Page 103 of Scotlander

‘Aye. Farm Delights.’

He stroked the backs of his fingers against her cheek. ‘You might hate it, you know. It’s not an easy life.’

‘And you think interviewing the likes of Kim Kardashian is?’

He gave a wry nod. ‘Good point. I’ll take a breech calf any day of the week.’

They stopped by the house where Orla and Dougie went through a hilarious panoply of facial expressions, plying the pair of them with food and drink until it became clear that they were itching to be alone. Orla nodded at the door. ‘I guess you two’ll be away to the shepherd’s hut, then?’

Willa looked at Finn. ‘Shepherd’s hut?’

‘It’s where I stay when I’m here. Where we’ll stay until—’

‘Until?’

‘Until we decide what we want to do next.’

What she wanted most was tear his clothes off and have deeply orgasmic sex. But the shepherd’s hut was so completely gorgeous – beautifully carved wood, a sumptuously inviting bed, a tiny yesteryear kitchen, a wood stove crackling away in the corner, antler coat racks, a massive Highland cow rug – she gave it her full attention for about ninety seconds and then began to ravage her Scottish beau.

Later, warm and naked and feeling that delicious tingly half-awake half-asleep feeling, she ran her fingers along his chest and asked, ‘How did you do that? Get all of those people to learn the dance?’

‘Ah!’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I have been learning my way around this magical thing called social media. I put out a message saying I was going to be on the flight and what I had in mind for Los Angeles. I had people DM me. If they were into it, I sent them a video of me and Trevor doing the choreography.’

She propped herself up on her elbow and beamed at him. ‘Finlay Jamieson, will wonders never cease?’

The corners of his mouth tweaked into that lovely, warm smile of his. ‘I think you’ll find this thirty-something dog is quite capable of learning some new tricks.’

She smiled, gave his cheek a kiss and then, serious, said, ‘You’re not the only one who’ll have to learn new tricks. I dare say my pitchforking technique could do with a bit of improvement.’

‘Don’t you worry about that now, lass. There’ll always be plenty of poop to scoop.’

She swept her hand across her forehead with a ‘Phew.’

He pulled her in closer, nuzzling into the nook between her jaw and neck.

‘I can help,’ she said, wanting to make it clear she wasn’t here to freeload. ‘Do stuff.’

Finn pulled back, then scooched himself up higher on the bank of pillows. ‘I know. But I don’t just love you because you’re useful.’

‘But I have to be! What if you discover things about me you don’t like?’

He snorted. ‘Willa, will you stop with the dour Scots act? There is no couple on earth who adores every single thing about one another. Besides’ – he traced his index finger along her shoulder and down her arm – ‘if we were perfect, we’d never have make-up sex.’

‘I don’t know. You’ve not met me when I’m pre-menstrual.’

‘Uh-oh!’ He pulled a comedy terror face. ‘Do you turn beastly?’

‘Worse. Tearful. I will be unreasonable and emotional and demand to watch inspirational sports dramas, and by sports dramas I mean cheerleader films that all have the same plot but a different soundtrack. And then I’ll want to practise cartwheels and handstands and eat my body weight in chocolate.’

He twisted his mouth to the side, taking the scenario she’d painted on board. ‘Aye, well. When you put it that way, perhaps we are looking at a deal-breaker.’

She sat up. ‘What? You’d dump me because—’

Finn was laughing. ‘Noooo. After all, you’re going to have to put up with me when I become groom-zilla.’

She did a double take. Was this . . . Was he proposing? I mean, she was down with it, but they had only known one another for two weeks.

She cocked a hand to her ear. ‘Beg pardon?’