Chapter Twenty-Nine

· Twenty-Nine ·

Juliet

Will shuts the truck’s door behind me and clasps my hand. “Thanks for wanting to come.”

“You kidding?” I squeeze his hand and smile. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“You are hardly tagging along, Juliet.” His expression turns serious, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand. “I’m real happy you wanted to come.”

Staring up at him, I feel those butterflies soar through me, wild and free. We were only apart for an hour, while I freshened up and threw on a dress, and Will dashed home to change into clothes that weren’t an eighteenth-century Highlander’s, but I missed him, and now I’m a giddy jumble of joy to have him back until I have to see him off tonight.

I press up on tiptoe and kiss him. “I’m excited. I get to see you in action, all intense Mr. Business, talking whiskey.”

He grimaces, gently pulling his hand from mine. Setting it low on my back, he guides me toward the pub a couple of buildings down the block. “Please keep your expectations low. It’s a simple conversation, an obligatory whiskey at the bar, nothing interesting.”

“Maybe to you.” I peer up at him. “But to me, this is new and very interesting. You’ve spent time with my parents, my sisters, my friends—you’ve seen my life, but I’ve seen so little of yours, and now I get to. I can’t wait.”

His cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink as he shifts the small box of Orsino whiskey he brought with him, tucked under his arm. A soft smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “You can’t be sweet like this in the pub. I’ll turn bright red.” He points to one pink cheek. “ Again. ”

I bite my lip against a smile. “But I love when you blush.”

“Easy for you to say. Your face doesn’t turn bright red at the drop of a hat.”

“Okay, point taken. I’ll behave myself.”

Will’s smile widens, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders, drawing me close, as we walk toward the door. “Well. Don’t be too well behaved. We want to have some fun, don’t we?”

“So,” I whisper as we step inside the pub. “How do you want to play this?”

He snorts. “It’s a business call, Jules, not a bank heist.”

“Aw, come on. You said you wanted to have some fun. We could do a little role-playing. You’re the silent, serious, gorgeous ginger sitting at the bar sipping a whiskey. I’m the bubbly brunette who sidles up to you and asks you to tell me all about it.”

His eyebrows jump up. “Role-playing, huh?”

My cheeks heat as I smile up at him. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Can’t say I have been,” he says, his gaze dancing over my face. “But, not for the first time when it comes to you, I’m inclined to reconsider my stance.”

“What’s that mean?”

Will brushes his knuckles gently down my cheek. “It means you have a knack for inspiring this gramps to get off his rocker—out of his rocker? You know what I mean.” He frowns. “Hopefully.”

I beam up at him. “I think I do.”

Gently, Will nudges me forward. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

We settle in at the short end of the bar, away from the crowded string of people filling the long portion of the bar that stretches the depth of the building. Will rests the box of whiskey on the bar, then tugs my barstool close. I pat his thigh, smiling encouragingly. I can see his nerves setting in as he clocks the bartender down at the other end.

“What is it?” I ask.

Will scrubs at the back of his neck. “It’s easier, when I know them, but this is the first time I’ve met this owner—Mari’s her name.” He nods his chin toward the woman at the far end of the bar and clears his throat. “I just get nervous, when making introductions, trying to get an initial read on clients.”

I squeeze his leg gently, searching his eyes. “So it’s getting started that’s hard.”

He nods. “Hard er . It’s generally hard, or maybe not hard, but…draining, the socializing. It’s just less so, once they’re familiar and we have…rapport, I guess.”

“So, when we met, when you first talked about what you were looking for in your future…”

“Wife,” Will says, holding my eyes.

My heart rate doubles as he stares at me, heat in his eyes. “This is the kind of scenario where she’d team up with you? This first part is where she’d maybe…help.”

Will nods, his hand settling over mine where it rests on his thigh. “Yeah, it is.”

Marriage used to be my dream. So much so, I ran headlong toward it with my ex when he proposed after only a few whirlwind months together. Now I think about it differently. I think about it as a place where I might one day find myself on the path of a loving journey, not the destination I’m desperate to rush toward.

Still, the word wife coming from Will’s deep, quiet voice makes something stir inside me, an excitement, a quiet, curious maybe someday whisper through my thoughts.

I turn my hand so our palms touch, curl my fingers around his big, callused hand. “Will…”

“Yes, Jules.” He peers down at me, his gaze warm and intense.

“Maybe today, I could do that? If…you wanted?”

His cheeks heat. “Be my wife?”

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “Be your teammate .”

“You did throw out the possibility of role-playing,” he says.

“I did.” I search his eyes. “But not that one. I don’t want to play a part with you anymore, at least, not a romantic one.”

Will nods. “I don’t want that, either. I think I made it pretty clear last night, but if not…no more practice? Now it can just be…us?”

I smile so wide it makes my cheeks ache. The joy that spills through me feels too big to contain. “Just us.”

His thumb sweeps across the back of my hand as he stares at me. He’s quiet for a moment, before he says, “Do you…do you think one day, you’ll want to be…married?”

