The Accidental Scot (19 page)

Freda stripped out of her new clothes, upset that she'd allowed her new outfit to be wrinkled on account of a pigheaded man. She would take care of her new clothes. She would take care of herself. And to hell—
her mother wouldn't approve of her swearing either
—with what Lachlan thought.

She suddenly wanted food. She went in the kitchen, pulled out a bannock, and leaned against the counter. Sitting in front of her on the tiny table was the basket that held her English paper piecing project, the quilt she'd started for Pippa long ago. Suddenly she felt the urgent need to get it finished.

But first she would shower. And then she'd start living her life again.

Not the life where she'd devoted herself to Lachlan, like before, but something . . . new.

*   *   *

Max sat in his room over the pub for a long time. No matter where he ended up tonight, he was screwed. He should pack up and relocate to one of the small towns nearby, like Lios or Fairge. But the reality was that Max
wanted Pippa in his bed. Whether it was here or there, it made no difference.

Pretty sure he was stuck, he crammed his things in his bag and left. But as he passed Quilting Central, he got a glimpse through the window of Pippa at her sewing machine. NSV's chief engineer had the same effect on him as always—she stole his breath away. He made a detour inside and watched while she worked.

She was focused on chain-stitching pieces together, a technique he'd seen his mother and his sister do.

He sauntered up behind her chair. “What are you working on, roomie?” He was being a smart-ass, but surely she understood why.

She jumped and the not-so-nice-boy-in-him felt satisfied that he'd rattled her.

“What are ye doing here?” she said.

Max took the chair beside hers and pulled it nearer. “I won't just walk into your house and make myself at home. I thought you should be there while I settle into my new residence.” And because she was so close, and she was staring at him steadily with her sea-blue eyes, a jet of heat filled his chest. Or maybe it was lower.

He shifted.
No, definitely lower.

He exhaled. “What do you say? Can you help a cowboy out?”

She barked a laugh. “Ye're as much of a cowboy as I am the quintessential country lass.” She turned off her machine. “Aye. I'll help ye get settled.” She put her sewing things away and grabbed her coat.

Once he was out of Quilting Central and he had a bit of distance from her, his head cleared a little. “Did you
send the contract off to MTech today? Have they responded?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Like ye said, I need to read through our changes one more time. I want to be absolutely sure before we move forward.”

“Well, this might hurry you along. Miranda is on her way back. She texted me a while ago. Her business was cut short.”

“Can't you tell her to go back to where she came from? That you have this under control?”

“Pippa, that ship has sailed. All the Christmas stuff you involved me in might've been worthwhile, but it took precious time away from working on the deal.”

She patted his chest, patronizing him. “Ye should get over whatever qualm ye have with Christmas. It's the most wonderful time of the year.”

He stilled her hand, holding it in place over his heart. “You know nothing about it.” His tone was dead serious, and captured her attention.

Her eyes implored him. “I can understand anything if ye'd only tell me.”

He never talked about it, but suddenly he was talking to
her
.

“I told you about Jake's accident happening on Christmas Eve?”

“Aye.”

“But there's more. Much more.”

“Go on.” She leaned closer as if she really wanted to be there for him.

“When I was fifteen, I still loved the holidays.” Max let the words pour from him. He told her about the last
time he'd seen his dad, the guilt over blowing him off, and the sense of loss he'd felt ever since.

“I've never told anyone before about how responsible I feel, not even my family, because I was afraid if I talked about it, that I'd relive the pain of losing Dad all over again.”

The empathy in her eyes showed such compassion that he knew she understood.

He let go of her hand, feeling spent. “The worst part is, I didn't get a chance to tell my dad I was sorry.”

She left her one hand over his heart and wrapped the other arm around his waist. She spoke into his chest. “I can't imagine what you went through. I don't know what I would do without my da.” She kissed his chest as though trying to heal the pain in his heart. “Here's what I know. You loved yere da, and I'm sure he knew it. I would bet anything he understood that teenage boys need to hang out with their friends.” She rubbed his back. “Yere da, after all, was a boy once himself.”

Her words soothed him from the inside out. The weight wasn't completely lifted, but shifted off his chest enough to where he could breathe without it hurting so much.

Before he could thank Pippa, the door to Quilting Central opened. Deydie and Moira walked out and stopped abruptly, as if a selkie sat at the railing where he and Pippa stood. Deydie frowned, and Moira hid the first smile that he'd seen from her.

