Chapter Twelve

The car purred to life, but instead of immediately backing out, he pushed buttons on the navigation system. She wasn’t sure where the address would take them, only that it was close to the Rose and Thistle.

Alec did all thirteen hours of the drive to Atlanta. Evie half-protested once they made it through Kansas City, offering to take the wheel and let him rest, but he only gave her a withering look and possessively tightened his hand on the leather steering wheel.

She stifled a yawn, thankful he didn’t take her up on the offer, and leaned her head against the passenger side window. He closed the distance between them, wrapping her hand in his then pulling it toward him to rest their entwined fingers over the gear shift. The gentle hum of the engine vibrated up through it as he lightly ran his thumb over the soft side of her hand, and in moments, she was fast asleep.

Her nap was short-lived, lasting only until he stopped halfway through Missouri to fill up the gas tank. As the dark countryside sped by, she found herself having the conversations she would have had before sleeping with him. Conversations that take place in coffee shops and across a dinner table. Getting to know one another conversations they would have had sooner if her world wasn’t quite so inside out.

They arrived sometime around noon, and he steered them through the tree-lined streets dwarfed by turn-of-the-century mansions, the odd antebellum mixed in. Grand old ladies, they held court with their expansive porches, great gables, and manicured lawns. Many were done up in beautiful, artful Christmas lights, though one had a whole pack of blow-up snowmen and reindeer. She preferred it. The ridiculousness and child-like whimsy interspersed between classic holly and tasteful boughs of pine.

The main street took them right through the town square where the lamp posts were wrapped in garlands and sparkling white lights and an enormous tree shot up toward the sky next to a splashing fountain. The Thistle and Rose was huddled in the center of it all, tucked in between a bakery and a children’s boutique.

She pointed it out, but Alec kept going until they reached a sprawling hotel on the other side of town. It was long and white, Georgian in style with thick Grecian columns and a perfectly symmetrical facade. It, too, was festively draped in twinkling white lights and large evergreen boughs. Just inside the glass-fronted doors, an enormous Christmas tree draped in reds and golds stood in the main lobby.

He left her in the car and secured a room, coming back to pull around into a parking spot and escort her to a third-floor suite. Evie fell backwards onto the king-sized bed, sighing as her tired muscles stretched, and then turned to her side, propping her head on her elbow.

“What’s the plan?” she asked lazily.

Alec dropped the bag he’d carried up on the wing-backed chair in the corner before falling down beside her.

She bounced up a little as he hit the mattress, the delicate white fluff of the comforter lapping up at their sides.

“Sleep.”

Evie giggled and inched closer, nuzzling her head against his shoulder. “You’re not tired, are you?”

“Can’t even begin to describe it.” He curled his arm around until his hand was on her shoulder. He rubbed it, squeezing gently.

“You sure?” she asked mischievously. But she had no answer; his breathing already slipped into the heavy, even rhythm of sleep.

Despite her own dry, burning eyes, she twisted her head up to regard him. His auburn eyelashes lay fanned out across his cheeks, longer and fuller than was fair, and his features gained some innocence she never would have expected to see there. He appeared younger, the stress he carried with him melting away, and leaving behind a hint of youthfulness.

She shifted, rolling onto her side, her head still nestled on his shoulder, and reached up a hand, caressing his cheek with her fingertips. It was rough with stubble, and she dragged the pad of her thumb down over the cleft in his chin. How easy it was to become enchanted with him. To get lost in him. She dropped her hand to his chest and snuggled closer, breathing in his scent.

She hadn’t slept particularly well in the car, but her eyes still refused to close. Naps had never been a particular strength of hers, and mind racing, she counted the possibilities of what they might find at the shop. It was unlikely anything there would be of any consequence, and yet, a niggling remained in the back of her mind: Iain must have had good reason to keep that slip of paper in his pocket.

