Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Rosie

I waved to a local woman as I crossed the street, tote bag on my shoulder, humming to myself. It had been less than two weeks since I’d arrived in Scotland and already, I felt part of this community. How had that happened so seamlessly? Was that the nature of small towns everywhere or was it just because the bookshop was a natural hub for people? Was it because of Moira and her wacky legacy? Was I actually like her?

Either way, I liked it.

Jessica was right, Scottish Rosie was great.

I liked the Rosie that I was becoming here. At home, I’d been stuck in a routine that it had taken a pretty drastic event to shake me out of. I’d become a complacent, even bland version of myself, and that thought stopped me in my tracks as I crested a small hill on the gravel road to Alexander’s house.

Here I’d been putting the blame on others for being boring or bland, when I’d gone right along with it myself, hadn’t I? It was easier for me to look to my boyfriends to spice things up or make life interesting than it had been for me to take the reins myself. I’d allowed my fear of taking risks—induced by a childhood of being out of control—to keep me stagnant. It hadn’t just been that I’d picked tepid partners, I had also made tepid choices.

It had felt safe to me. Which I am sure many a psychologist would gently point to childhood trauma and give me numerous reasons for why I’d been making the choices I had.

“I don’t want to play it safe anymore!” I cried out, the wind ripping my words from my mouth and carrying them across the field. Immediately panic loomed.

“Wait, no, no. I was kidding. I definitely want to play it safe,” I called out, just in case the universe got confused on what I’d meant about playing it safe. I’d already done my huge adventurous choice by hopping on that plane and moving my life here. That was enough big adventure for me for a long time. I didn’t need to jump into the deep end when I was just learning how to swim. I never understood people who suggested that method of learning. Surely there was a more methodical and incremental approach than shock therapy?

I was a list girl. Organized. Step by step.

And so I would push myself out of my comfort zone, but it would have to be on my terms.

I wanted this to work.

Down to the very marrow of my bones, I could feel how much I wanted this experience to be a fruitful one for me. I didn’t just want to dabble in bookselling and grow bored and jaded with it within time. I wanted to constantly improve the store, host events, write books, meet new friends, and become a welcomed member of the little community here. I wanted to explore Scotland and immerse myself in her history, and dream about days past while wandering along crumbling castle walls.

I turned a corner in the road and Alexander’s house came into view.

My heart clenched as he rounded the house, not seeing me, a piece of wood on his shoulder.

I wanted him.

There was no explaining it, really, for it seemed too soon. And yet there was also no denying it. Every day he showed up at the shop, even though he worked several jobs and took care of an injured puffin. Still, he made time for a project he’d committed to, he was gentle with the Book Bitches when they were downright overbearing, and he had not been gentle with me in the best ways in that closet the other night. The man was a mass of contradictions. Socially awkward but intensely kind. A computer geek but mind-numbingly sexy. Reserved and shy yet chatty in private.

I was hooked .

Alexander stopped his return around the house and waved when he saw me. Picking up the pace, I laughed as I reached him.

“I’ve only seen your house when it’s dark out. But I get it now, Alexander. I really do. No wonder you’re happy to hunker down by yourself out here.” Turning, I spread my arms out to encompass the incredible view that stretched behind Alexander’s cottage.

Rolling green hills met sand dunes and cliffs, the ocean kissing the shore, birds swooping low to look for a meal. Clouds hung low on the horizon, mere whisps of white in a moody winter sky, and faded winter sunlight speared through, highlighting streaks of light across the slate-blue water. I could look at this endlessly, imagining the mood had to change daily, and wondered if Alexander did just that—sat at his tall windows each morning, staring out over the water.

“Och, it’s a grand spot, isn’t it?” Alexander grinned down at me. His dark hair was rumpled by the wind. He wore a thick canvas coat over a plaid shirt, and he looked solid and strong and real. I wanted to hug him.

