Loch and Key (10 page)

He should just give up on the idea of her now. There were plenty of women out there who’d made their interest in him known, but, hell, they may as well have been cardboard cutouts. There was no attraction. No chemistry. It had become a major problem. No woman had stimulated him on a mental and physical level the way Kenzie had.

Maybe if they hadn’t had that second kiss, that hot as hell second kiss on her doorstep, she might’ve been able to convince him she wasn’t interested.

But the way she kissed him back said otherwise. She didn’t want serious, but she didn’t want a one-night stand. Since his last girlfriend, he didn’t stick around with a woman for more than a month. It was a self-imposed rule he adhered pretty rigidly to. Self-preservation and all.

The news went to commercial and he scrubbed a hand down his jaw, sighing with frustration. No woman should take up this much of his thoughts. She’d successfully occupied his mind for over a year now. That was insane for a woman he wasn’t even sleeping with.

The words of the commercial registered and he turned his focus to the screen. Frowning, he watched the images flash across the screen. Bagpipes, women and children dancing, some kind of games involving a long pole, and then lots of men in kilts. The Highland Games. This was a local commercial for the upcoming Highland Games.

He sat up straighter. Kenzie was Scottish. Her family ran a Scottish pub. It was a long shot, but maybe there was a chance she went to these sorts of things.

It was this weekend. Two days from now. Chances were there was a group of sailors who’d be heading over there. Maybe he could tag along on the guise of needing to get some culture. Or some kind of bullshit.

Right now, he just wanted another chance to see her. If it meant showing up at some testosterone-laden event, then he’d damn well do it.

Yeah, tomorrow morning, he’d ask around the base and see who was up for it.

Chapter Seven

This was absolutely nothing like what he’d expected.

Brett glanced around the Highland Games and frowned slightly. It had almost a street fair atmosphere. Food booths, shopping booths, informational booths and various stages and areas where events were happening.

“They have a whisky tasting thing, Chief, and I think we should hit that up.”

Brett glanced over at Simmons. “It’s barely past noon.”

The sailor grinned. “Exactly. I already had my coffee. You coming?”

“Later. I’m going to wander for a bit. I’ll meet you guys over there.”

“All right. Later, Chief.” Simmons took off with a group of about five other sailors who were also under Brett’s command.

He bit back a sigh. Those guys drank a little too much maybe, but then, it was somewhat their age and lifestyle too. A lot of these young, unmarried sailors simply wanted to drink and get laid when they weren’t working. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Hell, he’d gone through a similar phase, but he was done with that shit now. Everything in moderation. Especially the drinking, and he rarely did that around his men anyway.

Brett stood where he was, glancing around the grounds and debating where to go first. The sound of bagpipes resonated in the warm afternoon. He could follow them. Maybe there was some kind of parade or something. He scanned the schedule he’d picked up.

The games portion of the event seemed to involve mostly men. Maybe he should check out the Highland dancing stage. There were various activities going on all day there.

He wandered over to the area, his gaze roaming the crowd for any sight of her. Finally he arrived at the stage where some of the dancing seemed to be taking place. Disappointment sank in as he watched the group of children performing onstage.

Children. Not the beautiful, grown Scottish woman he was hoping for. Still, he was so impressed by the little kids and their athletic dance to the bagpipes that he sat in one of the chairs to watch. Not to mention he was beginning to realize finding Kenzie here was a long shot.

The dance wrapped up and the children rushed offstage. His gaze naturally followed them, his lips twisting in amusement at their level of excitement.

There she was. His breath caught as he spotted her. Kenzie stood off to the side of the stage, embracing one of the little girls and clearly offering up praise.

He realized immediately why he hadn’t recognized her right away. Her most recognizable feature, her hair, was twisted in a bun on top of her head. Her makeup was dark, and she wore some kind of traditional Scottish dance outfit that was a long tartan skirt, and white blouse with a black vest over it, and some weird high-rise socks.

The outfit was about as non-sexy as you could get, and yet the only thought in his mind was how damn beautiful she was.

He watched from his seat near the back as the children transitioned offstage and a smaller adult group of female dancers replaced them. Just like the rest of the women, Kenzie was all smiles as the performance began.

She exchanged a glance with another dancer and threw back her head and laughed in delight. Clearly she loved this and dancing was her element. She was damn good at it.

Her gaze turned to the crowd, her smile wide. It faltered the moment she spotted him. So did her steps, but she quickly recovered. Her gaze swept away from him and her smile—more strained now—widened.

Brett stayed and watched the rest of the show, and it wasn’t one hundred percent because of Kenzie.

He watched in surprise and growing fascination at how athletic the dance was. Much kicking and jumping, and pretty much staying on their toes. Clearly this was at least part of how she kept in such good shape.

When the dance came to an end, the dancers exited the stage and clustered around chatting. Not Kenzie, though. She made a beeline for him.

“I don’t suppose your being here is a coincidence?” She propped a hand on her hip and gave him a pointed look.

“I’ve got a thing for Scottish chicks?”

Her gaze narrowed, but he swore he saw her mouth twitch.

“One in particular,” he added quietly. “That was some pretty impressive dancing there.”

“Thank you.”

Was the flush in her cheeks from his compliment, or from the dancing? Either way, he hadn’t noticed it a moment ago.

“I’m sorry you didn’t receive my flowers.”

