Chapter 8

8

T he sun is barely peeking its sleepy head above the horizon as I step outside, pulling the cottage door closed behind me. It's unusually cold for this time of year–even my parka and scarf can't keep the chill away as I climb up the path to the house. I text Henry for the third time this morning. No answer. I knock softly on the front door, hoping he's pulling on his sneakers and ready to head to the gym. I'm about to knock again when Henry's arm snakes out and pulls me inside.

"I'm sorry, Isla. I didn't hear my alarm," he apologizes, pulling me up the stairs and into his room. "It'll only take me two seconds to get ready." My brain can't form a response, my gaze glued to the expanse of sleep-warmed skin only inches away from me. I clench my fists, resisting the urge to reach out.

"Isla. Look at me," he says, his voice rough with sleep. I don't dare, scared of what he'll see. "Isla." The command in his voice has me looking up, the raw desire in his eyes causing me to stumble back a step. "Good girl." He holds my gaze as he pulls on an old T-shirt. "Now that I'm safely clothed, what was that about?" he asks, stepping so close I have to strain my neck to keep eye contact .

I clear my throat. "I was thinking how you'll need another layer. It's cold out."

"No, you weren’t."

Fuck. "I was thinking about crawling under those covers and warming up." He cocks an eyebrow, snagging my hands from where I have them crossed over my chest.

"God, you're freezing."

"I told you it was cold–" I shriek as he grabs me around the waist and tosses me onto the bed. "My boots!"

"It's laundry day, so I'm washing the sheets anyway," he says, the bed dipping as he lies down behind me, pulling the covers over us."Can I–?"

"Yes," I whisper, having no idea what he's asking me but cognizant of the fact that I would say yes to anything he asks me right now. His broad hand splays over my hip, and he pulls me tight against his body, wrapping me in his arms. I melt into his heat, wedging my frozen fingers between his forearm and bicep.

"Better?" he asks, his chin settling on the crown of my head.

"Now that I know you're the human form of a furnace, I may take advantage of you."

His chuckle slides through me like whiskey, setting my nerve endings on fire. "I'd like that."

Tension slithers around us like a snake, making it hard to breathe. "You're not as prickly today," he muses, the warmth of his breath feathering over my ear. "More like a thicket of blackberries. You know you'll get torn up, but it's worth it for that sweet burst of juice in your mouth."

I snort. "You could be a poet," I say, sarcasm dripping from my words.

"Isla, a lass in the Highlands so grand, with fiery red hair and a freckled hand. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief and glee, in a castle up high, she lived wild and free."

My jaw drops. I twist in his arms to face him. "That was actually good! "

"I'm feeling a little offended by your surprise," he chuckles, blue eyes sparkling.

"It's just that–" I stop before I say something offensive. "Do you write poetry often?"

"I've been writing since grade school. Mostly songs, but I suppose that counts as poetry."

"Will you write me a song?" I ask, sitting up, excited by the idea. Henry's eyebrows shoot up, his gaze softening. He folds his arm behind his head, his bicep bulging obscenely.

"Yes. I would love to write you a song."

I clap my hands. "Good. I can't wait." I glance at my watch. "We should probably get going. It may be too late for a swim, but we could hit the gym and then grab a coffee at the café afterward."

"That sounds good. Give me a minute to get ready." He sits up, kissing me on the cheek before disappearing into the bathroom. I cover my cheek with my hand after he closes the door, dumbfounded at the range of emotions ping-ponging inside my brain. I take a deep breath and reel myself back. When it all comes down to it, he's technically just another tourist who will end up leaving.

I can still feel his hand on my hip, the way his fingers brushed over my stomach. I know in my gut that he would absolutely rock my world and then break my heart when he returned to the States. I stuff my feelings into the deep recesses of my heart and climb off the bed, heading back downstairs before I do something stupid like join him in the bathroom.

"Want to drive?" I ask him, dangling the keys in the air as he jogs down the stairs in a navy-blue sweatsuit.

"Seriously?"

I shrug. "If you want to." What the fuck has gotten into me? I never let anyone drive her. Ever.

"You trust me?"

With my life , I want to say, but I clamp my mouth closed and toss him the keys. I mentally shake myself. Get it together, MacLeod .