“What are ye doing there, Pippa?” Deydie barked. “I thought I made myself clear earlier.” The old woman glanced at the door of Quilting Central as if she might go back in and get her broom.

Pippa opened her mouth, and Max smiled. He was pretty sure the words that were going to fly weren't going to be pleasant. But Moira latched onto Deydie's arm first.

“We need to hurry to my house. I promised Glenna that you, me, and Mattie were going to make cookies to put in the freezer for the going-away party.”

Deydie glowered at Moira and then pointed at Pippa. “Watch yereself, girl.”

Pippa pulled away. They waited until Moira and Deydie were out of sight.

He felt jagged, raw, but better. “We should get going.”

Back at the house, they peeked in on the McDonnell, but he wasn't awake.

She pointed to the steps. “Take your things upstairs to Da's room. You'll be able to figure out which one.”

“The one without stuffed animals?”

“Very cheeky.”

As he started up the stairs, the front door opened. Maggie, who was married to Ross's brother John, was standing there with a roasting pan covered in foil. She looked from Max to Pippa, and frowned.

“What is
he
doing here?”

Great. Just what I need.
Max came back down to stand with Pippa. “Apparently, I live here for now.”

Maggie made a guttural noise and glared at both of them. “Does Ross know?”

Pippa rolled her eyes. “Nay. But I'm sure ye'll fill him in. Neither Max nor I are happy about it, Maggie, so ye can stop with the attitude. The McDonnell decreed it.”

But when she said
the McDonnell
, Max knew she was remembering she was the McDonnell now.

From the den, the man in question cleared his throat. “Is something going on?”

Pippa shot Maggie a look, but spoke to her father. “Maggie stopped by with some dinner and was just leaving.” Pippa took the pan. “Thank you.”

Maggie huffed out. Max figured there'd be hell to pay. He just didn't know who was going to get the brunt of it—Pippa, him, or Ross.

Max took the stairs while Pippa carried the pan into the kitchen. How in the world did he ever get wrangled up in this mess? He certainly hadn't anticipated any of this: getting trapped in Gandiegow's gossip mill, being bossed around by a large Scotsman, but only after being nearly caught wrapped up in the sheets with his beautiful daughter.

At the top of the stairs there were three doors. One led to the bathroom, the second to the McDonnell's room, and the third to Pippa's. He stepped into her room and looked around. She had a tool kit and a half-fixed broken fan on her desk. A black dress hung on a hanger looped over the closet door. And a stack of folded laundry was sitting on the bed with colorful panties lying on top. He picked up one of the lacy bits and examined it. Last night, they'd been in such a hurry to get naked, he hadn't paid attention to what she wore.

“They won't fit ye.” She stood in the doorway with one raised eyebrow. “Does this look like my da's room?”

“I got lost,” he deadpanned. He picked up another of her panties and held it out to her. “Care to model these for me?”

“Nay. Dinner's waiting for ye in the kitchen.”

It was a bad idea to get too domestic. He shook his head. “I can't. I'm meeting Miranda at the pub. She should be back by now and I'm supposed to give her an update on what we accomplished.”

“Simultaneous climax?” Pippa asked. “I didn't think ye were the type of lad to kiss and tell.”

Pippa was messing with him and he wasn't having it.

Yes, they'd shared a moment outside Quilting Central and connected on a deeper level, but that didn't change anything. It was a bad idea to set up camp in the bedroom next to hers. A terrible idea. He stared down at her panties still in his hand. He wanted nothing more than to spread her on top of her unmade bed and have her pleading for him to give her more. It took everything in him to drop her underwear back on the pile and walk out.

He opened the other bedroom door and set his bag inside. When he turned around, Pippa still stood in her doorway, pinning him with a glare.

“That's it?” she said. “Ye've got nothing else to say?”

He gave her a determined smile. “Yes. Don't wait up.” And he forced himself to walk down the stairs and out the front door.

*   *   *

Pippa stomped downstairs and went to the kitchen. She needed to make a tray for her da. He needed to take his
pills.
Then I need to call Emma and have my head examined
.

When she got to the den with her father's dinner, she switched the light on.

“What's all the ruckus about?” her da asked.

“Max moved in.”

“Good.” Da leaned to look around her, wincing with the movement. “Where is he now? He's having dinner with us, isn't he?”

Pippa rolled her eyes. “He's off to the pub.”

“To see Miranda?” It was the first time her da had actually used her name.

“Aye. I don't trust her, Da.” Pippa couldn't tell him, for many reasons, about her crazy jealousy.

