Chapter 11

11

I wake up disoriented the following morning. I must have fallen asleep in Henry's arms at some point last night. The last thing I remember are his lips brushing my forehead as he tucked me in. I rub my eyes, trying to clear the fog. Yesterday seems like a dream. Better than any dream I've ever had, if I’m being honest. I turn over to look for my phone and see a note propped up to it on the nightstand.

Thank you for a day that will be the one I compare every other to. xoxo -H.

I squeal, kicking my feet, grinning like I've lost my damn mind. This can’t be real. Why does it feel like I've known him forever? Why am I acting like a fucking teenager in love for the first time? Whoa. Where did the L-word come from? I huff, annoyed with myself, and glance at my phone, then scramble out of bed. I’m half an hour late to meet Theo at the house to work on the bike. I dress in layers, puling on bike shorts, jeans, a tank top, a long-sleeve shirt, and a sweatshirt, finishing it off with my boots and some chapstick. I rush out the door only to run smack into Theo .

"Fuck!" he holds a mug away from me, steaming coffee sloshing over the edges and dripping down his hand.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry." I try to take it from him, but he holds it out of my reach. He brushes past me, setting it on the coffee table along with something wrapped in foil. "Are you okay?" I ask, grabbing his hand to look for damage.

"Do you really care?" he asks, the muscle in his jaw working.

I drop his hand, his words scalding me. "Of course I care! Do you ever wake up on the right side of the bed? Because I don’t know how much of this I can take.”

"Are you always late?" he volleys back, his eyes dark.

"I had a late night," I say, the excuse sounding hollow to my ears.

"Yeah, I saw. Are you going to climb into my lap, too?"

"Why are you such a fucking asshole?" I ask, picking up the foil packet and throwing it at his chest. He catches it easily.

"Because I'm jealous, Isla."

And there it is. Out in the open. Plain as day.

"I'm jealous of your life here, I'm jealous of the passion you have for it. I'm jealous of Dylan and Henry and the bond the three of you seem to have." He stalks toward me, making me scramble backward until I'm pressed against the window, waves crashing against the rocks far below. "I'm jealous of the air you breathe. The floor under your feet." His breath stutters, his gaze dipping to my lips.

Thunder crashes through me, pulsing in my ears, between my legs.

"Why be jealous when you can have it, too?" I ask softly, trying to steady my breathing. "You have the pub. I'm sure you can figure out a visa that allows you to stay. Although you sure as hell don't act like you like being here."

"And what about you, Sunflower? Can I have you?"

"I think you may have to fight Henry for that one."

"We share."

God, the audacity. I duck under his arm before he can see how much his words turn me on. "Then you better stop being such a goddamned douche canoe!" I toss over my shoulder as I grab the coffee and head out the door. His laugh stops me in my tracks. I turn to look at him, almost dropping the mug. His smile has transformed his entire face, and suddenly he's not Theo the Asshole, he's Theo the Hottest Guy I've Ever Seen. Fuck me. I turn on my heel, ignoring the pounding in my chest, and continue up the path. He corners me while I’m keying in the code to the garage, pushing the foil packet into my hand.

"I made you breakfast."

I don't say anything. I can't. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, and I desperately want to trace the dark shadow of his beard, the curve of his full lower lip.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk, Isla. Truly. That's been my default mode for a long time, and it's really fucking hard to turn off."

I blink. "I'll forgive you if you fix my bike."

"I’ll make you an offer. If I fix it, I get to take you out to dinner."

"On the bike?"

He nods. "Preferably, but that's not a deal breaker."

"Deal." I peel the foil away as he wheels out the bike. "What is this, exactly?"

"Chicken and Waffles. A classic southern American delicacy."

"You made this?" I eye the fluffy waffles sandwiching a huge piece of mouth-watering fried chicken, and take a gigantic bite. Flavor explodes in my mouth. Holy mother of god. "Marry me," I say around my mouthful of food. I don't care how much of an asshole he is if he can cook like this.

