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Is she blushing? I like that. The dusting of pink on her cheeks is becoming.
"Let me have a look at your ankle," I say, because I'm desperate to keep her near me, "to make sure I haven't wounded you grievously."
"I'm fine, really," she says. Calli studies me for a moment, then seems to realize the futility of trying to make me go away. She shuffles across the threshold. "See? I can walk all by my itty-bitty self."
"You aren't itty-bitty." I can't resist raking my gaze over her from head to toe one more time, paying special attention to her breasts and lips before I look into her eyes again. "You're a full-grown woman with soft, inviting curves in all the right places."
"Thank you for helping me. And I'm really sorry I thought you were a stripper."
I shrug. "I suppose it's a compliment. My offer to buy you a drink after the party is still open, even if you want to sip apple juice."
"I'll probably be too tired later, but I appreciate the offer."
"Come find me if you change your mind." I take her hand and kiss it one last time. "Till we meet again, Calli."
Though I don't want to leave her, I realize I have no choice. She has a party to attend, one that involves paper penises and a stripper. What else can I do? I stride down the hallway and out the swinging doors.
Somehow, I need to convince that lass to date me.
*****
I stand at the bar, sipping a glass of whisky, though it's the American variety instead of the Scottish sort. For the past fifteen minutes, I've waited here, hoping Calli will find me. Maybe I had come to this club to find a wife, or at least a girlfriend, but I don't want to do that anymore. Not unless the woman I marry or date is Calli. I don't even know her surname, but I want her like I've never wanted any other lass.
Several women have approached me, and although they were bonnie, I couldn't muster any desire for them.
My mobile chimes, telling me I have a new text. When I check, I see it's Lachlan the lying ersehole.
How goes it?he wants to know.
Bloody brilliant. I have a fiancée already.
Lying cacan.
He's calling me a wee shit? And a liar? I type,Lachie "Every Night is Kilt Night" MacTaggart shouldn't criticize.
Don't get in too much trouble.
Why do my brothers insist on treating me like a bairn? They've both got cabers up their erses. So I tell Lachlan,Go shag your wife.He replies with an emoji of a devil face, though I have no ruddy idea what that means. Stuffing the mobile in my pocket, I scan the crowd inside this club and frown at my rubbish luck. The only woman I want just walked away from me. None of the scantily dressed lasses here make me want to do anything other than go home.
Aye, running home with my tail between my legs would make Lachie and Rory smile with smug satisfaction. Aidan screws up again.
Still frowning, I survey the club's patrons again—and I see Calli.
When our gazes intersect, I can't stop my mouth from curving into a grin. She smiles at me too, so brightly that I swear I light up from the inside out. Why does she affect me this way? I don't know, and I don't care. Examining every minute detail of everything I do is not my style. So I saunter toward Calli, wondering how long it might take for me to convince her to marry me. I should probably start with getting to know her, but I've never liked waiting for anything.
Slow down, ye eejit. Donnae scare her away.
Am I an idiot? Possibly. Then again, maybe I'm just very focused on my goal.
I stop inches away from Calli and slant my head down toward hers. "This is a lovely surprise. Thought I wouldn't see you again."
"Here I am."
"Aye." Settling my hands on her upper arms, I slide them down to her elbows. "I'd love to spend more time with you."
"I'd like that too."
"What about a private booth?" I point down the short hallway that leads to curtained booths. "I promise to take no liberties without your express consent. Will you come with me?"