****

The ring arced before her on a delicate silver chain, swinging back and forth, back and forth. Winking in the dim, orange glow of the fire, the center stone was only a breath away from hitting the tip of her nose. It was so familiar. How did she know it? The memory played on the outskirts of her mind, just beyond reach. She almost grasped it when—

“Evelyn.”

Her eyes opened with a jerk.

Alec stood over her, his short hair wet. Face dewy and smooth, the stubble she admired before was completely gone. A white hotel towel rested low over his hips, and he was bare-chested, droplets still clinging to his chest hair. She blushed and quickly turned her gaze away to stare over his shoulder, hoping he didn’t catch her admiring him.

“Evelyn,” he repeated, a bit of amusement in his voice.

He canted his head to the side and when their gazes met, the heat of her cheeks was so severe, it seared.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep. How long have you been awake?” She cleared her throat, refusing to look him in the eye, again.

“Not long. Hungry?”

She sat up and assessed. “Starving.”

He turned to his pack and rifled through it, pulling out some clothes. He dragged a plain white undershirt over his head. “There’s a restaurant downstairs if—”

She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we can find something a little more casual? We could walk down to where all the shops and restaurants are? My roommate in college was from somewhere around here, I think, and she always talked about an Irish pub. I would die for a beer and some fish and chips right now.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than her stomach grumbled. And though that same roommate had raved about a Cajun restaurant and a restaurant where rum punch was served in buckets, she craved the deep-fried seafood and potatoes. Nothing else was going to be an acceptable substitute.

“Well, I see no need for that. Fish and chips it is, then.” He buttoned his jeans over his hips, and then sank down beside her to pull socks over his feet.

She bounced off the bed, grabbed up her purse from the side table, and slipped the strap over her head. “Can we find an ATM, first? I need to get some cash.”

“No, I’ve got it covered. Besides, you can’t be making withdrawals in Georgia while you’re holed up in Kansas, remember?”

She pursed her lips and made a face. “I can’t let you do that.”

He pulled a gray shirt over his head. “And why not?”

“Well, because…. Because.” She stopped while she thought about it. “Because it makes me feel weird.”

He rolled his eyes and stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. “Well, stop.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and there was a bite to the wind. She slid her arm through his, curling her elbow around to tuck her fingers between his bicep and her chest. His warmth pressed into her side. Did they look like a real couple strolling down the street, arm-in-arm? It was a silly thought.

She tilted her head back and took in the set of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the warmth inside her chased the cold away.

****

“What?” he asked, perplexed as she beamed up at him.

They waited for the walk signal to flash, and she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, glancing up at him through the dark fringe of her lashes. She had never looked at him like that before. Sure, there had been some moments, like that first time they had met in the bookstore, when she saw him with fresh, curious eyes. Or when she was drunk on desire and a hair too much whisky. But never had she gazed up at him like he was the only other person in the world.

An ache formed in his chest, one he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He forced a smile of his own, and was saved by the walk signal flashing at them.

They crossed to one of the shop-lined sidewalks. The Thistle and Rose stood dark at their backs, and though Alec was curious about what link the location held to Iain and Mora, he could wait to find out until the next day. Something about it didn’t sit well with him, and he preferred to get lost in her than pulled toward whatever was inside Flora MacDonald’s shop.

She bumped into him as they strolled by a boutique, a magic shop, a little cafe, a dance studio, and a few antique stores, her head whipping around to take in the wares displayed in windows, her eyes sparkling and unburdened. All were closed but the dance studio, a light shining through white plantation shutters, offering only a cursory view of dancing silhouettes, piano music muffled by the glass and glossy wood.

Across the next intersection rose the pub, housed inside an old firehouse, the front brick façade three stories tall. Customers spilled out onto the sidewalk, young, college-aged students intermingling with the middle-aged and retired, a rainbow of people and experiences.

He pressed Evie in ahead of him, keeping one hand on her waist as she wove through the crowd. A harried-looking waitress met them as they came around the corner into the bar. “There might be a table or two in the back,” she called over the dull roar of conversation and the tuning of instruments in the opposite corner.

