Echoes of Scotland Street

  When I stumbled to a stop at Rae’s abrupt halt in front of an attractive blonde I recognized from her author photo, I knew I was right.

  I froze as I took her in. She leaned into a tall, rugged older guy. His dark hair had some gray in it at the sides, but this only made him more distinguished looking than he already was. His amazing pale blue eyes seared right through me.

  Rae and I had interrupted the couple’s conversation.

  Floor, swallow me. Please.

  “Joss, Braden,” Rae said in an almost militant manner. “This is Shannon.” She gently nudged me forward and I gave Joss a strained smile. “She’s my new flatmate and our receptionist at INKarnate. She’s a fan of your books, Joss.”

  Joss gave me a kind smile, as though she sensed my discomfort. Admittedly it wouldn’t have taken a writing genius to sense that. I shook her hand, surprised by how nervous I was to meet her. That was probably why the next words that spilled out of my mouth were unfiltered and revealed way more than I’d meant to. “I just want you to know that your books are important. They’ve helped me through the worst months of my life this last year.”

  I tensed as soon as the words were out of my mouth, and my three companions noticed. Rae noticed. She put her arm around me and pulled me close so she could press a kiss to my hair. She gently released me and walked away, leaving me staring after her.

  Sometimes that woman could surprise the heck out of me.

  When I turned my attention back to Joss and Braden, I discovered they both now wore identical expressions of concern.

  “That really means a lot,” Joss said, and I noted that her American accent was interrupted quite a bit by Scottish inflections. According to Rae, Joss had lived in Scotland for seventeen years. “I hear you’ve moved from Glasgow. How are you settling in?”

  “Good, thank you. I’ve always loved this city.”

  She smiled in response, but I could see that she was still assessing me. “Well . . . you know we’re a tight group here . . . if you ever need anything . . .” She shrugged.

  I was stunned.

  Her offer of support, her acceptance of me as part of their group of friends when she’d only just met me blew me away. I thought about the fact that my own family hadn’t contacted me at all since my sister’s blunt text weeks ago, and I had to look away because this stranger’s kindness had moved me to tears.

  I blinked them back hurriedly, staring at the girl with the head of blond curls again. Now she was herding a group of younger children toward the buffet table. Looking more closely, I could see she had Joss’s tip-tilted eyes and smile. “Is she yours?”

  “How can you tell?” Joss said, following my gaze, a smirk playing on her full mouth. “That’s our daughter, Beth, and the little dark-haired boy holding her hand is our son, Luke.”

  I glanced around the room, taking everyone in. “Big family,” I muttered.

  “We’re kind of a tribe, really,” Joss joked.

  I smiled and took a step back. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your evening. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too, Shannon.”

  “And remember,” Braden spoke up, and I was instantly transfixed by him. The air around him crackled like it did with Cole. I hadn’t noticed because I’d been so focused on Joss, but her husband was really kind of sexy. “If you ever need anything just ask.”

  Wow. That was nice. “That’s very kind.” I nodded my thanks and walked away, thinking Cole was one lucky son of a bitch to have people like them in his life.

  * * *

  An hour later I’d met almost everyone and also caught up with the twins and Karen. I hadn’t spent much time with them since meeting them that first night weeks ago, but from their friendly demeanor it was clear they didn’t know about my war with Cole.

  I was trying desperately to remember everyone’s name, but the only ones that stuck were the names of Cole’s extended family—or tribe, as Joss called it. First Tony introduced me to a tall, slender woman who was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever met in real life. With her gorgeous light, clear green eyes, I wasn’t surprised to learn she was Cole’s sister, Jo. Her husband, Cameron, reminded me of Cole—not in looks but in manner. I could tell from the way he dressed and held himself that he’d been a huge influence in Cole’s life. They had their daughter, Belle, with them and the minute she saw me she threw herself at me and asked if she could play with my hair. Of course she was even more adorable in real life, so I let her do just that as Jo introduced me to her boss and uncle, Mick, his wife, Dee, and Mick’s daughter, Olivia.

  Olivia was an attractive brunette, American, and bubbling with a humor and personality that dazzled me almost as much as her smile and her husband, Nate, did. Although Tony had warned me about Nate, there was really no way to prepare myself for the reality. He was just that good-looking. Everything about his looks, his smile, his confidence, screamed player . . . until he looked at his wife and their two daughters. Anyone could see they meant the world to him.

  Finally I met Braden’s sister, Ellie, and her husband, Adam, and their two boys. Ellie was one of those women you couldn’t help liking immediately. She was down-to-earth, warm, and endearing and she just knew how to put a person at ease. After meeting her mum and stepfather, Elodie and Clark, I knew instantly where she’d inherited the qualities.

  It was overwhelming meeting the tribe.

  Even more overwhelming was that uneasiness I’d been feeling every now and then, an uneasiness that churned in my gut and came at me in waves as I met Cole’s friends and family.

  Trying to shrug it off, I wandered over to the bar to order a glass of wine, hoping to sneak in a few minutes to myself.

  I knew the instant he neared me.

  I felt him.

