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He hadn’t even known her name yet, but something in his chest had shifted. Just a fraction. Just enough to know he’d never forget her.
* * *
The plane rolled to a stop, shaking him from the memory.
Enrique was still rambling about cake, but Ruairidh barely heard him. He could already see Jenn as clearly as if she were standing right there—hands dusted with flour, brows arched, smiling like she didn’t mean to.
“Checks?” Enrique prompted.
“Aye,” Ruairidh said, his voice steady, though his pulse wasn’t.
Now, things weren’t simple. They were messy, complicated, real. And he didn’t care.
He was done waiting.
Chapter 43
Jenn opened the door to Ruairidh’s house.
Her pulse was a jittery, relentless drumbeat. Her fingers tangled together, knuckles whitening as if she could braid the nerves out of herself.
Earlier, he’d come to the counter at the café, kissed her—a quick, devastating brush of lips that stole her breath—and said, “Come to mine. After work.”
Nothing else. What the hell did that mean? Whatever it was, she’d made her decision. She was staying. Actually properly staying on Hellisay.
She’d signed the café lease with Ealasaid that very afternoon, Abigail and Mairead witnessing the moment with whoops loud enough to shake the windows. The yoga girls had popped in one by one for celebratory cake. Jenn had been dizzy with it all—ideas, menus, plans swirling in her head.
But now, standing here with her heart in her throat, all that excitement shrank under the weight of what she might have to face.
“Ru?” she called, trying to sound casual.
“In here,” came his voice, low and steady, from the living room.
Jenn padded down the hallway, every nerve on high alert. Her palms were slick, her stomach gave an odd, swooping flip, like stepping off the edge of a cliff.
Ruairidh was standing at the wide windows, looking out toward Puka’s Beach. The view was dramatic—half the horizon storm-black, clouds rolling like a battlefront, the other half stubbornly blue and sunlit. It looked like two seasons at war, neither willing to yield. A perfect reflection of her feelings. Hope for her future here warring with the dread at what staying might mean for her and Ruairidh.
He turned when she entered, and something in her stalled.
His face—handsome, yes, but shadowed—was unreadable. His shoulders, all that glorious muscle, were taut as if bracing for impact.
“Come here,” he said.
Just that. Low. Firm. A command that sent a current fizzing down her spine.
She hesitated, pulse hammering. Was he about to say goodbye? She wasn’t ready for that. Not even close. But it wouldn’t change her choice. She wasn’t staying because of him. She wasn’t the type to uproot her life for a man—even if this man wasn’t just any man.
Jenn drew in a deep, bracing breath, lifted her chin, and stepped toward him.
“I…” Jenn started, but Ruairidh touched a finger to her lips.
“Shh…”
Then he dipped his head and kissed her.
Slow. Languid. Familiar in a way that made her bones ache. Jenn sighed as her body melted into him. The kiss deepened—tongues tangling, his hands firm on her waist, unyielding. He bent her backwards slightly, as though he’d hold her there forever. There was no rush. No urgency. Just a quiet, burning intensity, as if they were deliberately stretching time.
She didn’t want this to stop. Ever.
