I return his smile, but there’s a faint tug in my chest. One I haven’t felt in a very long time. We just met, but something about him makes me want more time, more conversation, more…something.
“You sure will. Thanks again for showing me around today. You’ve got a truly incredible place here.”
He gives an appreciative nod before turning to walk away. With each step, the muscles in his back shift beneath his shirt, a motion that’s entirely too mesmerizing. I tell myself to look away, to reclaim some dignity, but my gaze lingers a beat too long. By the time I finally tear myself free, he’s gone.
I turn back to Aunt Rose, who’s watching me with a grin that says she knows exactly what’s going on inside my head. “Earth to Juliette. That man is a human being, not a snack.”
“I beg to differ,” I joke, completely unashamed by my perusing. “He’s…intriguing. But I’m not here for that. I’m here to clear my head and figure out my next steps. I’ve got my heart on hiatus. I was simply appreciating the view.”
And what a view it was.
“If you say so,” she quips.
I’m not fooling her. Not one bit.
I take another sip from my glass, the whisky suddenly a bit too warm as Knox’s comment about the event starts to simmer in my mind. Funny how something so simple can trigger a flood of memories. The galas I used to attend with James flash through my mind—the stiff conversations, the forced smiles, the way everything felt like a performance. I have to bite back a cringe. Been there, done that, and I’ve got the emotionalhangover to prove it. Curiosity tugs at me, despite the mental warning.
“What’s this event you’re planning?”
“Oh, it’s so exciting!” she exclaims, slapping her hands down on the table with such force I nearly jump out of my seat. “We were voted the number one distillery in Scotland by the most popular whisky magazine. There’s going to be a feature on Knox and Callan in the next issue. We’re throwing a big party to celebrate.”
I can’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. It’s contagious. “How neat. Are you guys hosting it here?”
“We are. It’ll be the first event held here in the new space. I’d love it if you could come, if you’re still here in July.”
That’s…almost two months from now.
Her fingers squeeze around mine. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it. How longamI staying? When I booked my ticket, I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead. But the idea of still being here in a couple months doesn’t seem so far-fetched.
“Maybe I could. Do you need any help with anything?”
“I don’t want to put you to work, but we’ll see,” she concedes. “Are you ready to head out? Anywhere you want to go?”
“Honestly, I think the jet lag is catching up with me,” I admit with a slight yawn. “I’m fine if you just want to head home.”
She offers her hand to help me slide out of the booth. “Works for me. Let’s hit the road.”
The drive back is uneventful. We spend the rest of the day on the back deck, enjoying the fresh air. I could sit there for hours, but my stomach grumbles, reminding me food is needed.
Aunt Rose takes charge of dinner, and I’m grateful. The day’s exhaustion catches up with me. After we eat, all I want todo is crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and sleep for a solid twelve hours.
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say, my voice thick with fatigue as I start clearing the dishes. “I feel like I could sleep for a month.”
“Leave those, hun. I’ll take care of it,” she says, shooing me from the kitchen.
I give her a quick hug, squeezing just a little longer than usual before heading to bed. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I crawl into the softness of the sheets. The night air drifts in, carrying the sound of crickets and rustling leaves.
But sleep doesn’t come quietly. It arrives wrapped in the shape of a tall, broad, devastatingly beautiful man. His dark green eyes, like the heart of a forest after a storm, pull me in, whispering secrets I know I’m not ready to hear. And yet, in the dream, I lean in anyway.
ten
JULIETTE
The next day rolls in overcast and quiet, the sky a wash of gray that’s more comforting than gloomy. We’re heading to my aunt’s favorite café, Thistle & Spoon, and while I’m mostly in it for the caffeine, I’m really looking forward to the slowness of an easy afternoon. Maybe it’s just the novelty of a life with no set agenda.
“I hope Lucy’s working today,” Aunt Rose says, cutting a glance my way.
“Lucy?”