  From my peripheral I saw Cole slide in next to me. I turned to watch as he leaned against the bar. Tonight he looked even more amazing than usual, in a crisp white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a fitted black waistcoat, and black suit trousers. A quirky silver pocket watch was attached to the waistcoat. He was wearing a leather aviator watch along with the black leather bracelets he always wore. For some reason that watch and those bracelets were incredibly sexy on him. Perhaps it was because it drew attention to his wrists, which then drew attention to his strong forearms, which then drew attention to his tattoos, which then . . .

  You get the picture.

  My eyes drifted up to his face, and heat instantly suffused me. His greedy gaze was roaming over me in a way that was blatantly sexual and at the same time consternated. Our eyes met.

  “So, all I’ve heard tonight from my family is how bloody lovely Shannon MacLeod is.”

  I flushed inwardly with pleasure, glad they’d liked me, but I didn’t respond to him. I didn’t really know what he wanted me to say.

  No response was the wrong way to go, because it clearly exasperated him. “Want to tell me why I’ve not met this version of you? No . . . wait.” He leaned in close, those green eyes hot with anger. “I have met her, but she was fifteen.”

  I looked away quickly, willing the bartender to appear.

  Seconds later I heard a frustrated growl and then I felt Cole melt away from my side. I let go a huge sigh of relief only to choke on the remnants of it at the sight of Hannah hurrying toward me. She frowned as she came to a stop in front of me.

  “What was that?” she asked, gesturing in the direction of where I assumed Cole had headed.

  “Nothing.”

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Cole is my best friend and he tells me everything, so I know he came on to you and you shot him down. I also know you shot him down in a probably not very nice way because of his reaction. Cole spends most of his life horizontal he’s so bloody laid-back, so it takes a lot to make him this frustrated and fucked off. It’s not like him.”

  “I only said the truth.” I defended myself because I didn’t want these seemingly good people not to like me. “I told him I knew he was a player
and that I wasn’t interested.”

  Hannah looked taken aback. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “Cole? A player?” She guffawed. “Are you high?”

  I grew very still, not liking her reaction at all. She smiled, but there was disbelief in the look. “Shannon, I’ve known Cole Walker since he was a shy fourteen-year-old that could barely say two words to me. Cole is definitely not a player.”

  I struggled to deal with what she was saying, and I doubted I kept that struggle out of my expression. “He’s such a bad boy,” I squeaked out.

  She chuckled. “No way.”

  “But . . . but he’s so cocky and flirty . . .” I trailed off, that uneasiness in my gut starting to make sense all of a sudden.

  “Well, he’s spent his formative years surrounded by men incapable of restraint when it comes to flirting outrageously with their wives. Each one of them”—she gestured around the room—“is a cocky, arrogant, overconfident bugger.” She grinned. “But you won’t find men who are more loyal or loving to their wives.” Her expression turned serious. “We’ve all been through a lot. As has Cole. Like us, he knows what’s important. And he’s been deeply influenced by the men in his life. Cole’s never been a fan of casual. With the exception of Jessica and probably some alcohol-induced one-night stands, Cole has only ever been in relationships. He’s looking for the right woman to settle down with. He’s a romantic.” Her eyes glimmered with deep affection. “He’s also one of the best men I’ve ever, ever, ever met. I love him dearly, and . . . I only want the very best for him,” she concluded pointedly.

  I felt awful as soon as she finished speaking. Absolutely, truly awful.

  “I don’t respect players like you. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. There’s nothing behind that charming smile but empty promises. You have nothing real to offer me or anyone who finds herself a victim of your flirtation. The difference between them and me, however, is that I’m smart enough to see you for what you really are . . . Nothing.”

  “Forget the hilariously random analogy that didn’t even make a lot of sense but totally did anyway. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Cole. Bad boy.”

  “Right.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ll let you figure this one out on your own, you bloody numb nut.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight at the memories. “I am such a bitch.”

  Feeling Hannah’s hand resting on my arm, I opened my eyes to find her staring at me with a surprising amount of kindness. “Somehow I don’t believe that’s true.”

  And on that enigmatic comment she walked away, leaving me to drown my guilt in a large glass of red wine.

  CHAPTER 8

  O nce when I was ten I had helped my granddad throw out some old things because Gran was doing her yearly spring clean and somehow Granddad’s belongings always ended up taking the brunt of the clear-out.

  My granddad had books everywhere. I remembered grabbing books that were piled randomly in the corner of the sitting room and asking him if they were to be thrown out. His response was an immediate and very adamant no. I made a face and asked him why since no one else had probably even heard of the books with their very boring covers. Granddad had tutted at me and told me that inside the books were the best stories he’d ever read, and that I shouldn’t judge them solely on their bad marketing.

  I hadn’t really understood at the time, but I guessed he was quite literally telling me not to judge a book by its cover.

  An old cliché.

  A cliché it might have been but one lesson I should never have forgotten. After Hannah’s revelations about Cole’s true character, I left his party quickly. I barely slept that night¸ consumed with guilt for judging Cole on what happened to be bad marketing from my perspective. Amid the guilt was regret and something bigger. Something a little like panic.

