Lachlan chuckled. “Do we have time limitations that I’m unaware of?”
“Rapid-fire questions are a great way to get to know someone.”
“Or panic them into giving bullshit answers,” he joked.
I laughed. “You’ve never been panicked in your life.”
“Wrong.” He smirked but continued. “Bánh xèo.” He pronounced it boon say-oh. “Vietnamese pancake, and delicious. I read a lot as a kid, and my favorite book when I was a teen was One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Cliché maybe, but it’s a classic for a reason. Don’t have time for pastimes, and my favorite band is Oasis.”
“Oasis?”
“Some of us grew up in the nineties, remember.”
“And some of us were only just born then, old man.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, minx. Now your turn.”
“Hmm, let’s see … favorite food is pizza. I know. Unimaginative, but it’s true.” I wrinkled my nose at the laughing glint in his eyes. “Hey, I could have made something up but I’m being real here.”
“Pizza. Okay. Nothing wrong with pizza. But I think we need to introduce you to some bánh xèo in the future.”
“That works for me.” No arguments there, especially if I got to try it in Vietnam. “Book: not a big reader but I do love Pride and Prejudice. We’re equally cliché in our literary tastes, but sometimes lots of people like the same thing because it’s good.”
Lachlan nodded, grinning. “Amen to that. Pastime? Band?”
“Pastime: kicking ass and taking names,” I said, referring to my martial arts training. “Band … the Eagles.” I lifted my head to rest my chin on his chest. “Stupidest thing you’ve ever been asked in an interview?”
His brow furrowed as he stared up at the ceiling in thought. “Hmm … Mostly, I was just asked the same boring shit over and over again.”
“Like?”
“Who was I dating? Who was my ideal woman? What was my workout routine? What did I eat? Did I manscape?”
“Those are shittier than my favorite-color question.”
Lachlan chuckled and reached out to brush his thumb over my lip. “Then ask me something else.”
I contemplated this and then tried to hide my smile. “What do you want most out of the person sharing your bed?”
His lips twitched, and I was glad he heard the teasing in my voice and didn’t take me too seriously. But then he surprised me with his answer. “To make me laugh.”
I couldn’t help my smile this time. “Good answer, handsome.”
“I’m glad you came here, Braveheart,” Lachlan admitted, his voice low, almost hoarse.
I felt a sudden increase in my heart rate as the thought occurred to me that at some point, perhaps even soon, I would no longer get to lie in bed and just talk with this man.
That wasn’t our future.
A desperation came over me, and I kissed him, hungry with intention as I pushed him onto his back.
His strong hands gripped my waist as I found him with my hand and guided him where I needed him.
If this was all I ever got from Lachlan Adair, I was going to make the most of it.
“I hate waiting around,” I muttered, biting into the sandwich I’d brought from Morag’s. I referred to the fact that our would-be killer had disappeared off the face of the planet.
Mac sat in his office chair, long legs up on his desk, chewing on the sandwich I’d bought him. My dad wasn’t too keen on me leaving the estate on my own, but I’d go insane if I couldn’t have some freedom. I liked wandering around the village and walking along the beach. I did him a favor and took my morning runs on the strip of coastline that belonged to the estate.
However, I’d just bought a drone so I could do some aerial photography while in the Highlands. My drone shots from New York and Boston were among my most popular, and it seemed a waste not to do it here. It would have to be outside the estate, though, because when I told Lachlan I’d ordered one, he warned me his geofencing antidrone technology would disable it if it was on or near the perimeter.
“Considering my daughter was the latest victim of the stalker’s attacks, I’m quite glad for the quiet,” Mac replied sardonically.
Because Mac and I had been the two most seriously affected by the crimes at Ardnoch, the detective inspectors started painting their own picture of the investigation. They believed the threats against Lachlan were a different case altogether. That there was someone who had a beef with Dad and me that was the greater threat than the stalker.
Their decision to not connect the dots back to Lachlan meant their investigation was as stalled as ours.
But at least we’d connected the right freaking dots.
“Yeah, but it would be nice to not have this hovering over us anymore.”
Mac considered this. Then, “Will you leave? When it’s over?”
I swallowed my bite of sandwich, meeting his hazel gaze. “Probably.” The thought made my chest tight. “I need to work things out with Mom. Make sure Regan is okay.”
He lowered his eyes. “Have you spoken with them?”
“I’ve emailed Mom. Just casual checking-in stuff. Regan still won’t answer her phone, but Seth assures me she’s fine. Still dating some loser, but fine.” Clearly, my sister wasn’t talking to me, but considering I’d done little to deserve that, I wasn’t going to chase her. She’d come to me when she pulled her head out of her ass.
Mac nodded. “I could … I could come visit.”
I smiled, relieved at the offer. “I’d like that. And I’ll be back, Mac. I love it here. I love spending time with you.”
My dad beamed. “Me too, wee birdie.”
“I’m thinking of traveling. On a shoestring budget, of course. But the preorders for my Highland photos prove it’s worth it, business-wise. I’ll be a travel photographer.”
“That sounds great, Robyn.” His brows pinched. “Will it be forever … or do you think you might choose somewhere to settle down?”
I heard the real query in his question, and it soothed something deep in my soul. My dad wanted me to come back to the Highlands. Permanently. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. While I loved my dad, this was a small community with little chance of meeting someone I’d want to settle down with. Lachlan’s smile popped into my head, but I threw that thought out right away. “I just want to try the traveling thing first. I might hate it. I mean, until these past few months, I’d lived in Boston my whole life.”
“You should do it,” he assured me. “You’ll regret it otherwise. Don’t ever have regrets in life, Robyn. I don’t want them for you.”
A knock at the door halted my answer, and I craned my neck as Lachlan strode into Mac’s office.
He took us in, his eyes glancing from me to Mac and then to the half-eaten sandwich in my hand. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, a little disgruntled, “You’ve already eaten.”
“Kind of.”
“Give the rest to Mac,” he ordered.
I raised an eyebrow. “This is a Morag sandwich.”