17. Emma

"I'm looking forward to this," Anna says as we get ready in my bigger bedroom.

"Me too." I wiggle into my skirt and shove a sleeveless top over my head. After the rain, the sun came out, and it went hot and humid. Deciding on flat sandals in case we do a bit of walking—who knows if there is more than one pub around here—I sit down on the bed and strap them up. "I love that cottage," I add dreamily.

"Me too," she says with a giggle. "It's too cute, but also spacious. It's the best of both worlds."

"Yeah, and the garden is amazing. We could have a barbecue and invite Fiona."

"Yes! She is so nice. I like her."

Smiling at the Anna seal of approval, I stand up to apply a bit of mascara and lippy. I want to look nice but not like the ‘highflying Londoner' Fiona called me.

"Do you think this is fate? You know, Fiona being Lachlan's sister?" Anna asks slyly.

"What has fate got to do with it? It's small-town living for you."

"Hmm," she mutters, but doesn't sound convinced. I swear she is still holding out for her ginormous fantasy man with his tackle swinging underneath his kilt.

As we step out into the evening, the sky is bright blue, and the sun is still shining. It's a perfect evening for a few bevvies with new and old friends.

Anna hooks her arm through mine, excitement bubbling from her like champagne.

We reach The Lamb and pass people sitting out on a roped-off terrace, enjoying the summer sun. We stride through the open door into the buzz of conversation, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The place is lively, with clusters of people enjoying their Friday evening.

"Emma!" Fiona waves us over to a corner, where she's sitting at a table with chairs around it. Anna and I weave through the crowd to join her, sitting down and greeting each other like we haven't just seen each other a few hours ago.

As Fiona and Anna get chatting about Anna's impromptu move up here, I say, "I'll get the first round. Bottle of wine for the table?"

"Sounds good," Anna says and carries on chatting as Fiona smiles and nods.

I stand up and make my way to the bar to order.

As I wait for my turn at the bar, I scan the room. It's a tapestry of local life—old men with tales as deep as their wrinkles, young couples huddled in booths and the loud table of post-work mates unwinding after a long week. The air is thick with the scent of ale and the hearty warmth of pub grub.

The bartender, a middle-aged chap with a beard that could rival any Viking, catches my eye and gives me a nod. "What can I get you?"

"A bottle of your house white, please, and three glasses," I reply, flashing him what I hope is a charming smile.

He nods and sets to work quickly.

I pay and pick up the bottle and three glasses as I turn back to our table. Sitting back down, I see Fiona scowling over my shoulder before she shoots her gaze back to me and smiles, pushing her dark hair away from her face. "Everything okay?" I ask, looking over to where she was glaring but don't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Yep, fine and dandy," she says, shaking her head and picking up the glass I pour her.

We settle into a decent chat about life, the weather, the new cottage, the drive up from London and everything else. Anna gets up to get another round in and soon we are laughing and cackling at the dumbest things as the wine starts to take over. The buzz feels great, and the vibe of this place is amazing.

"Going to get some water," I murmur after a couple of hours of nonstop drinking and chatting. Anna and Fiona wave me off, and I step away, heading towards the bar and right into the path of two extremely good-looking guys.

Focusing on their faces, I smile. "Let me guess. Lachlan McLeod and Keir Drummond. Fancy meeting you here." I giggle at my own lame joke.

"Emma Thornton," Lachlan almost purrs at me. "You're enjoying yourself?"

"Very much so," I murmur, pushing past him, smelling of gorgeous aftershave as I order a water at the bar. He and Keir flank me on either side and I don't know if it's the wine or what, but I suddenly feel quite horny.

Keir leans in, his arm grazing against mine, and I swear there's a spark of electricity. "It's good to see you again," he says with a slightly awkward charm of his, and it's all too adorable.

I take a sip of my water, trying not to show how much his close proximity is affecting me. "Still don't remember you," I say with a laugh, which he returns.

"Now is what matters."

"So you come here often?" I ask.

"Sometimes. Fiona told me you'd be here," Lachlan says with a sexy half-smile that makes my stomach flutter.

"Bad sister," I murmur, taking another sip of water.

He leans in closer. "Best sister." His tone is a little bit too seductive for my current state of mind. I gulp back more water as he chuckles. "We were just about to play a round of darts. Care to join us?" His blue eyes gleam with mischief and something else I can't quite place.

Glancing back at the table where Anna and Fiona seem engrossed in conversation, I shrug. "Why not? It's not every day I get challenged by the Captain of the Warriors."

The guys lead the way to the dartboard in a corner of the pub.

Keir hands me a set of darts with a lopsided grin. "No pressure, Emma. Just try not to hit any innocent bystanders."

I step up and aim. The first dart flies wide and thuds into the woodwork. "Shit," I mutter with a laugh.

