Some Like it Scottish, page 22
Chapter Fifteen
Ramsay leaned against the SUV, smiling as she huffed off. He’d give her time to shower before he headed home. But on second thought—wouldn’t it be nice to surprise her and join her there?
No. His sprite was already in a snit about something. And he refused to let it rile him.
Last night she’d been perfect. Hell, he’d been perfect, too. They were explosive—pure dynamite together. It couldn’t have gone better. Unless of course, she’d cuddled him back. But she did let him hold her as they slept in the back of the auto.
He whistled as he walked toward the dock and his boat. Hopefully, Ross and John had found him plenty of fishing gear. As he got near the dock, he slowed.
“That’s strange.” The boat was bobbing in the water right where it was supposed to be, but a tarp was hanging over the stern.
Ross popped out of the cabin, and in his hand was a paintbrush. He saw Ramsay and tucked the brush behind his back.
A sinking feeling swam over Ramsay. “Ross, what did you do?”
Ross looked around as if there was another Ross hanging out on his boat. “John and I got all the fishing gear loaded for you. Life vests and rafts are loaded, too.” He pointed to the storage cubbies under the benches with his free hand.
“That’s not what I’m speaking of,” Ramsay growled. “Why is there a tarp over the stern?” He took the last steps and came aboard, going straight for the tarp.
“We were only helping.” Ross shifted from one foot to the other. “Ye can’t take her out without a proper name.”
Ramsay pulled the tarp up and groaned. “Lil Sister?”
Ross shrugged. “John and I thought you might see the humor in it.” He patted the gunwales. “She’s a fine boat, Ramsay.”
“But Lil Sister? Can’t I have one thing in this world that’s mine and not tainted by the two of you?”
Ross pounded him on the back. “It’s better than the name we first came up with.”
“I don’t want to know,” Ramsay said.
“Pretty in Pink,” Ross supplied.
“Off my boat. Now!” It was too late to change the name. He had to shower. He had to fetch the bachelors. Later, though, he’d kick his brothers’ arses.
* * *
Kit stood in the shower, realizing too late she had washed her hair three times. She didn’t have enough bandwidth to deal with this right now—feeling vulnerable. It was all Ramsay’s fault. His lovemaking had unraveled her. Her hands, buried in her sudsy hair, froze. That was the problem. He hadn’t kept his side of the deal. It was supposed to be just sex, but he’d made love to her. The bastard. Now she was nothing more than a pile of shredded nerves. No amount of shampoo could wash away how wonderful it had been with Ramsay . . . how he’d changed her. Kit quickly rinsed and stumbled from the shower.
She had the terrible feeling that if she didn’t hurry and get out of the Armstrong household, Ramsay would find her. Peel her. And take her back to his bed. Kit knew that if he showed up, he’d use his power of persuasion on her. She was defenseless against him and what her own body wanted. Him. Again and again.
I have to get out of this town.
Kit threw on a bright summer dress—contradictory to her bad mood—and rushed out the door with her hair still wet, but at least it was combed. She resisted the urge to rush over to Duncan’s Den, the quilting dorm, to see if any of the bachelors had arrived yet. She really wanted to get a glimpse of the men, but Ramsay would be collecting them soon, and she couldn’t chance running into him. Especially with how exposed she felt. She would meet them tonight before the mixer and have each one sign a contract. She’d also explain what was expected of them.
As she arrived at Quilting Central, so did the rest of the crew—Harper and the girls. Kit held the door open for them, but Harper didn’t go inside. When all her clients had entered, Harper shut the door and faced her.
“You look like hell.” Harper brushed at the frown between her eyebrows. “What’s wrong? And where were you last night? Deydie told us not to worry, that sometimes the storms can get people stuck. Is that what happened?”
Kit batted her sister’s hand away from her face. “Yes. That’s what happened. A flash flood and no signal to call and tell you.”
“But why the frown?”