The McDonnell assessed her for a long minute and then cleared his throat. “Daughter? Didn't ye say that ye had a shift tonight at the pub?”

“Nay. That's tomorrow night.”

“No, I believe it's tonight,” he insisted.

Pippa turned toward him. “But—”

“If I were you,” he said. “I think I'd show up at the pub anyway. Sooner rather than later.”

“Da, are you ordering me to go to the pub tonight?” she asked anxiously.

“I wouldn't dream of telling a grown woman what to do.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You're the best man I know.”

He smiled, and for a brief moment, he looked like his old self. “Aye. Now, get on with ye.”

Pippa stopped in mid-flee. “Is Freda coming over to play canasta tonight?”

He turned away. “She's busy.”

“I'll call her,” Pippa said. “I don't want ye left alone.”

“I'm a grown man myself. I need my peace and quiet.”

“But Freda—”

He shifted his gaze away from Pippa. “Freda won't be back.”

“But Da—”

“Leave an old man alone. Go on now. I need ye to watch out for the Yank, because I'm not there to do it.”

She knew he was conflicted—a pair of lines wedged between his eyebrows. Sending her to watch out for Max was like having a mouse guard the cheddar.

“If ye're sure.”

When he nodded, she grabbed her coat. Da would have to be okay for a few hours. Pippa had one goal tonight. Keep Miranda from getting her hooks in Max again.

W
hen Pippa got to the pub, she joined Bonnie behind the bar while scanning the room.

Bonnie sidled up beside her. “What are you doing here? Tonight's my night. Did ye forget?”

“Nay. Just came in to keep my eye on things.” Pippa located Max at the back booth, alone, with a shot of whisky. “You go on home. I've got this.”

Bonnie eyed her and where she was looking. She grabbed a rag and wiped down the bar. “Something tells me I better stay.”

Just as Pippa was relaxing, thinking maybe Max had fibbed about meeting with Miranda,
Herself
walked into the pub. Her gaze fell on Max as a slow smile covered her face. It was a scheming smile if Pippa had ever seen one. Instead of Miranda attacking her prey, she headed to the bar first.

“My, my,” the woman said. “Here again?”

Pippa wanted to scratch her eyes out. “What can I get for ye? Another ale?”
A pint of poison?

“For you to stay behind the bar this time. Max and I have business to discuss and I don't want you horning in like you did last time.”

“My da sent me to watch out for him tonight.” Pippa didn't know why she'd admitted that, except maybe to warn Miranda off.

Miranda surprised her by laughing.
“Lachlan.”
She purred his name. “Your father, my dear girl, is one hell of a man.”

Pippa went cold with dread. “What are ye talking about?”

She laughed again heartedly. “Oh, he didn't tell you?” She
tsk
ed. “Maybe it was supposed to be a secret. But alas, I've let the cat out of the bag.”

Pippa froze. She didn't want to hear any more.

Miranda had no mercy. “You know, MTech sent me to meet with Lachlan in Edinburgh. I recall that it was after you and he had lunch at a café with a strange name. Oh, now I remember, The Elephant House.”

Where Harry Potter was written.
Pippa had had lunch with Da there about a year ago, when he was in town on business. She hadn't asked him about it, more interested in telling him how her job was going than what was happening with NSV.

Miranda ran her index finger along the bar. “We had dinner and went back to my room. It was a hell of a night. Your father is a skilled lover. One of the best that I've ever had.” She gazed back at Max deliberately as if to telegraph that Max was a skilled lover, too.

But Pippa couldn't wrap her mind around the new information:
My father slept with Miranda?

Max watched them and looked concerned.

“How do I know ye're not making all this up?”

Miranda laid her money on the bar. “Ask your father. Better yet, take me to him; I'd like to be there when you do.”

“No!” Pippa's hand closed around a bottle of whisky
and she squeezed. “What do you want? Why are you telling me this?”

“It's just a friendly warning. Max and I do business the same way. We'll do anything to make the deal.”

Bam. The punch line. Pippa's heart lost several beats. It was true. The only thing Max cared about was the deal. He'd pretty much said so. He'd do anything to have the subsea shutoff valve.

Looking increasingly concerned, Max stood. Pippa's breath hitched—from pain or from some perverse sexual attraction to the enemy, she didn't know.

He scanned her face. Then his eyes shifted to Miranda. He stalked over to them, but spoke to Pippa. “What's going on here?”