"Close enough," Lachlan teases, stepping back as I throw again. This time, it hits the board, though nowhere near the bullseye. I stick out my tongue at him playfully.

"Your form could use some work," Keir comments, but he's grinning, which doesn't help my concentration one bit.

I wave a dismissive hand at him, determined to get the next one right. "Backseat darting isn't a thing, Drummond," I retort just before letting my third dart fly. It hits the outer circle, and I let out a triumphant "Ha!" My inhibitions have flown out of the window, and I'm raring to go.

I catch Anna's eye, and she presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. Fiona shakes her head with mock annoyance and shouts out across the pub, "I didn't invite him, just so you know!"

"It's fine!" I call back and then stare into Lachlan's deep blue eyes. "He's harmless."

The chemistry that was simmering between us shoots up a few notches. "Wanna bet?" he murmurs and moves around my back, taking my hand in his strong, cool grip. My heart batters my ribs, and my mouth goes dry. "Let me show you how it's done."

He guides my arm easily, but the electric current zipping through me is hard to ignore.

This is bad. So bad.

But wild horses couldn't drag me away.

I try to focus on the dartboard ahead, but Lachlan's proximity is a distraction like no other. The scent of his aftershave, the warmth of his body just inches from mine—it's almost too much. But I'm not about to back down now. I take in a deep breath and let him adjust my stance.

"Relax your shoulders," he instructs, his voice low and close to my ear.

I do as he says and feel the tension slipping away under his guidance. "Now, when you're ready," he continues, "align your eye with the dart and where you want it to go."

My hand trembles slightly as I pull back, ready to take the shot. I release the dart and watch it fly, hitting closer to the bullseye, but still not great. A cheer erupts from Anna and Fiona, who have moved to a table closer. I smile gratefully at them for not leaving me in the hands of these two party boys.

"Not bad, Thornton," Lachlan says approvingly, stepping back to give me some space. "You've got potential."

I lock gazes with Keir who is watching this with narrowed eyes. He smiles. It's slow and just as seductive as his mates. Warning bells ring in my head through the haze of the vino, and I lick my lips. This is wrong. I'm their boss. Is this part of their master plan to somehow discredit me? The doubts creep in, and I step back.

"I'll get another round," Keir says. "Emma?"

"Just a soda water, please," I croak, knowing I have to call it quits on the booze, or I'll do something stupid. "I'm going to the ladies."

I slip away before anyone can say another word, pushing through the door that leads down a small, dim corridor to the toilets. Relieved at the coolness that hits me, I wave my hand in front of my face and walk a bit unsteadily into the ladies.

Finishing up a few minutes later, I exit and turn right, but after a few steps, I realise I've gone the wrong way. The door behind me opens, and I hear the noise of the pub filter down the corridor before being cut off again as the door closes.

"Thought I'd better check on you," Lachlan says. "You okay?"

My cheeks flush. "Yeah, fine."

Lachlan's laughter is rich and relaxed. "Good. Can't have our team owner getting into trouble, can we?" He moves in closer and the air between us sparks up with enough electricity to power the Highlands. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from my neck, staring deep into my eyes. He is really tall, over six feet, towering over me like a god with a body I want pressed against me.

Despite all of my better judgement, I let the booze take over again and I reach up to grip his tee firmly as I pull him closer. His lips curve up before they crash against mine, fierce and demanding. His hand curls at the nape of my neck, anchoring me as I melt into the kiss, all thoughts of professionalism evaporating like mist over Loch Ness.

My brain knows this is a line that shouldn't be crossed, but my body is in full rebellion. The taste of him is intoxicating, like peaty whisky and victory all rolled into one. I respond with equal passion, pressing myself against his solid chest.

"Emma," he murmurs against my lips, his voice is full of desire and a warning that we are teetering on the edge of something that could complicate everything.

I pull back slightly, panting, staring up at him with wide eyes. "This is insane," I say, but my traitorous hands don't let go of his shirt.

Lachlan's smile is all mischief now. "Insane but fun," he counters, his blue eyes sparkling with a cheeky daredevil attitude that no doubt makes him a legend on the ice as he presses even closer to me, pushing me up against the cool tiles of the wall behind me.

"We can't," I stammer out weakly, even as part of me screams yes, we bloody well can.

He leans in so close that his nose brushes mine. "Why not?"

The list is long—team morale, gossip, my own blasted idea to keep this professional—but as he waits for an answer, every reason pales in comparison to the fact that I want him. He leans down and kisses me again, his hand sliding over my butt and pulling my skirt up so he can touch my skin.

I gasp into his mouth, the warmth of his hand searing against my thigh. He's all rough edges and fire, and I'm the kindling that's dangerously close to igniting.

But then, the sound of footsteps echoes down the corridor, and reality crashes back into me like a rogue puck.