“Really? That would be great Mr...
“Keltar. But call me Logan.”
Smiling, I reach my hand out. “Macbeth Walsh. But call me Beth.”
He looks at my hand, a little longer than what’s normal before he clasps it in his and I shudder at the sudden electricity shooting up my arm. He doesn’t even shake my hand, just holds it.
“It’s nice to meet ya, Macbeth,” he says in a low voice. “Like this.”
Tilting my head to the side, I ask. “Like this? What do you mean...?” Then it dawns on me and I blurt, “You’re the man on the train! The one who told that obnoxious guy to keep it down.”
His eyes shimmer with something secretive before he nods. “Aye, that was me.”
“And now you’re here,” I say, gulping, “in the middle of nowhere with me.” Taking back my hand, a shudder moves through me again and I ask, “Are you stalking me?”
2
Logan
“Woman, why the hell would I be stalking ya?” I ask, rubbing a hand over my face in frustration as she looks up at me. She’s so small I could pick her up with one hand and throw her over my shoulder and never give her back. Keep her to myself if I wanted to. And dammit I want to.
“You tell me,” she says, crossing her arms and her eyes fire with anger. They’re the color of the loch, the only thing that looks Scottish about her, except for the reddish hints in her fair hair. Otherwise she’s tanned, dressed too thinly for this weather and she smells of piña coladas and coconuts like she just stepped out of a beach post card.
Exotic, to someone like me.
Frowning I cross my arms too, “Do ya want us to keep playing games? Or do ya want me to show ya yur da’s house before my arse freezes into ice?”
She stares at me, before sniggering. “You’re not wearing anything underneath that kilt are you...?” she blurts and I raise my brow, causing her to realize what she just said, “I m...mean...”
“If yur curious I could easily show ya,” I jest and her eyes flare.
“No! Its n...none of my business.”
The corners of my mouth curve. “Come on,” I say, clasping her elbow, “we need to move, yur lips have turned blue.”
“Shoot,” she says, picking up a tube of pink that she smears over her lips. “Better?”
Her question forces me to look at her mouth and I grind my jaw, grunting. “Aye.”
Struggling to keep up with me she asks, “Do you live close around here?”
Nodding I point behind us. “Back there. Lived here all my life.” Glancing at her I say, “First time visiting Scotland?”
She nods. “I am. Only staying for a week though.”
Tensing I mutter, “That’s not verra long. Will ya be going back home then?”
Shaking her head she says, “I was thinking about traveling throughout Europe know that I’m here anyway. Venice, Barcelona, Budapest...”
My fists clench because I want her to stay put. Easier to keep an eye on her that way.
“What’s wrong with this place? This is your home as much as mine.”
Shrugging she says, “Doesn’t feel like it. Besides, I’m already planning on selling my dad’s cottage...”
“No.”
Jerking she looks up at me, her mascara coated lashes fluttering and she pouts. “Excuse me? What do you mean no?”