Miranda slid her hand down Max's arm. “Girl talk. You wouldn't understand.”

“Pippa, are you all right?” He reached out to her.

But Pippa jerked away, knocking the whisky bottle over. She caught it before it shattered on the floor. “I have to get home. I have to see to my da.” She had her coat and was gone before Max could stop her.

Outside, she could no longer hold back the tears. Her da was the best man she knew. Why then would he let himself get caught up in that Delilah's bed? It was the final blow to what Pippa believed her father to be—a man with good sense.

“Are all men idiots?” she hollered to the wind.

She'd thought her father was the one man in the world she could trust. But lately, she'd uncovered evidence of the opposite. The shape of the factory. Mortgaging the house to make payroll. Sleeping with Miranda,
who clearly was bankrupt when it came to moral integrity.

All these years Pippa had believed her da extraordinary. But the rose-colored glasses were off. He was an extremely flawed man.

“He really can't read people,” she whispered, wiping away the tears.

He said Max wouldn't hurt any of them. Yet Max had used her to get what he wanted.

“I can't believe I had sex with him.”

“What?”

Pippa jumped.

Ross was standing right behind her. “Can I talk to you?”

“Now's not a good time. We can talk tomorrow at the factory.” Then Pippa remembered what she and Max had done in her office. “Or we could meet at the restaurant in the morning for tea.”

“Maggie cornered me tonight at dinner. Said the Yank had moved in with ye.” Ross looked troubled.

Surely he wasn't jealous.

“So?” Pippa challenged. “It was Da's idea. Ye know how he can be when he's made his mind up. There's no changing it.”

“But McKinley isn't really what I want to talk about.”

“Then what?”

“I think we should stop dancing around the issue and stand up to our obligations for our families' sake. It's time we set a date.”

Crap!
The universe really had it in for her. She could deal with only one crisis at a time. And she was still reeling over what Miranda had said at the pub. But Pippa
was way overdue in telling Ross the truth. She took his arm, ready to steer him away for a talk, but was interrupted.

“Pippa?” Max hurried up to them. “Why did you disappear?” He glanced at her hand wrapped around the other man's arm.

Ross patted her. “I'll leave ye to talk to the Yank and tell him how it's going to be.” He walked away without a backward glance.

Max reached out and snagged her upper arm. “What did Miranda do to upset you?”

Pippa pulled away. “Give me some space, Max.” Unfortunately, it sounded a little like pleading. She hated coming from a place of weakness. She had been weak for Max almost from the beginning. But no more.

“But what about the contract?” he said.

Aye. The only thing he cared about.

He implored her with his eyes. “It has to be sent in. Miranda said time is running out. We can go over it again together tonight if you like.”

“Is that code for more sex? Never mind. I'll take care of the contract. Now leave me be.”

His brows furrowed deeper. “Talk to me. What's going on?” He seemed to be remembering everything good that they'd shared. Working on the contract together. Making love. Those moments of having a deep connection. And then he said it.

“What about us?”

“There is no
us
, Max.” She couldn't do this anymore. This was good-bye as far as she was concerned. She chewed her lip for only a second before deciding to use
Ross as her excuse just one more time. She steadied her gaze on Max and delivered the words that would sever her from this man, now and forever.

“You forget yereself, Yank. I'm engaged.”

Max stilled, but she could see the fiery anger building in him. “Since when, Pippa?” The words shot out like missiles. “Since this afternoon when you climbed on top of me and came in my arms?”

Numbness consumed her. She wouldn't think about making love to him, how wonderful it'd been, how reckless. “Go back to the pub, Max. Miranda's waiting.”

He glared at her for one more moment, then turned and was gone. Which was good. She needed to find Ross.

She spotted him at the Armstrongs' fishing boat, checking the lines, making sure they were secure.

“Hey.”

He glanced up. “All done with the Yank? That was fast.”

She was done with him all right, but it hurt too much to voice it. “Can we step aboard for a minute?”

“Sure.” Ross must've understood the need for privacy, because he went into the wheelhouse and she joined him there. For a long minute, they stood looking out at the sea.

She'd put this off for so long, she didn't know where to start.

“Spit it out, Pippa.” He gave her a brotherly frown, like he'd done a million times before.

She slipped into the captain's chair and folded her hands in her lap, not meeting his gaze. “Ye know, don't you, that we can't do this.”

She hadn't been clear, but she'd finally said it, and he knew her meaning. The air hung with renewed stillness. She waited.