Evie turned to beam up at him, and other than her angry rants, it might have been the most animated he had ever seen her. Her skin was flushed with pleasure, eyes bright.

“They have my favorite beer from Scotland!!” she called excitedly over her shoulder as they passed the chalkboard advertising the pub’s alcoholic offerings.

The back room, down a narrow hallway and to the left, was nearly empty. Two men stood near a rear entrance, lowball glasses filled with warm amber liquid in hand as they smoked thick cigars, but otherwise, Alec and Evie were alone.

Evie chose a small table standing on spindly legs against the long outer wall, plopping down in one of the mismatched chairs. A pool of light flickered across the center of the scarred wood, the flame atop a drooping candle dancing within its old, brown hurricane. Alec drew his gaze across the bookshelves lined with old, dusty tomes along the shorter back wall, board games shoved into the bottom cupboards, and a set of ragged bagpipes tacked to a post.

“I am so excited,” she stage-whispered as she tapped her fingers on the table. She hummed with energy, nearly vibrating in her seat as she swung her head from one side to the other, candlelight dancing in her eyes. “I haven’t had a real beer—a good beer—in ages. And it smells like a pub! Did you ever go to that one in Aggieville? Not the obnoxious shamrocky place, but the one across the street? It was close but didn’t smell right. And the beer selection was piss. What?” she asked when she noticed him smirking at her.

“Nothing. It’s just… I never thought that it would take beer to get you this excited. If I had known, I would be done things much differently.”

“Oh, what? Differently than fish on the table and whisky straight from the barrel? Didn’t you know that’s the fastest way to most girls’ hearts?” She fluttered her lashes at him. “I simply dare to be different.” She executed an overdramatic hair-toss over one shoulder.

If she only knew.

She leaned back a little to look around as another couple, much older than they, took one of the remaining two tables. “I almost feel like I am home here.”

“Home being…?”

“Scotland. Definitely Scotland. Although, I did like living here. I did tell you I lived here, right? Well, not here,” she stabbed the table with both index fingers and laughed nervously. “But here,” she waved her hands around her head in circles. “My dad was at Benning for a few years. I finished high school there and went to college in Atlanta. I loved that, but wow—nothing compared to St Andrews.” She grinned. “I loved—love—St Andrews. I went sight unseen. I knew nothing about modern day Scotland. Or the UK for that matter. The last British history class I took before I applied was Britain from 1790 until the present, but I don’t think we even made it through the First World War It was all Disraeli and William Gladstone and Tories and Whigs and Labor movements. My professor had that ‘Oxford’ accent. You know, the sort of puffy, self-important one?

“Anyway, I think I might have had half a class that talked about the Jacobite Rebellion in 1745 my sophomore year, and that was only sort of in passing, but wow. I was in love. It was like the American Revolution but better, you know? The end of my junior year, there was a visiting professor who was there to help set up some study abroad program. I was heartbroken when he said that the program wouldn’t be ready in time for me to do an exchange. I even asked about taking off a year just so I could do it.” She grinned to herself and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I think he thought I was joking when I told him I would do that. But he suggested looking into a post-graduate program, instead. I’m pretty sure it was the next week that my mom started sending me Kansas State brochures. I made up my mind then and there—I was going to Scotland, mother be damned.” She chuckled a little. “Have you ever been? To the UK, that is?”

“Yes. A long time ago.” It wasn’t a time he particularly liked to dwell on.

“Were you in Scotland?”

He didn’t want to answer, but, yet, he didn’t want her to shut down. She was talking about a place she loved. And she hadn’t mentioned Calum’s name once. She hadn’t shut down, losing herself in the thing she had had with another man. But he couldn’t answer her without digging up his own ghosts.

He cleared his throat and stared down at his hands where they rested on the table. “My wife was from Scotland.”

“Oh, really? Where was she from?” she asked excitedly.

