“Well…” He leaned forward on the bar, the space between us closing.
Does he smell good or did somebody light a candle in here?
“There’s one taxi driver in the village.”
One taxi driver? What is this place? The back of beyond?“Is there a number I can call? Perhaps the bartender knows?” I waggled my eyebrows. “Maybe whip out that ridiculous accent and beg for me?”
“No need to call.” He motioned down the bar. “He’s down there.”
I narrowed my eyes, a smile on my lips. “Is theentirevillage here?”
His body nudged mine; it was a casual touch, but it lingered on my skin. Like the way his smile remained across his lips. “It’s Friday night; this pub is the only thing going on.”
My gaze lingered on the man Jonah had pointed towards. He sat on a stool at the opposite end of the long bar, swaying backwards and forwards almost unsteadily.
“Is he…”
The man’s eyes drearily closed before he fell forwards and face-planted the bar.
“He’s been drinking since noon.” Jonah nodded. “It’s his day off.”
“Fuck.” I knew from the information on the rental website that MacIomhainn Cottage was a little outside the village, and considering this was the middle of nowhere and it would be all icy country roads out there, I stood no chance in these heels.
“Don’t worry,” Jonah said confidently. “I know where you’re going.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” He smiled bashfully. “I’m your new neighbour.”
“What?” I scoffed a laugh. “Are you…the welcome committee or something?”
“I could be.” The way he said it was jovial, light, but the dark glint of his eyes hinted at more. He washed it all away with another sip. “I coach locally and decided to stick around while my visa lasts. Seemed like a good spot to finish my book, so I’ve been renting the lodge next door.”
“A book,” I repeated. “How fancy.”
“I’ve had a little block. Six months later, it’s still not finished. I wish I could say it’s because the coaching gig keeps me busy, but I can’t untangle it.”
“What is it you coach? And I swear if you say dialect?—”
“No.” He laughed, deep and light all at once. “That I do for free.” His head hung, a single lock of his dark hair falling onto his forehead.
A vision came to mind that didn’t seem like a terribly awful idea. One that ended with him and me tangled in bedsheets…
“So how long are you here?” he asked.
“Until after Christmas,” I mustered.
“Any plans?”
You, maybe?I smiled, smothering my immediate answer with a mental pillow. “Skiing, maybe?” I said instead. “Catching up on my reading. Exploring the Highlands.”
“Is that why you’ve packed what I assume is your entire wardrobe?” He tapped my hardshell suitcase, a response to my brows pressed together in question. “This must be the largest suitcase I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I’m a girl who likes to be prepared for any weather.”
A gust of winter wind suddenly rushed into the pub, sucking the heat from my bones, serving as a reminder of how treacherous it was outside. Behind Jonah, a man stepped in, his face lighting up as he stepped closer to the bar.
He patted Jonah on the shoulder. “Ah, perfect, if it’s notMr Wimbledonhimself. I was hoping you’d be here.”
