because I didn’t have Lucas to press a pill into my palm and insist I take it so I wouldn’t embarrass myself—and him.
When the wheels finally touch down, I gratefully beam over at Theo as I release his hand. He makes a show of wincing dramatically and unclenching his fingers a couple of times, and I chuckle and resist the urge to clap for the pilot and cheer just because I’m still alive.
Theo grins, and when he finds a gap in the traffic of eager beavers wanting to get off the plane first, he stands and reaches up to grab our bags from the overhead compartment. As he does so, his white Top Gun homage T-shirt—emblazoned with a pair of aviator shades and the slogan Talk to me, Goose—rides up a little, and I blink as I catch a quick glimpse of his tanned, toned stomach and a small smattering of hair.
Holy hell.
Gulping, I swallow the wave of desire that pulses through my body. I knew he was good-looking, but no one ever knows what’s hiding behind a well-cut suit or loose T-shirt. I didn’t exactly expect him to have a dad bod, but I wasn’t expecting flat, sculpted yumminess either. That one inch of exposed stomach has set the tone for the whole weekend. It’s now my life’s mission to get that shirt off him and snap a picture, so I can show an envious Aubrey because she will lose her mind.
“That bag is almost as big as you.”
While I’m off in fantasy Theo-land and not paying attention, my handbag accidentally hits me in the face as he dangles it in front of me.
I giggle awkwardly and slip it onto my shoulder, standing and half-kneeling on my seat as I force my dirty mind away from thoughts of what the rest of his chest might look like. No doubt I’ll see over the weekend. It’s the height of summer after all, and he did promise me sunbathing. I shouldn’t be this excited about the prospect.
We fall in line with the other passengers, and by the time I get to the exit door, I’m beaming so wide, my cheeks ache. I practically skip down the gangplank, excited to start the weekend. Weddings aren’t exactly my thing, but it’s only one afternoon, and like he said, the rest of the time is my own. I’ve never been to Scotland before, and I Googled Loch Lomond on Monday night with Aubrey, so I know the place we’re headed to is stunning. This break is a long time coming.
Following the signs, we head through customs and up to the car rental desk. While Theo leans on the desk and talks to the assistant about his pre-booking, I take a moment to study him. Now that I know there’s a real body under there, I can’t help but want to see more. He’s in his Top Gun T-shirt, a pair of cream shorts, and well-cared-for white trainers on his feet. His shoulders are broad, his legs long and toned, and his forearms have that muscled, vein thing going on—I never knew I liked those before today.
He’s decidedly more casual than in the suit I first met him in. He looks better like this though, more comfortable, more himself. There’s a faded three-inch scar on the shin of his right leg. I ponder it, wondering how he got it. When he turns, I’m still mid-examination of him, so my eyes zero in on his crotch, and I’m too slow to drag my stare away. Face burning with embarrassment, I startle, wrenching my gaze away, hoping I’ve not been caught on crotch watch.
“Right, all sorted. Come on then. Let’s go.” He nods over my shoulder, looking pleased with himself as he pockets the rental keys and hands me the paperwork, which I fold and shove into my bag. He’s still wheeling my suitcase for me as we follow the assistant. It’s adorable.
As we walk through the airport and out the door, our arms accidentally brush against each other, and I feel my stomach flutter as I resolutely stare at my feet, knowing my face is likely beet red.
“How’d you get that scar on your leg?” I ask, needing to think about something else.
“Car accident about a year or so ago. Broke my leg, and the bone came right through. I had to have it pinned and—”
I squeal and throw my hands up to cover my ears as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to picture