some chances. “Actually, I’ll try the vanilla chai latte.”

  Izzy thanked Millie when she handed the cup over and took a sip. The richness of the flavors made her close her eyes and take a deep breath. Alasdair retrieved a chair from a neighboring table and gestured for her to sit. Their thighs touched in the close space. Alasdair wrapped both hands around his mug of tea while the other two men had coffees.

  “Alasdair was telling us about a real Highland games he attended,” Dr. Jameson said. “It’s been a decade since my last trip to Scotland. I’m due another, but I have another year in my tenure as mayor.”