Page 86 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“I actually don’t have any public social media presence,” I tell her. “Just a private account.”

She freezes, phone in hand, her brow furrowed. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Of course.” She pockets her phone and sighs.

“Let me guess,” I venture, “Basti’s the same way?”

Olivia throws up her hands. “You two really could be twins!”

I smile. “I’ve already got one of those, actually.” Aila slides my drink onto the bar. I tell her thank you, pick it up, then lift mycane off the bar. “Nice to meet you, Olivia. Enjoy the rest of your night, and…good luck, with Basti.”

She blinks at me like I’ve surprised her. “What?”

“You just seemed so disappointed I wasn’t her. I assumed it meant…” I grimace. “I shouldn’t have assumed, though. If I misread, I’m sorry.”

“No…” She sighs miserably. “You didn’t misread.”

“Friends first?” I ask gently.

She nods, looking glum. “She wanted more. And I didn’t want to risk our friendship.”

“Friends to lovers. It’s not the low-stakes trope everyone makes it out to be.”

A laugh jumps out of Olivia, but I catch her quickly dabbing the corner of her eye, like a tear snuck out that she doesn’t want anyone to see. “I fucking love a friends-to-lovers romance.”

“Me, too.” I nudge her gently with my shoulder and give her an encouraging smile. “Good luck. I hope, however your and Basti’s story ends, it’s happy.”

She squeezes my arm. “Thank you.”

After a beat, I turn, starting back through the crowd, swatting more legs with my cane that come too close to bumping into me. I’m only focused on the two feet in front of me, making sure my path stays clear, so it’s not until I’m right at the edge of the booth that I notice the only people there are mermaid Margo and Sula in her villainous octopus dress, thoroughly making out.

I take a step back before they can notice me and turn toward the dance floor, where everyone else is—

And then I run right into a hard chest swathed in a loose white shirt that looks straight out of a regency novel, a sweep of plaid tartan drawn down over one shoulder. My gaze drifts down that beautiful blue plaid of sky blue and grass green checked with charcoalgray, and my eyes go wide. I’m looking at a kilt held tight at his hips by a black belt, a matching black sporran slung across it. I take in two scuffed black boots that slouch at two very sexy knees—holy God, who knew knees could be sexy. The Highlander of my dreams stands before me.

“Sorry I’m late,” Will says. “Turns out, kilts are a lot harder to put on than preliminary YouTube research led me to believe.”

I peer up at him, dazed, delighted, smiling ear to ear.

•Twenty-Six•

Will

Juliet’s smiling up at me like I’m the best damn thing she’s ever seen. It makes me feel ten feet tall. I’d like to smile back, but I’m short-circuiting as I take her in, head to toe.

She’s a vixen. Shiny black boots, tight black pants. A snug black blazer plunging low, revealing a torturously deep triangle of smooth white skin, the hint of a black lacy bra and the swell of her breasts.

I stand there, staring down at her, my hands turned to fists, no jean pockets where I can stow them to restrain myself. I want to touch her so badly it hurts. My heart kicks inside my chest, bangs and howls at how wrong it feels to look at her like this, to be this close and not be able to give in.

“Will!” she yells as the music ratchets up in volume.

Thank God she yells, because it’s beyond loud in here, and I’ve got the earplugs in, somewhat muting the noise around us, but the thumping bass, the background sound of blaring music, voices shouting, would make hearing her impossible if she were any quieter.

“You’re aHighlander!” she hollers, clutching my arm as she beams up at me.

I sigh as I peer down at her. “And you’re going to be the death of me.”

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