He laughs, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "You're a fickle creature, Isla MacLeod." He heads back into the garage before I can respond and returns wheeling the toolbox Jack gave me the year I bought the motorcycle.

"What's the best restaurant near here?" he asks after a while, wiping his hands on a rag.

"We could go into Stornoway, but the drive back at night won't be fun.” I have an internal debate about sharing one of my favorite spots. "I know a place we can get food. It's not a restaurant, though."

"As long as it's tasty and–" He stops abruptly .

"And what?" I ask, shielding the sun from my eyes so I can see his face.

"I was going to say 'as long as I get to spend time with you,' but that seems like a dangerous sentiment."

"Mmm." Should I lay my cards on the table? Tell him I want to spend time with him, too?

"Stop staring at me like that–it feels like you're looking into my soul,” he grumbles, frowning.

"I am. It's pitch black."

"Pot meet kettle," he murmurs, squatting down to grab a wrench off the ground.

"Hey! My soul is not black."

He looks up at me with those dark eyes, pinning me in place. "You're right. It's fiery red."

I like that much better.

"Because it's sitting at the right hand of the devil."

"You son of a bitch." I throw the wad of foil at him, laughing when it pings off his forehead.

Three hours later, he's still working on the bike, and I'm bored as hell. Dylan and Henry are helping at Jack's, and I refuse to leave Theo here alone while he's working on my bike for free. I scroll through all the gossip sites, catching up on the celebrity tea, and then move on to an e-book I've been trying to read for the past two months. After ten minutes of reading the same paragraph repeatedly, I decide to pull my car out of the garage and give her a good cleaning. I start on the inside, using the shop vac to clean out any stray debris, and then wipe down the seats and dashboard with a specialty cleaner. When I finish the inside, I unlace my boots and strip down to my bike shorts and tank top. I drag the hose out of the garage, hook it up to the spigot on the side of the house, and attach the sprayer. I resist the urge to drench Theo as I spray her down, then I dunk a sponge in soapy water and get to work cleaning off the grime. By the time I'm ready to rinse her off, Theo is starting up the bike and taking her for a test run. I forget the sprayer in my hand as he pulls back into the driveway, looking sexy as hell. Water pools around my feed as he parks and cuts the engine, silence enveloping us.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Heat floods my cheeks, and I give in to my impulses, tilting the spray up until it's aimed squarely at his face. I realize my mistake when he launches himself at me instead of running away, tackling me around the middle and twisting underneath me as we fall. I shriek, losing my grip on the hose. I struggle against him as water rains down all around us, successfully pushing away from him until I'm straddling his stomach.

"Hey. Look up," he says softly. I follow his gaze to find a neon rainbow stretched over us, shimmering in the sunlight. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes on me. My heart jumps to my throat as he threads his fingers through mine, the intimacy of the moment making it hard to breathe. I can't look away from how his eyelashes are sticking together in tiny points, the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip, the steady pulse in the hollow of his throat, the way I want to lick–

"Isla." My gaze collides with his, my heart galloping in my chest.

"You have a booger," he says, reaching for my face. I smack his hand away and roll off him, ducking down to look in one of the side mirrors. Nothing. "You're such a fucking ASSHOLE!" I scream, grabbing the bucket of soapy water and dumping it over him.

He pushes to his feet, water still pouring down his face, desire radiating in waves from his body. "Tell me you like to be tamed," he says, practically begging, his voice like sandpaper.

"Not by you, you goddamned twatwaffle,” I lie. I turn on my heel, grabbing my belongings before heading down the path down to the cottage.

He grabs me from behind, his arms twining around my stomach.

“You’re a terrible liar.” I suck in a breath as he traces a wide arc around my nipple. “Your nipples ratted you out.” His breath ruffles the tiny hairs on my neck, making a shiver race down my spine. “ Would you let me tie you up, control you, worship you?” I lock my knees, fighting the urge to sag against him as his fingers brush the waistband of my shorts. I break away from his hold, struggling not to look back at him as I walk down the path.

"I'll meet you back up there in twenty," I call. "You owe me dinner."