“Right.” He grinned. “Just saying. Nice to know a big guy like that’s watching your back.”
That was kind of sweet, but I didn’t let him know I thought that. Instead I said, “As much as I appreciate the sentiment behind you throwing the eraser at Jack today, I need you to start thinking before you act. You’ve got a short fuse, Jarrod. That short fuse could get you into situations that you might not work your way out of easily and I want more for you than that. So when someone says something you don’t like or tries to get a reaction out of you, stop, think, and remember that you’re a smart kid with a bright future and a little brother who thinks the world of you.”
He stared at me a moment, seeming to process my words.
To my relief he didn’t give me a smart-arse retort. He just nodded.
CHAPTER 17
I
was coasting along, almost a little smug not only in my present contentment, but in the fact that I’d beaten my issues with the past.
Little did I know that the past doesn’t take too kindly to smugness, to disinterest. The past can be spiteful. It can creep up on the present to taunt it with the memories and all the old hurts.
It wasn’t snowing. For this I was thankful. Snow was for when you were curled up safe inside with a fire roaring in the grate. It wasn’t for when you were driving a rental to some unknown place in Argyll.
Marco had decided he wanted us to get away for the weekend. He said we needed to talk.
I knew it had to do with his mysterious weekends away and I was glad he was finally going to broach the subject. We’d been officially dating each other for a few weeks now. It was definitely time for me to know what was behind his disappearances, and I was preparing myself for the news.
What I hadn’t prepare for was the sight of the large old cottage on a hill overlooking the Holy Loch. My lips parted in wonder as the car drew to a stop on the gravel driveway. With its multicolored stone block facade, creeping vines, and old-fashioned windows made up of lots of little panels, the cottage was like something out of a fairy tale. Smoke puffed out of the top of the roof from a chimney, and a fat tabby cat skittered across the front doorstep as the car drew to a halt.
I glanced over at Marco and he smiled.
Before I could say a word he was out of the car and hurrying around to the passenger side to open my door. My feet had just touched the driveway when he grabbed my hand and tugged me gently over to the front door. Bending down, he unearthed a key from beneath a ceramic tortoise and let us inside.
Heat hit us and I followed Marco in a daze as he led me out of a small foyer into a hallway and then to the right. My eyes grew round with surprise as I took in the large sitting room. Antique furniture cluttered the space, but in elegant coziness. There were dark plum velvet sofas in the French style, a mahogany tea chest, and a huge crockery display cabinet with china plates. But best of all was the roaring fire in the massive fireplace on the main wall. Shadows danced around the darkening room as the flames from the fire licked out at us.
My gaze dropped to the chenille blanket that had been placed in front of the fire. On it were a hamper, a bottle of wine, and a red rose.
Marco squeezed my hand. “You once told me this would be your perfect date.”
Slowly, I turned to look at him in amazement.
… there was this scene where he takes her to this tiny cottage on his land, away from everything and everyone. They sit in front of a roaring fire, drinking and eating, sometimes talking, sometimes not. It was like there was no one else in the world but them…
“You remembered that?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion.
His head bent toward me, his lips brushing mine. “I remember everything.”
“I can’t believe you did all this.” I moved into him, wrapping my arms around him.
“I had a little help from the housekeeper, Dottie. She’s a bit of a romantic, it would seem.”
I laughed softly. “As are you, it would seem.”
He cradled my face in his hands, his thumb sweeping along my jaw before coming to a rest on my plump lower lip. “Only with you.”
I closed my eyes, soaking up the feel of him holding me, the sound of the fire, the heat of it against my skin, and in that moment I was reminded of the girl I used to be, the reluctant romantic who still believed there was something really special out there for her.
“I can never get enough of you,” Marco murmured, pressing soft kisses down my neck and across my naked shoulder.
Caressing his back, I made a contented purring sound in the back of my throat. My whole body was warm and languid after the two orgasms he’d just given me.
“I’ll be back.” He pressed one last kiss to the rise of my breast and then moved off me.
I pouted. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he disappeared from the sitting room and then returned a few seconds later with a washcloth.