“I did.” She must’ve realized her mistake in the admission a moment too late. Guilt flashed briefly in her eyes. “They were lovely. Thank you.”

“Sure they didn’t end up in the garbage?”

“Of course not. I gave them to a cute older couple having supper in the pub.”

At least that wasn’t quite as bad as the garbage. Though the garbage had probably been the final resting place for his pictures and the card.

“Why are you trying so hard, Brett?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She stared at him a moment before doing an aggravating eye roll.

“And how many women have you used that on? Because it sounds like one of the most cliché lines in the book.”

“Maybe I have used it before,” he admitted. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I’ve actually meant it about.”

“I’m not quite sure if that’s endearing or insulting. It does, however, sound like another line.” Her mouth curved into a half smile, before she glanced behind her at someone. The child she’d been embracing earlier.

“Who’s she?”

“My niece.” Her tone warmed. “She’s only taken up the dancing for less than a year now.”

He remembered the girl from the stage. She was a cute little thing.

“She did great.”

“Aye, she did.” Pride clearly resonated in Kenzie’s tone. Finally she turned to face him. “What will it take you to leave me be?”

“Do you really want me to?”

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Then she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled. God, but he wanted to be the one nibbling on the pink flesh.

“I didn’t call you,” she muttered, almost churlishly.

“Maybe you lost the card with my number on it.”

She arched a brow. “Maybe I threw it away on purpose.”

Actually, that was probably exactly what she’d done.

“Have a drink with me,” he commanded softly. “Or is there somewhere else you need to be? Do you have to watch your niece?”

“No. She’s going to watch her dad compete in several events in the games. Her mother’s taking her.”

He glanced beyond her to see the girl walking beside someone who must’ve been the mother. Both shared olive coloring and a somewhat exotic look about them.

“I have nowhere else to be, but give me a moment.” She disappeared briefly to talk to the woman.

The woman nodded, glanced his way curiously, and then walked off with the little girl.

“So that was a yes to the drink?” he queried when she returned.

“Do you drink whisky?” She answered his question with one of her own.

Not since he’d overindulged twelve years ago with a group of sailors and had been sicker than a dog.

“I have.” Ambiguity was always good.

“Let’s go do a tasting, if you think you can handle it.”

Damn, but had she just thrown down a challenge or what?

“Sugar, I’m at least half a foot taller and probably close to a hundred pounds more. I think I can handle it.”

“Right then.” She arched a brow and strode past him. “Shall we?”

Kenzie led Brett to the cordoned-off area that was designated for the twenty-one and older crowd. With him walking behind her, she was fairly certain he had a great view of her arse, but what did it matter? There wasn’t much to see since it was hidden beneath her heavy tartan skirt.

“Hello, Kenzie!”

As they moved into the tasting area, people started waving and greeting her. She knew these people well and saw them frequently at the different Highland Game locations.

“Good afternoon, Patrick. I’ve brought a friend in for a lesson on whisky.”

“All right.” The older man glanced at Brett and grinned. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you both started. Though Kenzie could probably run it herself, seeing as she has before.”

“Oh, you flatter me.” She winked at Patrick and took a seat at the table.

As the older man began preparing their sampling, Brett’s mouth suddenly thinned as he looked over her shoulder. A moment later she heard the roars and taunting of men behind her.

She turned and saw a group of young men approaching. Several of them familiar from their group dinner the other night.

“Hey, Chief, isn’t that Carl’s girl?” one called out, clearly a little buzzed already.

“My name is Kenzie, since you seem to be struggling to recall, and I’m nobody’s girl.” She gave them a saccharine yet bitchy smile.

Her response only encouraged them and they started hollering and clapping.

“She told you, Wilks.”

“Your whisky.” Patrick returned with two shot glasses and three bottles of whisky. “Shall I begin?”

Kenzie leaned over and gave him her most innocent, imploring smile, then asked quietly, “Actually, Patrick, I quite like the idea of running this one myself. Would you mind terribly? I’ll leave you my credit card to cover my arse in case.”

Patrick blushed and looked around. “Oh, well, I don’t see the harm in it. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

Once he disappeared, she turned back to face Brett.

“All right. Let’s get started.”

“Where did the other dude go? Patrick?” Brett looked slightly alarmed.

“He put you in my hands. You’re not worried, are you?”

“I’d be all right in her hands,” one of the sailors yelled, causing the rest to guffaw.

Little boys. They were like little fuckin’ boys.

“That’s enough,” Brett called out tersely, and the group immediately stood straighter and quieted.

They truly did respect him and his authority, even when not at work.

“All right. I have three bottles of whisky here. One is considered average, the other high-end, and the last more of a bargain one. Which shall we try first?”

“Bargain.”

Ah, now that surprised her. She fancied him for the high-end type of guy. The group of sailors seemed to grow bored and disappeared back to their own drinks.

She filled Brett’s glass with two fingers of whisky and then her own.

Brett reached for it immediately.

“Now I want you to—”

Before she could finish he’d tossed it back, swallowing the shot in one single gulp.

“Amateur.” She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Excuse me?” His eyes were watering and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re not to shoot the drink. We sip it. I want you to savor it and enjoy the complexity of the drink.”

“Complexity? It tastes like whisky. Isn’t that about all there is to it?”

She shook her head and refilled his shot. “Let’s try this again. Sip it. Tell me what you notice.”