Wrong side.
I’m on thewrongside.
Every nerve ending lights up like a firealarm. For one terrible beat, I just sit there, frozen stupid, hands clenched tight around the steering wheel like maybe I can will myself invisible.
“Shit!” I wrench the wheel hard and swerve onto the gravel shoulder like my life depends on it. Because…it does. I slam on the brakes, hard enough that the seat belt digs into my shoulder and my whole body jolts forward before snapping back. The car shudders to a stop. My heart does not.
The only thing I can hear is the frantic pounding of my pulse in my ears. And then, because the universe has apparently decided I haven’t suffered enough today, the pickup truck slows to a stop beside me.
The driver’s face is barely visible through his window. With a groan, I roll mine down, preparing for whatever lecture is coming my way.
I’m already gearing up for the worst. An angry rant, a possible horn blast, maybe even a sarcastic little clap for the dumb American who can’t tell left from right.
Honestly, all of it would be fair.
I swallow hard, palms slick on the wheel and wait for the inevitable confrontation. The person rolls down their window, but my eyes stay glued to the dashboard, too mortified to look at them. My cheeks are on fire.Please, sunglasses, do your job.
“You all right, lassie?”
The voice throws me for a loop. It’s deep. Steady. Rich enough to roll right through me and knock the air out of my lungs.
Oh no. Absolutely not. I am not that girl.
Except, apparently, Iamthat girl. Because for a second, the near miss, the terror, the deeply unflattering sweat happening under my jacket, all of it just…disappears.
All I can hear ishim.And worse?
It sounds familiar.
My heart gives a traitorous little stutter as I slowly drag my gaze upward and regret every life choice that brought me to this exact moment.
Becauseof coursehe’s beautiful.
He’s got the sharp features that look like they were carved by the same wind that weathered every stone on land. His beard is trimmed close, and his hair, that soft, chestnut brown mess that practically begs for fingers to sink into it, is wildly at odds with the stern line of his mouth.
It’s his eyes that really do me in.
They’re green. Not the soft, hazy kind. No, these are clear and cutting. Keen enough to see straight through every flustered, flailing thought in my extremely frenzied brain.
What is wrong with me?
I nearly killed us both, and here I am, staring at him like a lovesick fool. Did the near accident knock a few brain cells loose? Adrenaline is clearly not my friend.
“Lass?” he says again, and I swear I hear the faintest hint of concern in his voice. He’s probably trying to figure out how to ask if I’ve recently hit my head and wandered off without supervision.
When his gaze drops to my lips, it’s like a switch. That small, fleeting glance feels like a charge running straight through me, and before I can stop myself, the panic spills out. “I’m so sorry! Honestly, I’m so embarrassed right now. I’m obviously not from here, and I told myself a million times before I got in the car that I needed to drive on the other side of the road. Sorry. So, so sorry.”
Oh my god. Someone, please help me make the rambling stop.
He doesn’t speak right away, just studies me. His head tilts slightly, brows raised in curiosity and amusement. I’m stillbracing for the worst—him snapping, calling me reckless, reporting me,something.
Instead, his lips twitch into a smirk.
“Is that so?” His voice drops half an octave lower and something inside me melts. “First time driving here, then?”
I nod, my throat suddenly dry. “First full day in Scotland, actually.”
“Well…” he says, leaning slightly out his window, his forearm resting casually on the sill. The muscles in his arm shift as he moves, and for a split second, I catch myself staring, way too aware of how damn attractive those forearms are. I tear my eyes away, but it’s too late. He notices. “Welcome to Scotland. Nearly getting yourself killed is certainly one way to make an entrance.”
