Good Girl Gone Plaid(62)
“Yes, of course we will. We’ll cheer for all the McLaughlins.” She gave a half-smile. “I mean, that’s half of who Emily is, right? Scotland is in her blood.”
“Aye.”
The intimacy of the conversation just made him more aware of her. Sarah. His lover then and now. The mother of his child. She looked so small and fragile wearing his shirt. So absolutely right.
I want her back.
The realization settled with a heavy finality. Not just for a few nights in bed, but on a forever basis.
The thought alone was staggering and the implications overwhelming. But he didn’t run from them. Instead he reached out and cupped her upper arm, turning her toward him again.
“I know I completely blew that attempt at proposing, but my intentions were good. Just promise me you’ll consider it, all right?”
She didn’t answer all right, and he sensed she was genuinely surprised.
“Sarah?”
Finally she gave a small nod. “Okay, but—”
Ian brushed his mouth over hers to steal away whatever protest she was trying to come up with.
Again she didn’t pull away, and again it gave him hope. He tasted her deeply and thoroughly, until his body began to stir and his heart beat harder.
It was just another small taste, but he wanted it to tide him over until they had another night together. Because there would be another night, and soon.
He slowed the kiss, brushing his lips over hers one last time before he had to take her home. It wasn’t their parents setting a curfew nowadays, but their daughter, Emily, who needed her mother.
“Think about it,” he murmured against her lips. “Promise.”
With a soft sigh, she promised again.
Chapter Sixteen
“This is going to be so cool.”
Sarah lifted her gaze to glance at Emily in the rearview. Her daughter was twisting again in her seat, obviously excited as she stared out the window at the passing trees.
“What’s this thing we’re going to called again?”
“The Highland Games.”
“Awesome. Is it like the Hunger Games?”
Sarah laughed at the mention of the popular book-series-turned-movies that so many people loved.
“No, because then we’d have a bunch of men in skirts trying to kill each other.”
Her daughter giggled. “Do the boys really wear those skirts?”
“Yes, some of them do. And I was kidding, they’re not called skirts. They’re called kilts.”
“Have you been to the Highland Games, Mom?”
“Yes, but not for a long time. Since before you were born.”
And now she was going again. Anxiety was a hardened knot lying in her belly. While her mom and Emily had devoured the banana pancakes and slices of thick bacon Sarah had made, she’d barely touched her food.
A couple bites of pancakes and three cups of coffee meant she was running on food fumes and a lot of caffeine to make the hour drive to Bellingham.
After Sarah had given her mom the update about today, Ana had decided to skip the Games and planned to spend a few days with an old friend who lived on the island.
“So, Em, what do you think of Ian?”
“The man from yesterday?” Emily shrugged. “He was nice, but not very good at math.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told him I’d be a teenager in three years, and he thought I should’ve said five years. I mean, duh. The difference between thirteen and ten is totally three, not five.”
Sarah stared at the road and frowned. Ian wasn’t stupid, of course he knew how to subtract.
It clicked. He’d just been subtracting the wrong years. She’d told him Emily was eight. And if Emily made some kind of countdown to being a teenager comment—which she was becoming famous for—that’s probably when he’d figured it out.
“I like Kenzie too. She let me get two scoops of ice cream, Mom. Chocolate peanut butter and bubble gum.”
“Sounds…delicious.” Or not. “We’re going to spend some time with all the McLaughlins today, Em.”
“There’s more of them here? Cool.”
Oh just two uncles, one aunt, and your dad. Which by the end of the day Emily would know about them all.
Would she be upset? Be excited? Go all tween-drama on her? Or would Sarah be the only one a complete mess after the conversation?
When they were parked and walking toward the entrance to the games, her heart skipped a bit faster.
“Do you hear that?” Emily exclaimed, quickening her pace. “That’s bagpipes, right?”
“Yes. Sounds like they’re warming up.”
Her phone buzzed in her purse and she dug it out to find a text from Ian.
I paid admission for you and Emily. Just give the man at the gate your names. I’ll be at the caber toss when you get inside.