Page 18 of Crazy About Jill (Highland Berserkers #1)

CHAPTER 18

T he kitchen was a flurry of activity as Jill prepared dinner, the sweet aroma of brownie mix filling the room. She'd opted for store-bought potato salad, pushing aside a twinge of guilt. Part of her had wanted to impress Alasdair with her culinary skills, but the thought of slaving over a hot stove while everyone else enjoyed the pond had been too much.

She glanced out the window toward the distant tree line where the pond lay hidden, a pang of envy tightening her chest. While the men had been splashing and cooling off in the June heat, she'd been stuck inside prepping dinner. Her father's protective instincts were sweet but sometimes suffocating.

"Left holding the fort and serving up frozen patties and supermarket sides," she muttered to herself with a self-deprecating smile.

As she arranged condiments on a tray, Jill caught herself wondering about Alasdair at the pond. The academic part of her mind that had studied medieval warriors suddenly felt hopelessly unprepared for the reality of the man himself. A momentary worry about the Brollachan flitted through her mind—they were all vulnerable while spread out across the property—but she pushed it aside. They deserved one peaceful evening.

The back door swung open, bringing a burst of laughter and the scent of sun-warmed skin. "Dinner almost ready?" Joe asked as the twins herded the time travelers towards the grill on the back patio, their voices overlapping in excited chatter about the "sacred art of grilling."

"Move over, sis," Will said, nudging her aside to reach for the platter of raw patties. "Time to show these guys how real men cook meat in the twenty-first century."

"Because fire and meat is such a revolutionary concept they couldn't possibly comprehend," Jill replied dryly, but handed over the platter.

Jill caught Alasdair's gaze as she stepped outside, noting the way his damp hair curled at the nape of his neck. He offered a small nod, the ghost of a grin playing at his lips, and her heart did a ridiculous little flip that caught her completely off guard.

"Was the pond nice?" she couldn't help asking, trying to keep her tone casual.

"Aye, 'twas refreshing," he said, then added, "Though it would have been more pleasant had our guide joined us."

His words sent a flutter through her stomach that had no business being there. Was he actually disappointed she hadn't come along? She suddenly wished she'd insisted on going, regardless of what her father wanted.

She set paper plates on the picnic table, intensely aware of Alasdair's presence just a few feet away. What was it about this man that had her so flustered? She'd dated plenty of men before—intelligent, accomplished academics with impressive credentials. None had affected her this way.

"Need a hand?" Alasdair's deep voice startled her, and she nearly dropped the stack of cups she was holding.

"Could you bring out the drinks? They're in the fridge—er, the big cold box in the kitchen."

Alasdair nodded. "Fridge," he repeated carefully. "Aye, I remember."

His accent wrapped around the simple words like warm honey. Somehow, the combination of that accent and the modern vocabulary he was quickly adopting was utterly charming.

"You're staring," Joe whispered as he passed, a knowing grin on his face.

"I was not," Jill hissed back. "Just...observing. Professional interest."

"Yeah, I'm sure your dissertation was all about how ninth-century warriors look in wet t-shirts," he teased before ducking away from her swatting hand.

Soon they were all gathered around the patio table. Jill noticed how Alasdair surveyed the seating arrangement, his eyes finding her before he deliberately took the empty chair beside her. The intentional choice wasn't lost on her—with five other spots available, he'd chosen to be near her. The simple gesture sent a rush of happiness through her chest.

"Alright, gentlemen," Will announced from the grill, wielding a spatula like a scepter, "behold the miracle of propane and modern seasonings!"

Tavish leaned toward Macrath. "I still dinnae understand why they're so proud of cooking meat over fire. We've been doing that since before we could speak."

Jill suppressed a smile, catching Alasdair's eye. He seemed equally amused by his brothers' commentary.

The air filled with the scent of grilled meat and excited chatter.

"So you enjoyed the swim?" she asked Alasdair.

Alasdair's face lit up. "It was wonderful. In my time, swimming was rarely for pleasure. Your pond is like something from a laird's estate."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," she replied, trying not to sound wistful. "It's one of my favorite spots on the property, especially in early summer when the water lilies start to bloom."

When she asked about his childhood, a shadow passed over his face. "Perhaps a conversation for another time," he said softly.

Jill felt the sting of rejection but nodded in understanding. "I didn't mean to pry. Professional hazard."

Alasdair's expression softened. "Ye dinnae pry. It's just...some memories don't make good dinner conversation."

The gentle way he deflected the question told her more about his past than words might have. She found herself wondering what shadows lurked in his history, what hardships had shaped the man sitting beside her.

As they ate from the veggie tray, Jill couldn't help but grin at the way Alasdair approached each new food with cautious curiosity. He sniffed ranch dressing suspiciously before tasting it, his brows rose.

"This white sauce is...interesting."

"Just wait until you try the mustard," she teased.

"Burgers are up!" William announced and brought a platter over.

Jill stood up and moved around the table, suddenly enjoying her role as culinary guide. "Okay, everyone, burger-building 101," she announced, grabbing a paper plate. "Start with the bottom bun, add a little ketchup or mustard—not too much, Fergus!" She laughed as the warrior enthusiastically squirted a mountain of yellow mustard onto his bun.

"Then patty, cheese if you want it to melt a bit, lettuce, tomato, onion if you're brave, and finally the top bun." She demonstrated with quick, practiced movements, creating a picture-perfect burger.

Cillian studied her creation with the intensity of a scholar. "The architecture is quite ingenious," he observed earnestly.

"Not architecture, brother," Macrath corrected, "it's...what did ye call it, Jill? A sandwich?"

"Exactly," she nodded, enjoying their sincere interest in something so mundane. "Though burgers are a special kind of sandwich."

She helped Alasdair build a creation with cheese, lettuce, and tomato.

As her shoulder brushed against his while arranging the toppings, she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer evening. Alasdair seemed to feel it too, his eyes meeting hers for a brief, charged moment.

His expression of pure delight when he tasted it was so endearing that Jill had to look away, afraid her face might betray just how appealing she found him.

"I've never tasted such flavors," he said, examining the burger with newfound respect. "In my time, meat was simply roasted or boiled with whatever herbs could be gathered."

"Modern food science," Jill explained. "Though honestly, a good herb-roasted meat can be just as delicious."

When Alasdair's arm brushed against hers as he reached for more ketchup, Jill felt a jolt of electricity. Their gaze met, and for a moment, the bustling dinner faded away.

"I'm glad ye're here," he said softly, the words clearly meant only for her. "To help us understand this new world."

The way he looked at her—as though she were the miraculous one, not the time travel or modern conveniences—left her momentarily speechless. No one had ever looked at her quite that way before—with such genuine appreciation and respect.

In that instant, Jill knew that whatever was growing between them—this tentative connection bridging centuries—was something she couldn't ignore. It was ridiculous, of course. He was from a completely different time. And yet, when he looked at her like that...

Jill found herself both exhilarated and terrified by the possibilities. She hadn't expected to find herself playing guide to six medieval warriors—and certainly hadn't expected to be so drawn to their leader.

One thing was certain: life on the ranch would never be the same again.