Free Some Like it Scottish by Patience Griffin Page A

coffee before placing the mug on the counter.
    Her cheeks felt on fire. “No, that wasn’t an offer.” But Ramsay flustered her in ways he shouldn’t. “I’m only concerned for your well-being.”
    â€œI’m right as rain,” he said. “Be ready to leave in five minutes.”
    She was ready in three but Ramsay was already waiting for her. On the road, she studied her list of potential bachelors. She wondered how she was going to make up for yesterday’s strikeout and the fact that Art MacKay wouldn’t be back in time for Deydie’s deadline for the mandated quilt retreat and Kit’s mixer. Six women would be coming to Scotland, and time was running out. Kit peeked over at Ramsay. Should she ask him to be one of her bachelors? She shook her head.
    Ramsay glanced at her and then his gaze went back to the road. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
    â€œ
Now
you give me a compliment,” she deflected.
    â€œSpill it, lass.”
    â€œI’m going to have to set up more appointments.”
    â€œBut why were you shaking your head at me?” he said.
    â€œNo reason.” She turned back to her window. She wasn’t desperate. Not yet. Ramsay wouldn’t do at all for any of her clients. He was too obstinate. Too arrogant. And perhaps,
too observant
.
    The rest of the trip to their first stop was made in silence as she studied the printout on Davey McBain, the successful whisky-maker and owner of the family’s distillery. When they arrived at the compound, it wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. She’d thought there’d be a large sterile-looking building, but instead there was a group of massive stone cottages, some with beautiful arched windows, others with tall steeples.
    â€œWell, this is impressive.”
    Ramsay only grunted.
    As he parked the SUV, Davey came out to meet them. Kit recognized him from an article in
Forbes
magazine. She’d scored big just getting Davey to meet with her. Looking at him, she couldn’t imagine why he was thirty and still unattached. He was nearly as tall as Ramsay with basically the same build. For a moment her thoughts streaked back to Ramsay lying under the sheet with his essentials barely covered.
    Good grief!
She needed to focus.
    She put her sights back on Davey, cataloging him. He was sporting jeans, a tailored navy shirt—casually untucked—and a pair of dimples to die for.
    When she introduced herself, Ramsay stood close, as if Davey might accost her. In truth, the famous distiller did look at her with interest, which was always flattering from an influential man. But he just didn’t do it for her.
    Ramsay grumbled his greeting.
    â€œI’ve blocked out the rest of the morning and the afternoon for you, Ms. Woodhouse.” Davey glanced down at the wellies in her hand. “I don’t think you’ll need those, but you can bring them along if you like.”
    She was still processing that he would give her so much of his time.
Time that she didn’t have
. Well, if theyleft in the early afternoon, she’d still get in one more appointment today—maybe.
    Ramsay nudged her to answer.
    Kit looked at her feet. “Yes. I was worried I’d ruin my shoes.”
    Davey gave her his dimpled grin. “No worries. Come this way.” He put his hand to her back and guided her to the closest building.
    His touch felt too intimate, but what could she say?
    Kit turned to make sure Ramsay was following. What she saw was her chauffeur glowering at Davey’s hand. Ramsay immediately schooled his features into an expression of indifference.
    Davey was talking and she’d missed part of what he was saying. “Even though I grew up here with whisky making in my blood—my family has been making it for two hundred years—I rarely, if ever, drink it.”
    â€œWhy?” she asked without thinking first.
    Davey stopped