“A bad night’s sleep. Nothing else.” A lie. She’d slept great in Ramsay’s arms. But she felt branded and tagged as one of Ramsay’s possessions. She was afraid everyone could see that she belonged to him. Which wasn’t true. “There’s a lot riding on tonight, is all,” Kit explained. Now, that was an understatement. Everything was riding on tonight. But Kit wouldn’t burden her sister with the details of how this mixer could make or break their family.
Kit glanced away from Harper’s analytical eyes and opened the door for her sister.
“Yeah. A bad night’s sleep. That’s it.” Harper rolled her eyes and went in with Kit following.
She plastered a smile on her face for her clients. She was certain their nerves were getting to them. Or at least they should have been. As Kit went for a cup of coffee, Harper followed her.
“We have a problem,” Harper said. She tilted her head toward Gretchen. “She didn’t get to the dorm until after midnight.”
Kit swiveled around to look at the woman. She stared at her scone with a secretive smile on her face. “Crap. Who is she seeing?”
“I think his name is Thomas, one of the fishermen. When you didn’t come back last night, Kathleen snuck out, too. I waited up until she made it back safely, but I didn’t think it was my place to question her.”
“Hell.” Kit set her coffee cup down without filling it.
It seemed that one by one, the fishermen were picking off her girls. Kit should’ve kept her eye on the ball and taken care of her fishermen problem. What if it was too late for her bachelors when they got here? But Kit had one thing going for her. The fishermen weren’t invited to the mixer tonight. Out of sight, out of mind, she hoped. She’d have to give the bachelors a pep talk about making a good show of it for her clients. And Kit could always mention to the girls that their parents were not going to approve of them marrying fishermen. These girls were pleasers and would ultimately do what their families wanted them to do.
“Ladies, how about we get started?” Bethia stood at the front with Moira beside her. Everyone made her way to her chair and sat down to her project. “We’ll be milling around. Just holler at one of us if you have a question or need some help.”
Harper squeezed Kit’s arm. “It’s all going to work out. I promise.”
“I hope so,” Kit said. But Harper really shouldn’t be making promises she knew nothing about.
* * *
An hour later, Ramsay made his way across town to pick up Kit’s bachelors. No. Kit’s male clients.
He glanced down at the release forms in his hand. He probably should’ve had the men sign Kit’s contract when he’d gotten them to agree to come here. But heck, he didn’t know the ins and outs of the matchmaking business. The release forms he had were another matter. He was damn well going to protect his boat and his own arse from any lawsuits, should one of the bachelors get a fish hook stuck in his hand.
He thought about Kit and how grateful he was to her for this opportunity to start his own business. As soon as he could get her alone today, he’d show her how grateful he could be. With his lips. His hands. And all the other parts that the two of them had fit together last night.
And because he was a guy, and he’d thought about her at least a thousand times since waking, he imagined making love to her again. And again. Logistically, though, it would be tough to find a place for them to be alone. He’d never had to worry about this before; he’d always dated outside the village gaggle. At times like these, he wished he didn’t live with his family. While he was on the ocean today, he’d give some serious thought to finding a private place.
Outside Duncan’s Den, one of the two quilting dorms, Ramsay found Davey, Ewan, and Colin standing under the metal quilt block sign, discussing the seasonable summer weather.
Ramsay clapped Colin on the back. “Thanks for doing this, friend. It seems you’ve been doing me all kinds of favors these days.”
“Don’t worry. I’m keeping track.” It had only taken a phone call and a few words to get Colin to come to Kit’s rescue for the mixer tonight.
Davey frowned at Ramsay. “Why am I doing this again? I thought I was supposed to be focusing on myself for the first time in my life.”
Ramsay shook his hand. “Ye’re doing this to meet some bonny American lasses. Sometimes it’s nice to stop and smell the roses.”
“Are they bonny lasses?” Davey said.
“Aye.” The fishermen of the village had taken quite a shine to them, but Ramsay kept that thought to himself. “They’re refined women, too. Any one of them would make an excellent addition to the distillery,” he said, thinking to appeal to the collector in Davey. “Where are the rest of the lads?”
Colin thumbed at the dorm. “Putting their things away. Mac only just arrived.”