“It really is a great view,” I agreed but kept my eyes on him. Appreciation dawned in his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat when he stepped closer, angling me until my back was against the stone wall of his house. Setting the wood against the wall, he pressed himself against me. He slid his hands up the sides of my body, and then pushed my arms over my head, leaning in until his mouth hovered over mine.

A giddy feeling twirled inside me. See? Small risks. Baby steps.

When his mouth slanted across mine, it felt like coming home. Everything clicked into place for me, and I gasped against his lips, hooking one arm around his neck. I felt everything in this moment. The heat of his mouth, the slap of icy wind against my heated cheeks, the press of his muscular body pushing me back against the stone of the cottage. It was all hot and cold, hard and soft, and the contradictions, much like Alexander himself, were enough to make me mewl in distress at his mouth.

“Shhh, darling.” Alexander pulled back and brushed a thumb over my bottom lip. “The light’s leaving us. Let me show you what I’ve built for Tattie and then we can continue this.”

I wanted to climb this man like a tree and build a house among his branches and … never leave. Never had I been so responsive with a partner before, but something about Alexander’s touch was driving me straight to the edge. It was so clear that before him— not that we are a couple— before Alexander, I had always settled for scraps. I’d never believed I was worthy of someone like this man.

“Can I put your handbag inside?” Alexander asked, bringing me back to the present as I blinked up at him.

“Oh, right. Sure. Well, the tote bag is for Tattie.”

“I’m not sure he’s much for shopping.”

“I meant what is in it.” I rolled my eyes at a grinning Alexander. “I looked up some enrichment things for him. They’re kind of makeshift, but we can give it a go and see what he thinks. ”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted.” Alexander pulled the tote open and peered inside. “As am I. Even though I’m not sure what your plan is for a baking dish.”

“Don’t worry. No puffins are on the menu tonight.”

“Good, because I’d hate to have to figure out where to bury your body.” Alexander laughed as I poked him in the side. I then followed him around the side of the house.

My heart stopped.

“Oh, Alexander. This … this isn’t just an enclosure. This is incredible.” I blinked at the sudden press of tears against my eyes. The man was crying out to nurture someone, something, anything.

The enclosure was huge. It took up a massive chunk of his backyard, likely sacrificing a good portion of his beautiful view, and he’d done it without a second thought. The entire structure was enclosed in chicken wire, and one side had a lean-to that sheltered a small boxed-in pen. Alexander stopped by the door and crossed his arms over his chest, watching me as I took it all in.

Tattie stood on top of a rocky outcropping, focused on the pool of water below him. I gasped when he jumped in, but he came out with a minnow in his mouth and I couldn’t help myself. I applauded.

“Look at him go.” This time I did lean in and hug Alexander. He wrapped an arm around me, and I turned, my face pressed into his chest, and watched as Tattie waddled around his new home. “Truly, this is mind-blowing. Can you walk me through your choices?”

“You want to know why I built it the way that I did?” Alexander’s voice was a rumble in his chest at my ear.

“I do.”

“Are you deliberately trying to turn me on?”

I laughed.

“I like learning. And knowing you, there are logical choices for the decisions you’ve made.”

“Well, since you asked.” Alexander drew back and rubbed his hands together, like a kid about to dive into a year’s supply of candy. “Right, so since the vet wasn’t entirely sure if Tattie’s wing would heal, since sometimes clipped feathers can grow back after a molt, but it depends on the extent of the damage, he didn’t seem overly optimistic. He said the wing was quite damaged, but we’re still going to hold out hope he can fly again one day. Which meant I wanted to keep his enclosure as natural as possible, but also make it safe for him.”

“How on earth is he not going to escape through that pool?” I pointed to the shallow pool of ocean water that Tattie was currently playing in. From my vantage point, it looked like a tidal pool where the ocean water rushed between rocky outcroppings. Tattie wasn’t that big. “Surely he could just escape through there if he wanted?”

“Do you want to go in and see?”

“Can we?” I asked, adjusting the tote bag at my shoulder.

