A Highlander in a Pickup - Laura Trentham Page 0,71
If you need me to make calls or run down deposits and whatnot, I’m available.”
“Okay.” Her back was to him as she tended the bacon.
Iain cocked his head. “Did you say, ‘okay’?”
“Aye, Highlander. I said, ‘okay.’” The Scottish burr she adopted was still inflected with her Southern accent. It was equal parts terrible and adorable.
“One sandwich or two?” she asked him.
“Is three an option?”
“Good thinking. You’ll need the energy for tonight.”
A zing of awareness had him sitting up straighter. “What’s happening tonight?”
“Our second dance lesson, of course.” Her voice was brisk and teacher-like.
Of course. He slumped on his seat, fighting off disappointment he had no right to. After all, she had been the one to label their kiss as a mistake. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the blistering kiss, but had worried he was being too aggressive. Basically, he’d attempted to act like a gentleman, and it had backfired.
She slid a stack of sandwiches in front of him. His first bite was a revelation. He made a noise of appreciation and took another bite and another until all three sandwiches were gone in the time it had taken Anna to eat one.
Her smile was bemused but pleased. “I’m going to assume that means you enjoyed them.”
“Aye.” He patted his belly, then folded his arms on the counter to wait for her to finish.
“What do you think of our goddaughter?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Our goddaughter?”
“Izzy asked me to be godmother.” She pulled her phone out. “She also sent pictures. Do you want to see?”
“I do. Alasdair didn’t think to send me any.”
She huffed. “Boys. Here.”
The baby was exactly how his da had described, except for less squally looking. He scrolled through the pictures. Alasdair looked happier and more content than Iain had ever seen him. He stared into the babe’s clear gray eyes. His heart beat through the warm gooeyness filling his chest. A sense of protectiveness washed over him. “She’s a bonny little thing, isn’t she?”
Anna wiped her fingers on a napkin and came to look over his shoulder. “She really is. Although, I don’t have much experience with babies. I don’t take them on until they can dance, and I prefer them out of diapers.”
“Do you want kids?” As soon as the question exited his mouth, he wanted to stuff it back in.
“I haven’t thought about it much, to be honest. It’s a mind warp to realize I’m teaching kids of girls I graduated high school with.” She shrugged. “Back then, I was focused on making it in New York, not making babies. You can see how well that worked out for me. What about you? Thought about kids someday?”
“I’ve never settled down long enough to consider it. Plus, I don’t know that I want to bring a child into this world.” He closed his eyes to attempt to blank out his memories.
“That’s depressingly pessimistic.” Her tone shifted into an unusually serious gear, and he could sense her hesitation. “Is that because of your time in the service?”
“Aye. It was the worst time of my life.” He chuffed a laugh devoid of humor. “Also the best.”
“So far,” Anna added with raised eyebrows. “Who’s to say what’s just around the corner?”
“That’s shockingly optimistic.”
She merely gave him a slight smile before turning serious once more. “What made it the best time?”
“I joined up expecting the army would be my career. I was good at it, and it was like a huge, dysfunctional family.”
“Ah-ha. You weren’t lonely anymore.”
It was such a simple statement but resonated like a call in a deep fissure. “I suppose I wasn’t.”
“What made it the worst?” When he didn’t answer right away, she asked softly, “Did you have to … you know?”
“I mostly only fired to let the enemy know we were there. Our mission was peacekeeping, after all. My company supported humanitarian work across Afghanistan. Aid organizations needed protection as they traveled distributing books or water pumps or supplies. I was a sniper who was tasked to keep them safe.”
“Was it dangerous?”
He shook his head to clear the images scrolling in his head as vivid as the pictures of the baby earlier. “Not usually. Delivering supplies to schools were my favorite assignments.”
“That sounds fulfilling.”
He didn’t answer.
“This is the point in the story something really bad happened, isn’t it?” Her light as a feather touch on his scar brought his gaze to hers. “Is that how you got…”
“Ah, nay. My scar is from an accident I had on the cliffs when I was a lad. Short story is that I