Ramsay had also called in a favor from his friend Mac, a clerk at the bank in Fairge. Not exactly a landowner, but a decent fellow with a steady job. How could Kit argue with that?
Ramsay straightened. “We better hurry if we’re to catch anything and get back in time for the mixer.”
The men grumbled, and Ramsay understood where they were coming from. Fishing sounded a hell of a lot more fun than a blind date.
“I’ll get the rest.” Colin made for the door.
“Here.” Ramsay handed him the papers. “Everyone needs to sign one before we get under way.”
Colin took them and went inside.
After the formalities were done, they walked to the dock together. At the first sight of his boat, Ramsay’s chest swelled. He’d finally done it. He was finally living his dream. Once aboard, he pointed out all the safety equipment, handed out the fishing gear, and then showed them where the refreshments were in the cooler. After that was done, he went to the wheelhouse to start the boat while Mac and Colin manned the lines.
It didn’t take long to get to Ramsay’s favorite fishing grounds. Once anchored, he found that all of the men knew their way around a tackle box—being Scots, they bluidy well should have known. They soon had their lines in the water. It occurred to Ramsay that he might have trouble when the Kilts and Quilts retreat had customers who weren’t Scots and avid fishermen. He’d have to have extra help aboard to bait and perhaps babysit those who weren’t born with a fishing rod in their hand. Ramsay thought of Maggie’s cousins, Robert and Samuel. The teenagers would probably like to earn some coin while hanging out on his boat. He felt it again. Everything was coming together for him.
The day flew by and Ramsay enjoyed the hell out of himself. As they pulled back into Gandiegow’s dock, he could tell his customers had enjoyed themselves, too, their fishing baskets full. He led them to the restaurant, where he’d arranged with Dominic to cook up their bounty for a premixer feast.
When they stepped into the restaurant, Bonnie, Moira, and Sinnie were there, settling food into boxes. Ramsay couldn’t stop grinning over the amazing day that he’d had. And the only one he wanted to share the feeling with . . . was Kit.
Ramsay stopped them. “What’s all this?”
Bonnie, the alpha of the three, stepped forward. “We’re taking food to the dorm for the out-of-town women.” Her tone suggested that she might be tempted to slip a bit of arsenic in their dinner. But then she seemed to notice the men crowding in around Ramsay. “Hey, fellas.”
Some of the bachelors’ taste seemed to have changed from fish to something more fleshy. Several of the men stared at Bonnie’s cleavage.
Moira nudged Bonnie’s arm. “The lasses’ dinner is getting cold.”
Davey rushed over to Moira. “Here. Let me help you with that.” He hefted the last box to his shoulder. “Where can I put it for ye?” It looked like he was flexing his muscles for her.
Moira must’ve noticed, too, because her face turned pink and a slight smile spread across her lips as her eyes dropped to the floor. “The wagon outside would be grand. Thank ye.”
Bonnie looked pointedly at several of the bachelors. “I hope to see you men later.”
That’s when Ramsay noticed that not all of the bachelors were ogling Bonnie’s exposed breasts. A few of them were staring pointedly at Moira and Sinnie as well, like they were staking their claim, too.
* * *
Perfect, just perfect, thought Kit, sarcastically, as she watched the fishermen roll in that afternoon, bringing a heavy dose of testosterone and charm. One by one they lured her clients away from their quilt blocks, baiting them with Real Men magnetism. Kit searched her brain for an excuse to run the men out of Quilting Central and lock the doors behind them.
Unfortunately, Deydie took that moment to bring the retreat to an early close, as she’d promised Kit she would. Her clients needed time to change for the mixer. But when the old matriarch said the word, half of Kit’s clients scattered with the fishermen.
Kit called for reinforcements. “Cait, can you take Harper to find Gretchen and Beatrice? And, Moira, can you help me find Morgan?”
Amy bounced her baby boy on her hip. “I’ll keep the others corralled at the quilting dorm until you get back. I’ll get Coll to help me.”