“Sure, you can give him his toy.”

“Oh, I need fish for it.” I’d forgotten that one crucial bit.

“Show me.” Alexander took the bag from me and pulled out the baking tray and the small grate I’d found to nestle in it.

“So the idea was to put the fish below the grate, and then add some pebbles and so on. He’ll have to dig a bit to pull the fish out. Kind of like a puzzle feeder.”

“Ah, sure, sure. Cool idea.” Alexander went into the shed and returned with a small bucket of fish, and I watched as he laid them out in the pan, and then covered them with the grate that had beak-sized spaces in it. Then he added some pebbles and sand from a nearby dune.

“Think this will suit?” Alexander asked.

“No idea.” I shrugged. “But we can give it a go.”

“I hope he knows that we care.” Alexander held the door for me, and I ducked through inside the enclosure. Once inside though, I could stand up straight, as could Alexander. He’d installed large posts throughout the enclosure which held up the chicken wire roof, and it was quite spacious, easily forty feet long.

Tattie hid behind a rock and peered out at us.

“Hey, bud, I know it’s scary because you’re not used to us. Yet. But here, we have a treat.” Alexander laid the tray on the sandy shore, close enough so some of the water lapped over it. Easing back, he nudged me to go around the other side.

“So basically you’re keeping his environment as natural as possible then?”

“That’s the plan. See here?” Alexander pointed to where I’d thought there was an opening in the rocks to head out to the sea. “I put more chicken wire and some smaller pieces of timber down there. It shows him the way is blocked so he doesn’t try to swim through, but it is wide enough to allow the tide to come through, along with some schools of minnows.”

“Smart,” I said, seeing now how he’d cleverly worked with the natural environment.

“Then he’s got a little swimming pool. He has dunes, grasses, and I brought more rocks in to create burrowing opportunities for him.” Alexander nodded to the various piles of rocks strewn around the sloping grass.

“And this?” I pointed to the box under the lean-to.

“It’s also an option for a burrow. It’s his choice what he decides, but once he picks his spot, that will be his spot.”

“Do they do that in the wild too?”

“Yes.” Alexander turned and looked out to the horizon. “Once they pick their burrow, they return to it year after year. It’s their spot.”

“You say they , though.”

“Yes, a breeding pair will pick a burrow together. Even if they travel apart, since scientists can’t really determine what they do when they go out to sea for so long, they’ll return to the same spot and be together. Isn’t that nice?” There was a wistful note to Alexander’s voice.

He’d built his burrow here. Alexander just needed his mate. His ex had been a fool to let this man go. He was born a nurturer.

“Look!” I grasped Alexander’s arm, excitement racing through me as Tattie hopped out from behind his rock to investigate the tray I’d left for him. Tilting his head left and right, he gnashed his orange beak, making an odd little chattering noise as he peered at the baking tray. “Oh, I hope he’ll take it.”

He pecked at the tray. Bounced back a few steps. Tilted his head a few different times, waiting to see if it was a trap, I guessed. When nothing happened, he bounced forward again, this time dipping his head deeper in and rattling about. When he came up with a fish in his mouth, I gasped.

“He did it. Oh, Alexander. He did it.”

“That’s my boy. I’m so proud.” Alexander mimed wiping a fake tear away, and I grinned, even though I was actually very near tears myself.

“Shall we go inside? It’s cold and the light’s going.”

“But will you just leave him out here?” I didn’t want him to be lonely.

“He’ll find a spot. Trust me, I’ve researched this. He easily has fifteen different sheltered spots for a nest, plus plenty of nesting type materials. But I can’t pick it for him. He needs to decide where he wants to nest.”

“That’s fair.” We ducked outside the enclosure, and Alexander secured the door. “I’m so proud of you, Alexander. He really looks so happy.”

“And he likes his toy.” Alexander nodded to where Tattie was growing more confident with digging around in my makeshift puzzle tray. “It’s a good idea. They’re used to diving for their meals, so it gives him something to do.”