And then his words dawned on her and she deflated a little as she remembered that he had said he was a widower.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up—”

“It’s all right. Her family was from Glen Lyon. Near Loch Tay.”

“Oh.”

She fidgeted with her fingers, shifting her legs under her chair only to shift them back, and then relief flooded her features, her shoulders relaxing and her frown disappearing. The waitress who had directed them to the back room came to stand to the side of the table.

“What can I get for ya’ll?” she asked in a heavy southern accent. She popped her black-trousered hip to the side, resting the empty round tray on the apron tied around her mid-section.

“I’ll take a bottle of the Scotch ale, please. And fish and chips?” Evie asked, as if she wanted to be sure they were on the menu.

The girl nodded and turned her attention to Alec.

“I’ll have the same. And—” he pulled his wallet out, flipped it open, and extracted a card. “Just start a tab.”

The girl took it without a word, slapped it down on the tray, and disappeared back around the corner into the louder dining room.

Evie shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around the room. She refused to look at him. She clearly wanted to press him for more details, wanted a glimpse into the life he had guiltily left in the past. But he desperately wanted to keep it there. He had little time for his mistakes, and instead needed to look toward the future, instead.

After the pause because too much to bear, she asked, “Is Riley your first duty station?”

“Uh, no.”

“But it is the worst?” She leaned forward conspiratorially, her grin mischievous.

“That’s the truth.” He relaxed, leaning back into the ladder-backed chair. “No, it’s my second. I started up at JBLM.”

She looked at him blankly.

“In Washington.”

She blinked. “Oh, Fort Lewis! We were there when I was a kid! But it was just Lewis then. Well, Fort Lewis and McChord Air Force base. They were two separate entities.” She pushed her hands together and then drew them quickly apart to demonstrate. “Did you like it any better?”

“Yes, I quite liked my time there.”

“Quite?” She lifted a mocking eyebrow. “I don’t remember a whole lot about it. I was pretty young, but I know it drove my mom crazy. She hated how dark it was all the time. And she has always been a big one for seasons. I think she felt very cheated out of a few while we were there.”

“It was dark and cold a lot of the year.”

“And wet.”

“Very.”

She canted her head to the side. “Are we really talking about the weather?”

“I think we are.”

She giggled at his answer, a small tinkling that bubbled up between her even white teeth and bare lips. Had she ever laughed like that with him before? He didn’t think so, but definitely wanted more.

The laughter fizzled out and she fiddled with one of the paper coasters left on the table. Green and red lettering wrapped around the circle, advertising a domestic beer’s holiday edition. She turned it over, sliding her fingers around the curved edges, flipping it over.

“I thought about going into meteorology briefly.”

Nothing would have surprised him more. “Really?”

“Yup. How weird is that? I mean, it was maybe for half of a semester. I had to take an earth and atmospheric science class for my general education requirement, and I kind of got sucked in. Meteorology sounded cool, so did volcanology.”

“Volcanology?”

“Yeah, the study of volcanoes,” she said as if she had had to explain it a few times before.

“So, why didn’t you make the switch?”

“Fear of volcanoes?” She chuckled. “History has always been my first love… and I can’t do conversion math to save my life.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. Her smile stiffened but she held it as the waitress arrived with their beer.

Evie dropped the coaster, and a sweating glass was slid in front of each of them. Evie eyed the near-black brew, her hungry gaze all but willing the server away.

“Fish and chips might take a bit,” the girl said in an almost apologetic tone. “Kitchen’s real backed up. Can I get you anything else?”

Alec looked to Evie who didn’t seem to have even heard the question, and then shook his head.

As soon as she was gone, Evie had the glass in hand and took a long sip.

“It’s even better than I remember.” She sighed. “Have you ever experienced that? Remembering something being so amazing, and then, in reality, it’s even better?”

He stared across the table, taking in the curve of her cheek and set of her chin. The spark of mischief in her eye. Lifting his own glass, he took a long sip of smooth, nutty malt and considered her question.

Yes. Yes, he had.