“Thank you.” Kit headed for the door, noticing that Andrew was right behind her and Moira.
“We should try the dock,” Andrew said.
“Aye.” Moira nodded at him. “Lochie probably took Morgan to his boat.”
As Kit and her crew headed for the dock, Kit decided she’d have to move to the quilting dorm for the duration of her stay, in order to keep an eye on her clients. Maggie would have to understand. It was for the best, anyway. Moving out of the Armstrongs’ house was the only way to keep from crawling back into Ramsay’s arms.
Now that they’d had sex, it was as if Kit was hooked on Ramsay. If she stayed at his house any longer, not even the rest of his family under the same roof would keep her from being with him and giving his bed a workout. And that just couldn’t happen.
Up ahead they saw Morgan stepping aboard Lochie’s boat, the one he shared with his brother. Kit felt panicked. If they cast off and she wasn’t there for the mixer, Kit would have to deal with the fallout from an unattached bachelor.
“I’ve got this.” Andrew picked up the pace, leaving the women, and calling out, “Lochie. Hold up.”
Kit relaxed when Lochie stopped. She and Moira stood and watched as Andrew talked the two out of making a getaway. When Andrew pointed to Kit, Lochie nodded, and Morgan came back with Andrew. God, she hoped Harper had had the same luck with the other runaways.
“Sorry,” her client said, keeping her head down.
“It’s okay.” Kit wrapped her arm around her. She understood—the heart wanted what the heart wanted. “Just meet the bachelors tonight. You’re under no obligation.”
Morgan looked up at her with earnest eyes. “Then I can see Lochie again?”
Kit had backed herself into a corner. “We’ll talk about it after the mixer, okay?”
Morgan’s mouth turned downward and her shoulders slumped.
“Come on. Let’s get ready for our social.” Kit worried whether Morgan’s deflated spirits were an omen for the evening.
* * *
Two hours later Kit stood in the center of Thistle Glen Lodge’s living room. She had started her day being frazzled because of Ramsay, and had stayed frazzled because of the local fishermen. But lucky for her, all her clients had been found. Though some looked well kissed. Damn the fishermen. The charming devils. Kit felt as if the universe was out to get her.
She tried to look on the bright side. The evening was young. It could still turn out okay. Harper stood guard at the doorway of the dorm with a cricket bat in hand.
“Hey.” Kit took a sip of her tea, trying not to think about all the other things that could go wrong tonight. “I’ve got a favor.”
“Anything.” Harper patted the bat like some tough guy. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”
“Playing bodyguard to a bunch of heiresses is fun?”
Harper laughed. “Yeah. Weird, huh?”
“About that favor . . .” Kit hesitated. “I think a few of our bachelors are going to be left out in the cold.”
“I’m afraid the pairing off is over and done with,” Harper agreed. “I’m pretty sure your clients won’t be interested in the men you brought in for them.”
“About that . . .” Kit averted her eyes. “I wondered if you’d be willing to be one of my clients tonight. Help entertain the bachelors. I’m going to have a tough enough time charming the men so they don’t feel like they came to Gandiegow for nothing.”
Harper laughed. “First, you’re crazy if you think Ramsay will stand for you flirting with anyone else.”
Kit chewed her lip until she realized Harper was watching her closely. “But he won’t know because he won’t be there.” Unless he crashes the party.
Harper shook her head. “You forget you’re in a small town. Ramsay will find out, one way or another. Back to your favor . . . I can’t be one of your clients because I have no interest in dating right now. Do you know how many times I’ve had to threaten the local fishermen with this bat since I’ve been here? When I tell them that I’m studying to be a nautical archaeologist, fistfights have broken out to see who gets to take me diving. You’re going to have to do something about them if you plan to make Gandiegow your base.”
“I know. But right now I have to worry about tonight.” Kit was glad she hadn’t signed Ramsay on as one of her clients. Harper was right—Ramsay would drag her from the mixer if he caught her flirting . . . which made her stomach do a little flip. She took a deep breath and plowed forward. “Do you have it all under control here?”