My stomach knots, and my heart clangs against my ribs. “Someday, I think so. If it’s right, if the person I love”—that word’s weight ripples through the space between us, shimmering with promise—“if they wanted it, too.”

Will nods, a faint smile lifting his mouth. “Good to know.”

The owner Will nodded toward when we came in, Mari, who’s been down at the far end of the bar, seems to have appeared out of nowhere, flicking coasters onto the bar and clunking down two waters. We pull apart just enough to turn and face her.

“Hi,” she says flatly. Her short, dark hair is mussed, her tattooed skin shiny with sweat. She looks fried and stressed.

I’ve lived in the city and spent enough time in bars to recognize a frazzled, worn-out bartender. I flash her a warm smile. “Hi.”

“How are ya?” Will says politely.

“Oh, I’m shit,” she says.

Will falters. “Uh.” He clears his throat. “Sorry to…hear it.”

Mari grunts in response.

“Long day?” I ask.

She gives me a quick, weary glance, dragging a couple of empties off the bar top nearby and dunking them into the soapy water on her side of the bar. “And it’s going to get even longer. My musicians canceled. Got food poisoning, the assholes.”

I grimace sympathetically. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate,” Mari says, “is an understatement. These weren’t just any run-of-the-mill performers that I can try to get last-minute replacements for—they sing and play Scottish folk songs, and I have a whole goddamn horde of the Scottish Society members about to show up here, expecting a whole afternoon of traditional music that I promised them. And I just ran out of their preferred whiskey. Fucking shipping notification said it would be here three days ago.” She wipes the sweat off her forehead, glaring down at the soapy bubbles. “I’m screwed.”

“What kind of Scottish folk songs are we talking about?” I ask.

Will gives me a What are you up to? look.

I squeeze his hand.

Mari unearths her phone, taps it a few times, then spins it on the bar top, so I can see an email with a lineup of songs. My gaze drifts down the list.

And an idea comes to me. I squeeze Will’s hand again. Trust me, okay?

“You happen to have a guitar lying around?” I ask her.

Mari glances up, her gaze narrowed. “Yes. Why?”

I smile brightly. “Because I might be able to help you out. I can do that set.”

She blinks. “ You know all those songs? And you can play them on the guitar?”

“You pick up a lot when you spend a month in Scotland,” I tell her. “And while I’m not as great a guitarist as I used to be, I can still probably manage to strum simple chords and accompany myself.”

Will squeezes my hand again. I can feel his concern radiating off him in waves.

“You’re shitting me.” Mari folds her arms across her chest. “Seriously?”

I softly sing the first few lines of “The Skye Boat Song.” When I’m done I flash a little jazz hands and smile. “You tell me.”

Mari’s arms drop to her sides, her expression stunned. “You’re hired.”

My smile widens. “Glad to be able to help. I think we might be able to help you with your other problem, too. The…whiskey shortage?”

I glance to Will, raising my eyebrows. He glances from me to the bartender, then to the box of whiskey he set on the stool beside him.

Mari frowns as he lifts the box and rests it on the bar. Then Will offers his hand across the bar and says, “Will Orsino. Great to finally meet you.”

Mari takes his hand, shakes it firmly, then folds her arms across her chest. “Orsino Distillery.” She nods. “Sells well. But it’s not the Scottish Society’s favorite.”

Will flips open the box lid and unearths a beautiful glass whiskey bottle that glows butterscotch in the light. A dark blue label, intricate gold lettering that spells out Orsino Distillery’s name, and below it, Aged 30 Years .

“Trust me,” Will says, uncorking the bottle, reaching for a glass that sits, inverted, at the bar’s edge. He flips it over, deftly pours a taste, and slides it Mari’s way. “Soon, it’s going to be.”

—

Will’s been watching me as I sit in a quiet corner on the other side of the pub with Mari’s guitar in my lap, willing my fingers to do what I want them to. But they really aren’t. I can strum, very bare-bones, but even that makes my wrists ache.

“Shit,” I mutter, shaking out my hand.

I glance over my shoulder and catch Will glancing my way again, torn from focusing on his conversation with Mari, which seems to be going fine, now that he got over the initial nerves of meeting her and introducing himself.

I nod toward her, indicating he should focus on Mari, then mouth, I’m okay!

He gives me an intense look and lifts his pinkie. A reminder that I’d be honest.

I grimace and revise: I’m so-so .

Will turns back to Mari, seems to politely excuse himself, then walks right toward me.

“Hey, big guy.” I bat my eyelashes, trying for a wide, breezy, no problems here smile. “Things seem to be going well with Mari.”

“It hurts,” he says without preamble, pointing at my hands clutching the guitar.

I sigh. “Yeah, it hurts. I think I might just have to sing and wing it without the guitar. Which I really don’t mind. Ya girl’s done her fair share of karaoke, and those machines crap out more often than you think. I’m a seasoned veteran of singing unaccompanied, at this point.”

Will drags a chair from the nearby table and sits, then gestures for the guitar. “I’ll take that, if you don’t mind.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Because,” Will says, starting to pluck at the strings, bending his head to listen for its pitch. He’s tuning it. “You won’t be singing unaccompanied.” He peers up and gives me one of those adorable, delightful double-blink winks. “You’ll have me.”

