Page 4 of My Highland Fling
“Did you want a drink?”he asked, offering a friendly smile.
His female friends told him a grin took him into handsome territory, so he did his best work.
She nodded, her gaze direct and full of interest, and Ramsay wanted to cheer.He squeezed over, creating space for her at the bar.“Here you go.”
The corners of her brown eyes crinkled, and dimples formed both sides of her mouth as she grinned at Ramsay.“Thanks.”
She squeezed past the now scowling biker and pressed close to him.Ramsay felt the heat from her body through the tight jeans and her blue shirt.She was of medium height and came up to his shoulders.Her golden blonde hair fell in tousled curls, and she bore healthy curves that told him she enjoyed food.His favorite sort of woman, given he was a trainee chef.
“What are you having to drink?”
“Do they have beer here?”
“They do.”Ramsay couldn’t tell where she was from, but she didn’t have a Scottish accent.It sounded more continental, but what did he know?
She frowned and stepped from foot to foot.Her behavior was a combination of excitement and nerves, and Ramsay wasn’t sure what to do with the info.
“Would you like to try my beer?”
She nodded, and he handed her his pint glass.She took a cautious sip before swallowing the amber liquid.
“That’s refreshing.This is perfect.”
Ramsay signaled the bartender and asked for another pint of the local lager.
Scott, one of the Middlemarch contingent, wandered over.“Should I take these beers?”
“Please.”Ramsay handed Scott two pints.Scott disappeared, and Liam collected the remaining drinks.
Liam glanced at the woman.“I’ll tell them you’re busy at the moment.”
Ramsay nodded his thanks and focused on the blonde again.
“My name is Ramsay.What is yours?”
“Gabrielle,” she said after a brief hesitation.She stared at him as much as he studied her, then she smiled, a slow curve of her luscious lips.
Ramsay’s thoughts dived straight to sex, and he experienced difficulty controlling his wayward dick.A first for him.
“You don’t sound Scottish,” she said.
“No, I’m from New Zealand,” Ramsay replied.“You’re not a local either.”
“Just a quick visit,” she said.“Could we find a quieter corner?I’d love to learn more about New Zealand.”
Hell, yes!Using his height to his advantage, he spied a vacant table right in the back.A fantastic notion.
“Come on.There’s a table back there.Let’s move before someone else has the same idea.”He grasped her free hand and used his bulk to clear a path toward the table.
Excitement roared through Ramsay, a sense of rightness and determination.This woman was his mate.He had a mate.Him.After a crummy childhood with deadbeat parents, he and his younger sister had gone out on their own.Terry had fallen in with a dangerous crowd, dragging him with her until he’d found a home in Middlemarch.An adopted family.That was part of the reason he’d attended the gathering.Saber Mitchell, chairman of the Feline Council, had asked him to represent their town, so he’d agreed and come to the Glenkirk gathering.
He hadn’t expected to find a mate.Not really, and this blew his mind.That she was a human was more problematic, but he could deal.
“Tell me about New Zealand,” she repeated.“You’re a long way from home.”
“I’m here with six friends.We come from Middlemarch, a small country town in the South Island of New Zealand.We’re representing our community at a gathering at the castle.”
“A gathering?”She crinkled her nose in an appealing manner.
