Page 99 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

I squeeze his hand.

Mari unearths her phone, taps it a few times, then spins it on the bar top, so I can see an email with a lineup of songs. My gaze drifts down the list.

And an idea comes to me. I squeeze Will’s hand again.Trust me, okay?

“You happen to have a guitar lying around?” I ask her.

Mari glances up, her gaze narrowed. “Yes. Why?”

I smile brightly. “Because I might be able to help you out. I can do that set.”

She blinks. “Youknow all those songs? And you can play them on the guitar?”

“You pick up a lot when you spend a month in Scotland,” I tell her. “And while I’m not as great a guitarist as I used to be, I can still probably manage to strum simple chords and accompany myself.”

Will squeezes my hand again. I can feel his concern radiating off him in waves.

“You’re shitting me.” Mari folds her arms across her chest. “Seriously?”

I softly sing the first few lines of “The Skye Boat Song.” When I’m done I flash a little jazz hands and smile. “You tell me.”

Mari’s arms drop to her sides, her expression stunned. “You’re hired.”

My smile widens. “Glad to be able to help. I think we might be able to help you with your other problem, too. The…whiskey shortage?”

I glance to Will, raising my eyebrows. He glances from me to the bartender, then to the box of whiskey he set on the stool beside him.

Mari frowns as he lifts the box and rests it on the bar. Then Will offers his hand across the bar and says, “Will Orsino. Great to finally meet you.”

Mari takes his hand, shakes it firmly, then folds her arms across her chest. “Orsino Distillery.” She nods. “Sells well. But it’s not the Scottish Society’s favorite.”

Will flips open the box lid and unearths a beautiful glass whiskey bottle that glows butterscotch in the light. A dark blue label, intricate gold lettering that spells out Orsino Distillery’s name, and below it,Aged 30 Years.

“Trust me,” Will says, uncorking the bottle, reaching for a glass that sits, inverted, at the bar’s edge. He flips it over, deftly pours a taste, and slides it Mari’s way. “Soon, it’s going to be.”

—

Will’s been watching me as I sit in a quiet corner on the other side of the pub with Mari’s guitar in my lap, willing my fingers to do what I want them to. But they really aren’t. I can strum, very bare-bones, but even that makes my wrists ache.

“Shit,” I mutter, shaking out my hand.

I glance over my shoulder and catch Will glancing my way again, torn from focusing on his conversation with Mari, which seems to be going fine, now that he got over the initial nerves of meeting her and introducing himself.

I nod toward her, indicating he should focus on Mari, then mouth,I’m okay!

He gives me an intense look and lifts his pinkie. A reminder that I’d be honest.

I grimace and revise:I’m so-so.

Will turns back to Mari, seems to politely excuse himself, then walks right toward me.

“Hey, big guy.” I bat my eyelashes, trying for a wide, breezy,no problems heresmile. “Things seem to be going well with Mari.”

“It hurts,” he says without preamble, pointing at my hands clutching the guitar.

I sigh. “Yeah, it hurts. I think I might just have to sing and wing it without the guitar. Which I really don’t mind. Ya girl’s done her fair share of karaoke, and those machines crap out more often than you think. I’m a seasoned veteran of singing unaccompanied, at this point.”

Will drags a chair from the nearby table and sits, then gestures for the guitar. “I’ll take that, if you don’t mind.”

---