Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,16

Yes, full, hot baths are also a splurge. Water and heat aren’t cheap, and I’ve had to cut corners at every turn since Dad passed and he left.

“And him being gone simply eased the financial burden.” Lifting my glass, I cheers the air. “We got this.” I take a sip and swallow. “Me and magic.”

Twenty minutes later, my body is less tense, and my ankle no longer feels like the skin may split open at any moment.

Wrapped in a towel, I remember my favorite pair of pajamas, which I plan to spend lots of time in tomorrow, are in the dryer.

I grab my phone and my glass of wine before making my way very carefully down the stairs.

After brushing my hair, throwing on my Jamie’s Sassy Sassenach lightweight sweatshirt and red tartan sleep shorts, I walk into the kitchen, flip on the light, open the fridge, refill my wineglass, and then grab the half a carton of Ben and Jerry’s and take them into my living room.

After placing everything on the side table, I grab my laptop, connect to the internet through my hot spot, and sign in to my cable account to have my Wi-Fi turned back on.

When the payment goes through, without the worry I won’t have enough for gas and insurance for the next month to get me to work, I throw a fist in the air and give out a loud, “Whoop, whoo— ” that is interrupted by an even louder knock on my door.

I glance at the clock.

Eleven eleven at night.

When I open the door, my jaw nearly drops, and before I know it, I’ve stepped back, allowing him in my house, again.

“Ye’re my patient,” he says as his eyes roam down my body, momentarily stalling on my chest. His jaw tenses, and his green eyes flare in sync with his nostrils.

So incredibly sexy.

Tingles.

Infuriatingly sexy.

Heat.

His eyes come to mine again as he begins kneeling.

Oh, hell.

Panic takes over, and I grab his hair, pulling him up.

UNWAXED!

His eyes widen as he looks up at me.

“You need to slow down with —”

“Ms. Bloom,” he interrupts.

“I think this is a bit too, much too soo—”

“Why don’t ye ease yer arse down onto that sofa so I can assess the damage ye’ve done to yerself today.”

Can you feel completely ablaze and numb at the same time?

Yes. Yes, you can … when you are completely and totally embarrassed by your assumptions.

“Ye’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbles. “Can ye not follow a simple instruction, Ms. Bloom?”

“I—”

He stands straight. “Elevate, ice, and stay the hell off yer leg.” He walks toward my kitchen and opens the freezer. “Kitchen towel!” he barks. “So I can wrap yer cold compress—”

“Okay …?” I start to get up and he spins around, pinning me with just a look.

“Don’t ye move,” he demands, and I freeze.

After several moments of glaring at me, he finally speaks. “Where’s yer cold compress and kitchen towels, Ms. Bloom?”

And I finally breathe. “No compress. Ice works. Kitchen towels …” I pause to think about where I may have put them, because my head feels like it may explode. “Dryer.”

He scowls. “Where’s yer dryer?”

I point toward the door just beyond him. “There.”

As soon as he turns his back and walks toward the bathroom, I cover my face and fight the extremely strong desire not to curl up and shove myself into a couch cushion … or run out the door and never come home, but I love my house. My house that I have almost lost a dozen times over the past three years because taxes and the cost of living nearly crushed me.

As I watch Dr. Nail-It-or-Screw-It walk out of the bathroom, grumbling to himself, I decide I need to do some major adulting here.

Adulting doesn’t mean eye-banging the man in the low-riding black gym shorts and white tank top, muscles working together like a freaking fine-tuned machine as he mumbles inaudibly and opens the freezer, wrapping the towel around something cold, Lizzie.

He turns, brows knit, and glares at me from behind the kitchen island. “Lie back, leg up, Ms. Bloom.”

Lying back, I tell myself, Pull up your bloomers, girl, as I adult.

“Look, you and I may have some sort of chemistry thing going on between us, but we’re neighbors.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy, but I’m not crazy.

This confirmed by Tonya.

“Deny it all you want, but as far as I’m concerned, this needs to stop now.”

“What’s going on here, Ms. Bloom”— he marches toward me— “is that ye