Ross took the other chair and collapsed into it. “Gawd, Pippa.” But he exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath since the day the fathers had agreed on their nuptials. He shook his head. “Can we really let the town down? The McDonnell? Are ye willing to step out on that frigging ledge?”

She exhaled, too. “Aye. Don't you agree that we care too much about each other to get married, especially when we don't love each other? In that way?”

They'd never dated, never kissed. The thought of kissing Ross made her cringe.

He didn't say anything, but looked like he was thinking the same thing.

“Ross, I've missed our easy friendship. I want it back.”

“Aye. Me, too. But what else do ye want?” He was digging.

She spun her chair toward him. “Well, I don't want to marry anyone, if that's what ye're asking.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Not even the Yank?”

“Not even the Yank.” Her words tasted like a lie.

Ross looked as if he didn't believe her anyway.

“I told him to leave me alone . . . That you and I were engaged.”

Ross's eyebrows crashed together. “Ye're making no sense. Five minutes ago we were engaged, but now we're not?”

She shrugged. “Telling Max that we were seemed easiest.”

“So what's going on between you and him?”

She spun her chair back to face forward. “Nothing.”

They were quiet for a long time. Finally, Ross broke the silence. “So what do we do now?”

“I'm not sure. I'm not ready to tell everyone that the wedding is off. Are ye?” She ran her hand over the controls. “The truth is that I don't have the bandwidth. Do you mind if we keep this to ourselves for now?”

“Fine by me. The uproar this is going to cause will be quite unpleasant.”

“I know.”

Even though they'd settled the future between them, the wheelhouse felt the slightest bit awkward. She slipped from her chair, walked over to her lifelong friend, and considered clouting him on the shoulder for old time's sake. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He seemed taken off guard at first, but then put his arms around her, too.

She grinned into his chest. “If I had to choose one person
not
to marry, ye know, I'd choose you every time.”

He shook his head, chuckling deeply, and patted her on the back. “And I'd choose ye, too, Pippa, you goofy lass.”

*   *   *

Miranda sipped a bit of ale, pleased with herself. She'd done the little Scottish girl a favor by waking her up to the cold hard facts of business. Sometimes a woman got
used
. Pippa would toughen up after this and not get taken again.

As a bonus, Miranda could have Max.

Sure, Miranda had been looking forward to seeing Lachlan again. In some corner of her mind, she may have imagined they could pick back up where they left off. He
was a smart, commanding man, both in bed and in real life. But even if they did hook up, she had no intention of making a life
here
. Max was a much more appropriate choice.

The door to the pub opened and frumpy Freda appeared, planting herself near the entrance, next to an old guy who must be one of the fishermen. Freda's platinum blond hair was gone, replaced with highlights and lowlights, and cropped neatly about her face. Miranda had to admit that her hair was attractive that way.

Freda slipped her coat off and Miranda saw that she was dressed differently, too. She had on a colorful, long-sleeved flowing blouse that was age-appropriate and attractive in a retiree sort of way.

What happened to the makeover I gave her?

Miranda turned away and spoke to the much-endowed barmaid, the one who doubled as the receptionist at NSV. “What's your name?”

The woman came closer. “Bonnie.”

“Give me a whisky.” Miranda wondered when Max was coming back. She was feeling restless.

Bonnie poured her a finger's worth into a tumbler. “How long are ye in town?”

Miranda wasn't in the habit of talking to barkeeps but she'd already made an exception with Pippa tonight. “As long as it takes.”

Bonnie leaned on the bar. “Then ye'll be here for the bachelor's auction?”

“What bachelor's auction?”

Bonnie pulled a flyer off the mirror behind the bar and handed it to her. “It's all in good fun. I've been
saving my money for one man in particular.” Bonnie nodded toward the entrance.

Max had returned, standing next to Freda, but in deep conversation with the old fisherman.

Certainly the barmaid didn't mean the old man. “McKinley's in the auction?”

“Aye.” A hungry gleam filled Bonnie's eyes. “He'll be worth every bit of cash I can pull together. Of course, I won't be the only local lass bidding on Max McKinley. I'm pretty sure Pippa will use her last pound to get him.” Bonnie sighed. “But I'm going to at least try.”

“What makes you so sure that he's going to do it?” Miranda asked.

“I've seen the list myself. And the pictures, too. Hell, I was there when the pictures were taken.” She got a satisfied smile on her face. “Take a look at the Kilts and Quilts blog if ye don't believe me.”