It takes Henry a mile or two to get the feel of it. He looks so happy that I don't say a word when we fly past the gym. After about ten minutes, I show him where to turn to loop back.

"Why didn't you tell me we passed it?" he asks, catching on immediately.

"You were having too good of a time getting to know her to end it that quickly."

He slows and looks over at me, dark shaggy hair ruffling in the wind, a huge smile on his face. "Thank you, Isla. It's been a while since I've driven a car like this."

"Did you used to race with Theo?" I ask, trying to keep my breathing under control as he grabs my hand and pulls it into his lap.

"Another lifetime ago. I was eighteen and thought I could make it with the big boys." He moves our hands to the gear stick, shifting through the gears as we accelerate. Fucking hell.

"What happened?"

"Theo got in a wreck, and it scared the shit out of me. Seeing him in that hospital bed drove home the risks. I decided I wanted to be around to have a family one day. I never raced again."

I want to ask about what happened to Theo, but I know it will mean more when–if–he opens up and tells me himself. Henry follows my directions and pulls into the parking lot, ducking to get a full view of the building.

"I thought you said this was a small gym."

"It is. Well, at least it started that way." I key the code in the door, and Henry opens it for me, following me through, a chorus of hellos greeting us. "Henry, this is everyone." I raise my voice, "Everyone, this is Henry!" He waves at them, a shy, goofy smile on his face.

"You want to meet back here in an hour?" I ask, checking my watch.

"I thought we were working out together," he asks, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Oh. "That seems like a horrible idea," I blurt out.

"Am I really that bad? Do I smell?" he asks, looking horrified.

"No," I grumble, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to the squat racks so we’re not making a scene. "I'll only work out with you if you show me how to get quads like yours." Henry sits on a bench, peeling off his hoodie to reveal a fitted athletic shirt. God. This is going to be absolute fucking torture. He slides off his sweatpants next, revealing shorts that perfectly show off the corded muscle of his thighs.

"Damn boi, he thicc!" Lach calls across the gym, wiggling his eyebrows when I look at him in mortification.

"That's a compliment coming from him," I say, my words muffled as I pull my sweater over my head.

He drops his face into his hands, peeking out at me through his fingers. "Damn it, Isla."

"What?" I look down at my sports bra, making sure everything's tucked in. His shoulder is warm beneath my palm as I use him to steady myself as I slip off my shoes and drop my yoga pants, folding everything up and stacking it neatly on the end of the bench, waiting for him to do the same. He stands without looking at me, setting his clothes beside mine.

"What's first?" I ask, trying to keep the smile off my face as he looks everywhere but directly at me.

"I usually start with split squats."

"Aren't those when you put your foot on a bench behind you and squat with one leg? Like this?"

He faces away from me and drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you not going to look at me the whole time?"

"What's that saying? Gouge your eye out if it causes you to sin?"

"If that's the case, we can gouge them out together because I've been sinning since you took your sweats off."

"You're not making this any easier."

"We're adults. I chose to wear this here. It's what I always work out in." He doesn't say anything. "I'm giving you explicit permission to look at me, Henry."

He turns finally. "Fuck," he says softly, his gaze like electricity crackling over my skin. "I think you were right. It would be better if we work out separately."

"Scared of a little tension?" I tease.

"A little?" He steps closer, backing me against the squat rack. "There's nothing little about this." He doesn't even have to touch me for my body to respond to him. My nipples harden under his gaze, the energy buzzing between us lodging in my core, burning like wildfire through my veins.

"Come back to the cottage with me," I blurt out, raging lust making every single line blur.

"Not yet." He grabs my wrist before I can duck away from him, my pride wounded. "This is more than that, Isla, and you know it." He nudges my chin with his finger, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"What if I don't want more than that?" I ask.

"Don't lie."

"Henry–"

"Look. It's too late." He holds his hands up in surrender. "That thorny personality of yours has dug its claws into my heart and isn't letting go. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want this, and I'll leave you alone." He backs up a step as if to prove his point.

I can't do that because I want it more than anything. "I'll rip you to shreds," I whisper.

"And I'll love every second of it.”