I whirl around and glare at him. “Look at me what?”
“You,” he says, then nods toward the washroom. “Him. You are such the smitten kitten.”
“Smitten kitten?” I repeat, sitting back down. “You’ve been hanging around Nicola too long.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so hung up on someone before,” he adds.
“What?” I exclaim. “That’s ridiculous! I’m always hung up on someone.”
He presses his lips together, shaking his head. “Nope. Not like this. I know your looks. You’re practically drooling.”
“Bullshit,” I say, leaning across the table and looking him in the eye. “You may think you know me, Bram, but you don’t. So I think your cousin is hot, so what?”
“Just hot?” he says. He swirls his scotch around his glass and grins down at it. “All right. Too bad the smitten kitten is climbing up the wrong tree.”
My face twists in confusion. “Huh? Why are we still talking about cats?”
He shrugs. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. As if you couldn’t figure it out already. He’s not so easily…swayed.”
I roll my eyes. “Believe me, I’ve figured that out.”
And yet when Lachlan returns and asks if I want something to drink, my heart starts dancing to a hopeful beat.
“Hmmm,” Bram muses, watching him go.
“Let me guess, he never normally buys girls drinks,” I say.
“Not that I’ve seen,” he says. “Then again, he doesn’t drink much anyway.”
I want to press Bram more about that, find out why. With his bruiser personality, Lachlan doesn’t seem like the straight-edge type. But if it’s something personal, I know Bram will shut me down.
Soon Lachlan comes back with another glass of water for himself and a Bellini for me. He slides it along the table to me and says, “This is thanks. For the article.”
Oh. So he wasn’t buying me a drink because he finally realized I was hot stuff. Damn.
“Did James make you pay for that?” Bram asks.
He nods. “I guess the courtesy doesn’t extend to family. I don’t think the guy likes me much.”
“James doesn’t like any guy who’s bigger than him,” Bram points out.
“Except for Linden,” I say. “But that’s a twisted bromance right there.” I give Lachlan a grateful smile and move down so he can sit next to me again. “Well, thank you for the drink. You’re the one who was gracious with his time and my fumbling questions.”
He nods, pulling down the brim of his cap slightly, fidgeting. After a few beats he says, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you what kind of exercise you do.”
I tilt my head at him and he quickly continues, “You played really well on that field. I mean, you were tireless.”
“Oh,” I say, and exchange a look with Bram. “Thanks. I usually just go to the gym in the mornings but I take fencing lessons once a week.”
“Fencing?” he asks. “That’s….rare.”
I smile sweetly at him. “I’m a rare thing.” I don’t look at Bram, but I know he’s not looking too impressed at my flirting skills. I go on. “It helps me stay disciplined but lets me get my anger out at the same time.”
“You struggle with discipline?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.
“Isn’t that obvious?” I say, and find myself shifting closer to him.
He considers that, his eyes softening as he looks at me.
“Plus,” I add, “it gives me a booty. No flat ass for me.”
“Definitely not,” he says, and I can’t help but beam, my nerves tingling all over.
Bram clears his throat. Loudly. I narrow my eyes at him, annoyed that he’s interrupting whatever kind of banter Lachlan and I have going. Doesn’t he realize what a big deal this is? Bantering with Lachlan is like unlocking another level in the game. Plus he just complimented my damn ass.
But before we can get back to it, Linden comes into the Lion, strutting toward us with a big smile on his face.
“Hello, hello,” he says to us and plops down beside Bram.
“Oh great, the Scottish trifecta,” I say underneath my breath.
“You’ll be changing your tune in a minute, missy,” Linden says. “Because I’ve got some pretty fucking awesome news.”
The three of us stare at him expectantly. He licks his lips and smiles triumphantly. “One of my clients is a sponsor for the Outside Lands Festival. I guess he was feeling generous today because he gave me five VIP passes to the festival next weekend.”
“Nice perk,” Bram comments.
“Obviously I’m giving them to you,” Linden says.
“But there are six of us, including Steph and Nicola,” I say. “So we can’t all go.”
“It’s all right,” Lachlan says. “Count me out for the festival.”
I’m hit with disappointment. “Don’t be silly,” I tell him. “You’re the guest here, you’re definitely going. It’s a San Francisco institution. I’ll not go. I’m pretty sure Linden wasn’t inviting me anyway.”
And when I look at Linden and see the sheepish glint in his eyes, I know it’s the truth. When it comes to him making plans, sometimes he conveniently leaves me out of them until Steph gets angry. But I can’t say I don’t do the same either.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” Bram says. “I’ll buy my own damn VIP passes. There. Problem solved.”
Lachlan shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, mate. I’m not a fan of music festivals anyway.”
“You don’t like music?” I ask.
He frowns. “I love music. People, not so much.”
I can’t help but smile. “Maybe we are more alike than I thought.”
I swear there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Ah, but the people who attend Outside Lands are scantily clad girls who drink shitloads of wine and dance in their bikinis to music that isn’t even playing yet,” Linden says. “Easy place for you to pick up a few girls, wouldn’t you say?”
The fuck? I glare at Linden. I just know he’s suggesting this shit to piss me off.
“Nah,” Lachlan quickly dismisses him. “Not my crowd, not my scene.”
“Elton John is headlining on Sunday,” Bram adds, and I can tell he’s kicking Linden under the table because Linden is giving him the “what did I do?” look. “You can’t pass up a legend.”
Lachlan grunts in response. I think it means “we’ll see.”
The rest of the evening turns to talk about music festivals and bands. So many Scottish accents at once. Lachlan doesn’t provide much conversation and neither do I, we just sit there listening to Linden and Bram get in arguments over which band is better, Massive Attack or Portishead. In a way, it’s kind of nice. Their incessant yammering provides background noise and ensures that both of them are wrapped in their weird brotherly world. Which means Lachlan and I are in a world of our own.
Not that we even talk to each other, not that he’s even aware of being in this private world with me. It’s just nice to sit beside him and enjoy his presence, feel his heat, smell the warm amber of his skin. Being in the shadow of this beast is strangely comforting. He both kickstarts my heart and calms my nerves, and I can’t help but think that Bram is right. I do have it bad for him. Really, really bad. I am a smitten fucking kitten. And I’m starting to think it’s more than just in a physical way. I don’t know the guy at all—and it seems that nobody does—but I feel drawn to him, like our blood is made from magnets, pulling us together.
The sad part is, though, that all these crazy feelings are in my head. And that’s probably where they’re going to stay.
When the night gets on and Lachlan leaves to go home, I feel the loss. I don’t think I’ve ever felt sad over a guy, but all this Scot has to do is leave my vicinity and I miss him. Maybe I just miss staring at those lips, wondering what it would be like to take them between my teeth, what they would feel like against my mouth. Maybe I just miss taking in his tattoos, inventing stories for them in my head—the lion on his forearm is for his pride, the cross on his bicep is for the time he worked as a Trappist monk brewing strong beer in the Alps (I don’t know, it might be true). Maybe I miss fighting the urge to run my fingers over his beard, his nose, touching every faint scar on his face.