and the warmth in his eyes, it seemed to stir that molten feeling.
“Just speakin’ the truth.”
“You speak with too much familiarity.” She rested her head in her hand, watching him. He locked eyes with hers and somehow their chocolate depths darkened, his voice husky when he spoke.
“I really canna help it,” he answered. “I feel as though I know ye, as though I’ve known ye my whole life.”
She felt it, too, an odd and inexplicable connection that seemed to justify her sudden lust. And though the feeling was brief and fleeting, it sent a shock through her body.
Unable to think straight, Morrie sat up and looked out, hoping if she focused on the storm clouds rolling in, it would help relieve the strange sensations at play within her. Lips parted, she took a breath.
“How much farther?”
Kade cleared his throat. “Not much.”
Thank the gods , Morrie thought. Another half mile and she might end up ordering Kade to pull over and take her there in the cow pastures.
The old truck struggled the last ten yards up the drive to the restaurant. It was nothing more than a dark, worn out shack sitting on top of a seaside cliff, but it had a sort of gothic, romantic appeal.
Down below several fishing boats were docked, their nets spread out and hanging. A couple of other trucks were parked outside, facing the ocean.
Morrie frowned at the deteriorated state and wondered what kind of food a place so destitute would serve. She jumped down from the truck, mud splashing as her feet hit the ground, her eyes on the old building.
Kade came around, his black Wellies squishing in the mud. “Come now, lass, doona be afraid,” he said and placed a hand on her lower back, ushering her forward.
“I’m not afraid,” she muttered. “Just apprehensive.”
He laughed and took her elbow as they both climbed the rickety, rain-slick steps.
Morrie felt remorse over her quick judgment; inside the restaurant was warm and cozy, with soft lamplight and polished tables and chairs. Best of all, it was clean and well kept.
A large, redheaded woman stood behind the bar, a white apron strained around her waist. She was wiping her hands with a dishtowel when she looked up, her eyes brightening at the sight of Kade. It would seem the whole town had that reaction to him.
“Maister Kade!” she cried. “We’ve missed ye, lad. Where’ve ye been?”
“Away on business, Maddie,” Kade answered with sincere warmth, leaning over the bar to peck the woman on her round, ruddy cheek. “Did ye rob an angel o’ her beauty, luv?”
“Ack, yer inna mood,” the lady gushed, blushing as red as her hair. She eyed Morrie with a gleam in her eye. “And I see why! Ye brought back wid ye a bonny prize?”
“This here’s Morrie Brandon, visitin’ from the States,” Kade introduced her, his hand resting again on her lower back. It seemed to have made itself at home there much too easily.
Hoping the cold masked her blush, Morrie nodded and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Maddie placed her fists on her hips and smiled. “Ah, an American? Well, welcome tae the Highlands, miss.”
“We’re going tae take this table over here, luv,” Kade said, pointing at a two-seater by the window with an unimpeded view of the ocean.
Maddie nodded. “Aye, I’ll bring ye menus,” she said as Kade ushered Morrie to the table, pulling out a chair for her.
Morrie slipped off the coat Lorna had leant her; Kade took it as she sat before removing his own coat and hanging both up on hooks on the wall that held all the patrons’ belongings.
The table had a breathtaking view sitting just on the cliff’s edge. Below them the white waves crashed against the rocky shore. The ocean stretched out grey and powerful, above it the remaining daylight barely bled through the crushing cloud cover.
Maddie brought menus and two glasses of water.
Kade looked up, grinning. “If ye could bring a large Dr. Pepper and
“Just speakin’ the truth.”
“You speak with too much familiarity.” She rested her head in her hand, watching him. He locked eyes with hers and somehow their chocolate depths darkened, his voice husky when he spoke.
“I really canna help it,” he answered. “I feel as though I know ye, as though I’ve known ye my whole life.”
She felt it, too, an odd and inexplicable connection that seemed to justify her sudden lust. And though the feeling was brief and fleeting, it sent a shock through her body.
Unable to think straight, Morrie sat up and looked out, hoping if she focused on the storm clouds rolling in, it would help relieve the strange sensations at play within her. Lips parted, she took a breath.
“How much farther?”
Kade cleared his throat. “Not much.”
Thank the gods , Morrie thought. Another half mile and she might end up ordering Kade to pull over and take her there in the cow pastures.
The old truck struggled the last ten yards up the drive to the restaurant. It was nothing more than a dark, worn out shack sitting on top of a seaside cliff, but it had a sort of gothic, romantic appeal.
Down below several fishing boats were docked, their nets spread out and hanging. A couple of other trucks were parked outside, facing the ocean.
Morrie frowned at the deteriorated state and wondered what kind of food a place so destitute would serve. She jumped down from the truck, mud splashing as her feet hit the ground, her eyes on the old building.
Kade came around, his black Wellies squishing in the mud. “Come now, lass, doona be afraid,” he said and placed a hand on her lower back, ushering her forward.
“I’m not afraid,” she muttered. “Just apprehensive.”
He laughed and took her elbow as they both climbed the rickety, rain-slick steps.
Morrie felt remorse over her quick judgment; inside the restaurant was warm and cozy, with soft lamplight and polished tables and chairs. Best of all, it was clean and well kept.
A large, redheaded woman stood behind the bar, a white apron strained around her waist. She was wiping her hands with a dishtowel when she looked up, her eyes brightening at the sight of Kade. It would seem the whole town had that reaction to him.
“Maister Kade!” she cried. “We’ve missed ye, lad. Where’ve ye been?”
“Away on business, Maddie,” Kade answered with sincere warmth, leaning over the bar to peck the woman on her round, ruddy cheek. “Did ye rob an angel o’ her beauty, luv?”
“Ack, yer inna mood,” the lady gushed, blushing as red as her hair. She eyed Morrie with a gleam in her eye. “And I see why! Ye brought back wid ye a bonny prize?”
“This here’s Morrie Brandon, visitin’ from the States,” Kade introduced her, his hand resting again on her lower back. It seemed to have made itself at home there much too easily.
Hoping the cold masked her blush, Morrie nodded and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Maddie placed her fists on her hips and smiled. “Ah, an American? Well, welcome tae the Highlands, miss.”
“We’re going tae take this table over here, luv,” Kade said, pointing at a two-seater by the window with an unimpeded view of the ocean.
Maddie nodded. “Aye, I’ll bring ye menus,” she said as Kade ushered Morrie to the table, pulling out a chair for her.
Morrie slipped off the coat Lorna had leant her; Kade took it as she sat before removing his own coat and hanging both up on hooks on the wall that held all the patrons’ belongings.
The table had a breathtaking view sitting just on the cliff’s edge. Below them the white waves crashed against the rocky shore. The ocean stretched out grey and powerful, above it the remaining daylight barely bled through the crushing cloud cover.
Maddie brought menus and two glasses of water.
Kade looked up, grinning. “If ye could bring a large Dr. Pepper and
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