—

Dusk hangs heavy in the sky, lilac streaks against the deep orange dying light. I stand on tiptoe on the sidewalk outside my apartment, my arms wrapped around Will as we kiss. “I had the best time.”

Will sighs against my mouth. “Me, too. You have such a beautiful voice, Jules.”

“Ah.” I wrinkle my nose. “It’s fine.”

“It’s beautiful ,” he says softly. “You had the whole place wrapped around your finger.”

“The Scottish Society did seem pretty happy,” I admit.

“As did Mari,” he says. “Jules, between her and the Scottish Society, we sold so much damn whiskey.” A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Fest is going to go cross-eyed when he sees those orders.”

I rest my hands on his chest. “You did that, Will.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “ We did.” He smiles down at me, cupping my face. “Maybe we make a good team, you and me.”

I smile up at him, my hand resting over his heart. “Maybe we do.”

He bends for a kiss, but I stop him right before he can. Will frowns. “Why won’t you let me kiss you?”

“Because you need to know I am furious with you!” I kiss him hard, to ease his disappointment, to reassure him I’m only being playful. “You were holding out on me. The incredible guitar skills, all that fancy talk about whiskey when you were charming the Scottish Society! What other secrets does Will Orsino hold?”

He grins and steals a swift, soft kiss. “Suppose you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you, lass?”

It’s like a thunderbolt rattling through me, the impact of his words. Because he didn’t just say them; he said them with a soft, burring Scottish accent.

My mouth drops open. “You were dressed like a Highlander last night and you didn’t talk to me like that? Not once ?!”

His smile deepens, and he nuzzles my nose with his. “Had to make sure you liked me for my charming personality, first, Juliet. Couldn’t risk you falling only for my dashing Highlander persona.”

A laugh jumps out of me. “Though your capacity to fulfill the Highlander fantasy is definitely a perk, I’ve fallen for every part of you.”

Will stares down at me, his gaze intense and heated. “I’ve fallen for every part of you, too, Jules.”

Those butterflies race through me, and my heart skips. It feels so wonderful, so good, and for a moment, fear whips through me, a vicious wind scattering those happy butterflies.

What if all of this is too good to be true?

Trust it , that quiet voice inside me whispers. Be brave, Juliet.

“It’s late,” Will says quietly. “I should get on the road.”

I nod, pushing away the fear, reaching for my courage. “You should.”

Will’s hands drift, low on my back, then lower, curving affectionately over my ass. He tucks me close, kisses me hard again, then pulls away, dropping his forehead to mine. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

My eyes slip shut, my fingers scraping softly through his hair. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

Will leans back enough to stare down at me, his eyes searching mine. He tucks my hair behind my ear, his thumb softly sweeping my bottom lip. “I’ll figure out a way to come down on Friday. I know it’ll only be a day earlier, but it’s better than nothing. I don’t think I can last five days without you.”

I draw his thumb into my mouth and suck. He groans, scowling playfully down at me. “Juliet, behave yourself.”

“You said I shouldn’t behave too much,” I whisper, holding his eyes as I flick the tip of his thumb with my tongue.

His eyes darken. “Don’t look at me like that.”

I let his thumb go with a pop. “Like what?” I ask innocently.

He shakes his head. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Fine,” I whisper, peeling myself away from him, but then giving up and throwing my arms around his waist, hugging him hard. “Just come back, okay?”

He hugs me tenderly, his arms curled around my shoulders, his mouth pressed to my hair. “I will, Jules. I promise.”

I let him go, somehow, my arms clutched around me against the cool evening breeze as I watch his truck pull away. His arm darts out from his window.

I throw my arm up into the air and wave, pressed on tiptoe. I wave and wave until his truck turns the corner.

Just as he’s out of sight, the wind shifts and turns warmer, like a blanket wrapped around me.

Love , it seems to whisper, as it rustles the leaves above me. Love.

I stand on the sidewalk, rooted to the pavement. And for the first time since it started drifting through me, I let it stay—the knowledge, the truth that snuck up on me, like a slow drip into a bucket that’s now filled to overflowing, spilling out no matter how hard I try to keep it in. I love Will.

I don’t know if Will is ready to say that yet, if he feels that way. But I know my heart, and for me, for now, that’s enough.

Slowly, I let myself into the building, take my time up the stairs, humming the first song I sang while Will plucked deftly at the guitar beside me. I feel warm to the bone, remembering that, remembering last night. Everything that happened in such a small, sweet window of time. Everything that came before it, slower, softer, leading us to this.

Back inside my apartment, I shut the door behind me, then traipse across my apartment, down the hallway to my room.

For the first time since I met Will, I’m excited for the inevitable that will come, once I fall asleep. Because I know the kinds of dreams I’m going to have, the dreams I’ve been having for him.

And this time, when I wake up in the morning, I’ll enjoy the memory of those dreams, knowing Will’s out there, wanting me, waiting as eagerly for me as I am for him—for the next time those dreams can all come true.