Tattie popped his head up and leaned back, giving us that low call that sounded like an old man having a laugh.

“Oh my God, he’s happy. You have a happy bird.”

“No wankers here,” Alexander agreed, nudging me toward the house. “Speaking of, how are your birds?”

“Delightful. And loud.”

Alexander laughed as he held the door open for me. “A little too happy for you?”

“A little too happy early in the morning is all,” I grumbled.

“Ah yes, they must not have gotten the memo about sleeping in.”

“Did you know that I read somewhere that birds sing before dawn to wake the plants up?” I asked, stopping to take my boots off just inside the house. Alexander joined me on the bench, doing the same, and looked over at me.

“Is that right, hen?”

“Supposedly. Some guy on a farm discovered it, then analyzed the pulses of music, figured out classical music hit the same notes, started playing it for his crops and they increased their yield tenfold.”

“Truly?” Alexander’s eyes widened.

“Maybe. It could be internet legend too. I didn’t fact-check in the slightest.”

“Naturally.”

I skidded to a stop in the main room of the house, caught on the view from his windows. The last of the daylight was lingering, giving me a rough idea of how incredible it would be to sit here, during storms or sunshine, and be a part of nature but sheltered from it all the same.

“I can’t get over this room. Somehow, you’ve managed to make it both cozy but incredibly airy and open.”

“It was a labor of love, that’s for sure.” Alexander danced his fingers down my arm and then threaded them through mine. Giving me a little tug, he drew me over to a table in the corner by the windows. When I saw what was on it, my eyes widened.

“Wingspan!”

“Ah, yeah. When you mentioned there was a bird board game, I realized I was sadly remiss in adding it to my games stash.”

“Are we going to play?” I looked up at him, excited.

“Of course. I just did pizza for dinner, but we can eat while we play if you’d like?”

“Even better.” Glancing up at him, I narrowed my eyes. “Watch yourself, MacTavish. I’m ruthless.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“What are we playing for?” I asked.

“Och, the lass wants to heighten the stakes. Fine. If I win, you have to just wear that silk skirt for me again.”

My cheeks heated as I thought about his hands on my thighs, the silk slipping across my legs.

“And if I win, you have to wear your kilt for me. With no shirt on.”

“Perfect. Either way, one of us will be topless.”

My mouth dropped open. “I didn’t agree to be topless.”

“I said to just wear the skirt.”

“I didn’t take that to mean…” I trailed off, my mouth still hanging op en.

“You should always ask for clarification before you agree to something.”

“You’re annoying. But also correct. Fine, MacTavish. Let’s get going. I want to watch you squirm.”

“You’re a bloodthirsty one, aren’t you?”

“I hope you cry.”

Alexander threw his head back and laughed. Passing me as he went to the kitchen for food, he brushed his lips lightly over my cheek. Despite knowing we were just friends with benefits, I held my hand up to my cheek, my eyes on Tattie, alone in his pen outside. The puffin continued to play in the baking tray, seemingly content, but for how long before he’d grow bored and unhappy?

Turning, I watched Alexander humming in the kitchen, likely unaware he was even singing to himself.

It dawned on me then that Alexander was a mate-for-life person. No wonder he’d been so harmed when his ex-wife had felt otherwise. But did that mean he’d never give it a chance again?

And why was I even thinking this way?

Matchmaking must be making me see life through rose-colored glasses, I realized. I’d come here convinced that I was more than happy to stay single, because I’d truly never had a great love in my life. That had led me to believe that maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for me, which in turn made me convince myself that I didn’t really believe in true love. And yet, here I was, spending a large chunk of my days looking to help others find it. Everyone except myself, of course.

Heal thyself first, Doctor, and all that.

When Alexander returned, two glasses of wine in hand and a smile on his face, I swallowed against the unexpected emotion caught in my chest.

“Ready to lose?” Alexander asked.

“Not a chance in hell, mate .” I pointed to the table. “Bring it on.”