Page 61

“This is the life, eh?” Lewis murmurs. “No annoying wee brothers, no guests to look after . . .” He sighs contentedly. “I can’t wait for breakfast in the morning. Not only do I get to sleep in—for once!—but I get to sit and enjoy food that someone else has made. I definitely owe your maw for covering for me.”

“Och, you know what she’s like. She was delighted to help out if it meant you and I were able to come here on a date.”

While it would have been nice to have taken another look through all the books I bought today, even Lewis couldn’t carry both them and our bags from the car. I did, however, grab one to bring with me: His Highland Treasure.

“I still can’t believe Aurora McKenna is continuing the Highland Hearts and Hidden Treasures series. Since this one is a novella, it’ll probably only take me a few hours to get through. That’s a pretty good way of spending an evening, if you ask me.” I swing my legs up onto the bed, adjust the pillows, then rest back against the headboard.

Lewis yawns and stretches. “If you’re happy here, I think I’ll grab a shower.”

I gesture to the bathroom. “Go for it.”

A minute later, water hisses and splashes against tiles, and I try not to be distracted by the thought of Lewis standing under the hot spray, droplets of water tracing every line and curve of his body.

I open His Highland Treasure to the title page.

To Iona,

I hope this story sends you and your boyfriend on another thrilling “adventure”!

Aurora McKenna x

I chuckle softly at the message. I made it clear to Lewis that I wasn’t best pleased with the sleeping arrangements, but is it too soon to be thinking of bedroom adventures with him? I told him he’ll have to wait a very long time, and yet I’ve simultaneously been asking him to send me rude pictures. A bit of a contradiction? Sure, but a fun one.

Yes, he hurt me once—badly—but he was struggling at the time. That doesn’t excuse his behaviour, but it at least helps me understand it. The question is: am I genuinely worried he may one day do something like that again?

No. Not at all.

I know this man inside out. Sure, our friendship was on a break for a number of years and we’re only just now rekindling it, but I know he has a good heart. The event that drove us apart . . . it really was just a blip.

Could I keep him waiting longer? Of course. But what was the epiphany I had at the top of the wind turbine? Life is short, and I have to be brave.

We’ve already lost six years. How much more time do I want to let go by? And what’s the point of it? Because, in my heart of hearts, I’m sure it’s Lewis I’m meant to be with. It’s always been him.

I pick up my phone. I’m sitting here with a brand-new book in the Highland Hearts and Hidden Treasures series, and in my photos app there are wonderful pictures of me posing with Aurora McKenna and many other authors. Nevertheless—and despite my earlier verdict that dick pics are so yesterday—I instead flick through the images that Lewis has been sending me. And yes, I giggle. Is it odd that I find it kind of sweet that he’ll drop what he’s doing and send me a pic when I request it? He always has been eager to please.

The picture I linger on the longest is the one of him in his kilt. Naturally, I dubbed it Braveheart’s Boner. While I now mainly find Lewis’s photos amusing, there’s something about this image that really does it for me. It’s so hot.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse His Highland Treasure, the cover of which features a topless, muscular, kilted man. Ah. I think I know why I like Braveheart’s Boner so much. I’ve always had a thing for kilts.

With horror, it occurs to me that, over the three years we were together, never once did Lewis make love to me while he was in a kilt. In fact, I’ve never had sex with any man while he was in a kilt. I’m twenty-seven and I live in Scotland. What have I been doing with my life?

When the bathroom door opens, I hurriedly get Lewis’s erect penis off my screen. He emerges, a towel wrapped around his waist, his body otherwise bare. I look from him to His Highland Treasure and back again. A towel . . . a kilt . . . they’re not so very different, right?

I may be quite delighted by what I see, but I have to at least pretend to be outraged. “Lewis! Do you think it’s appropriate for you to waltz around without a top on?”

We did agree nothing would be happening between us, and if I change my mind on that point, fine. But he doesn’t get to test the boundaries.

“Er, sorry, is this a problem?” He seems genuinely taken aback by my indignation. He glances down at himself then meets my eye again. “I’m just quickly grabbing a change of clothes—I’ll be putting them on in the bathroom, obviously. I go swimming at the Glen Garve all the time, and I have my chest out there. I didn’t think it was an issue. A guy’s chest isn’t really a sexual thing the way a woman’s is, right?”

Isn’t it, Lewis? What about the night you broke my heart—why do you think that woman took your T-shirt off? Are you playing with me or are you really this clueless?

“If he’s built like you, it’s definitely a sexual thing.” I hold up His Highland Treasure. “Why do you think the model doesn’t have his top on, Lewis? Because he’s sexy without it on, and sex sells.”

“Ah. I see.” He nods, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. “So . . . you’re saying I’m sexy, are you?”

“I did not say that, no.” But I can’t stop my eyes from trailing downwards to take a proper look at him. I mean, if he’s not going to hide it . . .

The last time I saw Lewis topless was on that awful day, standing in his doorway in nothing but his joggers. Back then, his body was in its chrysalis stage, but now it’s fully transformed, and it is a sight to behold.