I smile and blow a kiss. He pretends to catch it and press it to his lips. The gesture is stupidly intimate and, for a heartbeat, I want my mouth on his for real. But I can’t.
What must we look like? A mother and son out for dinner, acting inappropriately. My stomach churns at the thought.
The bottle of wine is empty. I’ve done most of the damage. Lance has stuck to one glass because he’s driving. We’ve talked, laughed, and somehow lost hours.
Conversation with him is easy. He’s non-judgmental and actually listens. A trait I’ve never experienced in a man. Knobscratcher never listened to me about anything.
Grudgingly I say, “I better get home. The animals need to be fed. I’ve had a wonderful evening, Lance. It’s been the most fun I’ve had since I arrived in Aviemore.”
He signals to the waiter for the bill, and I reach for my bag.
“No, Katie, this is my treat. I invited you.” I shake my head and slide open the zip. “I’m serious, Katie, this is on me. You can get the next one.”
“The next one?” My eyebrow lifts, and he flashes me that stunning smile.
“Hell yeah. And it’s going be a five-star extravaganza. I hope you have a high limit credit card,” he says with a wink.
He pays, and we stroll out to his car, close but not touching. I’m desperate to hold his hand, but know how it would look. This isn’t a date; I repeat it like a mantra.
He opens my door like a gentleman, then slides in his own side.
The air hums as we drive back to my house, the silence loaded with something I can’t touch.
Being in such close proximity to him is highly arousing—my body is begging me to make a move. I need sex. It’s been a long time.
And I want this man to scratch my itch.
Visions of him on me and in me flicker behind my eyelids. I bet he’s amazing in bed. All strong and domineering, just the way I like it.
We pull up at the little cottage.
“Do you want any help with the animals?” His eyes lift to mine. “It’s dark out, and I’d rather help you then see you inside safe before I leave.”
I go to protest, but stop. Lance is honorable. I don’t want to offend him. Plus, it’s more time together. A lame excuse to not let him go home.
“Pigs first?” I say.
We collect their feed from the barn and head over to the sty. It’s dark, so we use our phones as torches. I clamber over the low stone wall into the pen. The pigs are settled, but start snorting at the intrusion.
Lance passes me the bucket of feed, and I turn to fill the trough. The feeder is closer than I realize. My foot catches it, and I trip in spectacular fashion. Feed flies into the air, and the pig I smack into lets out an almighty shriek.
“Shit, Katie. Are you okay?” Lance’s alarmed voice cuts through the chaos.
I land headfirst in the muck.
I try to push myself up only to be charged again by an irate pig on the rampage for food. The light sweeps around the stall as Lance tries to locate my remains. My phone’s nowhere to be seen. No doubt buried in the shit.
“Katie,” he shouts, “tell me you’re fucking okay. The pig hasn’t eaten you, has it?”
I snort and sit up. The gate creaks open, and his footsteps squelch toward me. Strong hands slide under my arms, lifting me back to my feet. Twice now I’ve gone arse over tit in front of him. My dignity is fucked.
Without a word, Lance finishes the outside chores while I sit on the bench at the barn. My hands sting from fresh scratches, and I stink of pig shit.
“You must think I’m a right idiot,” I shout to him as he works.
“Well, Katie, you certainly make my days more interesting. Never rescued a woman from a pigsty before. Or a burn. First time for everything, I suppose.”
I watch as he moves, lifting buckets of water like they weigh nothing. For a big man, he’s so quiet.