  * * *

  The next day at work I didn’t know how I was supposed to act around Cole. It seemed it was back to business as usual for him, because he didn’t come out to greet me when I pushed open the front door of the studio.

  Simon did, looking a little worse for wear as he took his coffee from me. “Thank fuck,” he muttered. “I started in on the whisky after five beers last night.” He took a sip of his coffee and frowned at me. “Where did you run off to?”

  I shrugged, already uncomfortable. “Home. Headache.”

  He gave me an incredulous look.

  With a heavy sigh I told him the truth. “I think I may have made some not very nice assumptions about Cole.”

  “Has this got anything to do with the cold war between you two?”

  I nodded. “And now I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Why not start with just being nice to him?”

  “Nice?”

  “Nice.”

  Not sure how to go about making that change after being such a bitch, I looked down at my coffee to avoid Simon’s gaze. I felt ashamed of my behavior these last few weeks. How the heck did I go about trying to make amends?

  I contemplated my coffee. “What does Cole drink?”

  Simon chuckled. “A cortado. One sugar.”

  “The coffee shop is right around the corner,” I mused.

  “It is.” Simon grinned. “I’ll man the desk for you.”

  I returned his smile with a grateful one of my own before shrugging into my jacket and hurrying out to the coffee shop. Not even five minutes later I was back in the studio. As soon as I stepped inside with Cole’s cortado, Simon winked at me and left the reception for his workroom.

  I looked down at Cole’s coffee and felt the butterflies in my belly go wild. Bolstering myself against nerves, I threw my shoulders back and headed toward the workrooms.

  Stopping in the doorway of Cole’s room, I almost completely lost my nerve. He was sitting with one ankle resting on the opposite knee, his sketch pad on his lap, and his head bent, as he concentrated on what he was drawing.

  He was really handsome. I knew this. I’d known this from the moment I met him, but that feeling was back—that feeling I’d had when I was fifteen years old and I was staring up into his green eyes in absolute delight. That feeling you get when you realize something special about another person and he goes from being attractive to downright kick-you-in-the-gut good-looking.

  I’d learned a lot about Cole in the last few days.

  He was so damn kick-you-in-the-gut good-looking now.

  Catching sight of me out of the corner of his eye, Cole lifted his head in surprise.

  In response to his silent question I took two steps forward and thrust the coffee at him.

  He raised an eyebrow. The gesture was too sexy for words.

  My hand trembled.

  Cole watched the coffee cup shake with the tremor and reached out to take it from me.

  Once it was in his hand I backed out of the room and practically fled down the hall.

  Standing at my desk, taking in a ragged breath, I inwardly berated myself for being quite possibly the most uncool person to have ever worked in a tattoo studio.

  * * *

  Not even ten minutes later I had to find the nerve to face Cole again because he had a customer. I informed him of this with a warmer politeness than usual, and I could feel his curious gaze on my back as he followed me out into the reception area.

  I buried my head in my work, sighing a huge sigh of relief when he returned to his workroom.

  An hour later, my mind still mostly on the recent turn of events, I was more than taken aback when the front doorbell rang, signaling a customer, only for me to look up and be faced with Cole’s recent ex, Jessica.

  She strode to the desk with her usual exuberance. “Hi, Shannon. Is Cole free?”

  Confused, I shook my head. “He’s got a client.”

  “I’ll just wait.”

  “Um . . . okay . . .”

  She smiled and planted her bottom on one of the leather co
uches and made the impression of someone who was settling in.

  Cole had broken up with her . . . right?

  For the next forty minutes I attempted to put my head into my work, but every now and then my eyes would lift to check on whether the young blonde was still there.

  She was.

  As I studied her I decided she was definitely all wrong for Cole. Too young, too bubbly and in your face, and much, much too blond.

  Not that I was biased or anything.

  Hearing Cole’s voice approaching, I waited curiously to see how this scene would unfold. Appearing in the main studio, Cole was too busy discussing aftercare with his customer to notice Jessica in the waiting area. He brought the guy over to me and while I smiled, I subtly nodded in Jessica’s direction.

  Cole flicked his eyes over and was about to return them to me before he did a double take. His eyebrows immediately drew together.

  Handing Cole’s customer his card back, I bade him good-bye, as did Cole, and waited for the gentleman to leave.

  “She’s been waiting for you for the past forty minutes,” I told him under my breath.

  Cole appeared frustrated. Exhaling, he wandered over to her, not even halfway to reaching her before she jumped up off the couch and dashed toward him. She threw her arms around him like a little girl and Cole staggered back, immediately gripping her elbows to gently push her away. “Jessica, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “We need to talk,” she said, batting her pretty eyes at him.

  She was good. I’d give her that.

  Apparently not good enough. “Jessica, we said all we had to say.”

  “But I miss you.” She went into instant begging mode that raised my hackles. “I can do better, I promise.”

  It took everything within me not to scream, “Have some self-respect!”

  I was beginning to think that maybe, perhaps, more than possibly, Jessica was indeed every bit the cling-on Cole had accused her of being.

  “Jessica, you don’t have to do anything.” Cole continued being nice, which I thought was decent of him considering most guys would have bounced her arse out of the door by now. “We’re just not right for each other, sweetheart.”