Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,20
my eyes as I look back at him and nod toward his fan club. “You shouldn’t be hanging out here. You’ll alienate your chances with the entirety of the desperate housewives in the neighborhood.”
He shakes his head. “Never worried much about what others thought of me. Not planning to start now.”
“You don’t say?”
His lips twist up.
When my eyes, that have been holding steady on his stunning green ones and his sinfully sexy smile, drift down, he clears his throat. When I look up, his brow is arched.
I arch mine back. “Why the scorpion? Is it your sign or something?”
He cocks his head. “My what?”
“Astrological sign?”
“No idea what my sign is, Ms—”
“Lizzie.”
He counters, “Elizabeth.”
I don’t normally like the use of my full name, but I allow it, because I kind of love the way he says it.
“So, why the scorpion?”
He crosses his arms and his brows furrow. “What do ye know about Scots, aside from what ye’ve learned from the show ye get yerself off to?”
I feel my eyes widen and imagine they’re popping out of my head.
He shrugs like he did not just bring up one of the most embarrassing moments in my life as he leans in and looks at the garage door opener, pulling it off the visor. Then he continues talking as he walks to Dad’s workbench, “Americans ask questions we Scots wouldn’t dream of asking on a first meet. Like what do ye do for a living, are ye married, what clan are ye from, have ye watched Braveheart.”
I watch him open a few drawers until he finds what I assume he’s looking for.
“Ye generalize. Not all men are Jamie Fraser, Elizabeth. Not all are virgin kilt-wearing, freedom-screaming warriors.”
He stops and looks back at me. “Ye have four triple A batteries?”
Unable to form the word no, I shake my head.
“I’ll be back.”
“I can go get—”
“I’ll be back,” he cuts me off as he ducks under the partially closed door.
I see him nod and wave, see him say something to the housewives as he walks by, but what I don’t see is him stopping to chat. He keeps going.
As soon as he’s across the road, all eyes are on me. Sissy waves to me and smiles. If this was the first time that she did that, I would have ignored her, but it’s not. Out of all five of them, she’s the only one who has ever acknowledged me, so I lift my hand to her.
When the others wave, I turn my back. I don’t care if they think I’m being a bitch or if they think I didn’t see them.
Bunch of bitches.
In less than five minutes, Dr. Stewart, no longer shirtless but wearing a white tee-shirt, jogs across the road, holding Fraser to his chest.
“Oh my God, he’s adorable,” Margie cries out like she’s never seen a cute dog in her life.
He nods and sets him down without a leash, and continues walking toward the garage.
“Come here, little baby,” Margie says, squatting down.
Fraser— I mean Scotch— looks at her, raises his little nose, and continues trotting behind Ethan.
He holds up the package. “Got eight. Put four in yer car’s compartment in case ye run into the same problem again.”
“Thanks.” I squat down and hold out my hand. “Hey, Scotch.”
He runs up and allows me to pet him.
I look up and see the unwanted visitors at the mouth of my driveway begin to scatter and can’t help laughing.
When I hear the sound of my door, I pick Scotch up and scratch under his chin, worried it may scare him and he may take off and get squished by the closing door.
“He likes ye.”
I look over at Ethan and nod. “He’s got good taste.”
He chuckles as he opens the car door, setting the batteries inside and putting my opener back on the visor.
“As do I.” He shuts the door and walks around the car toward me. He stops and crosses his arms, causing his biceps, pecs, and even his shoulder muscles to bulge in unison. “Yer beauty isn’t lost on me, Elizabeth.”
Holy. Shit.
“But I’m not yer type.”
I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does.
He narrows his eyes. “Ye have an innocence that would be ruined by what I’d demand of ye.”
Tingles.
“Add to it yer address and attraction be damned.”
I swallow hard.
“I’ve not time for a relationship and no desire in my flesh nor bones for romance. Ye mentioned trying to find a mate. I’m not him. What I will offer ye is a house call