Page 25 of One Night in Glasgow (The Scottish Billionaires #15)
I studied his face, noting the genuine concern in his eyes. “Is that why you came to New York? To check on me?”
“Uh… since I was coming around these old hunting grounds anyway, why not a little side trip. I never expected to find you, honestly.”
A flutter stirred within me. “You still wanted to see me after I ripped you a new one back in Glasgow?”
“Even after that.” His signature grin returned. “Though I gotta admit, you’re pretty scary when you’re angry.”
I laughed, feeling some of my walls start to crumble. “Well, I am Scottish. We’re known for our tempers.”
“Among other things,” he teased, his eyes twinkling.
We fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, sharing stories about our lives.
Sean told me about growing up in his big, blended family, about his twin brother, Xander, playing soccer in London.
I began to open up about my childhood, the pressure of being a high-society MacLeod, the constant scrutiny.
“God, it’s soul-crushing,” I admitted, my shoulders slumping. “Living under this microscope where every tiny flaw gets dissected. Some days I think that’s exactly why I went so wild… like a big middle finger to their precious image of the perfect MacLeod daughter they want me to be.”
Sean listened intently, his hand still holding mine. “And what do you want, Beth?”
The question caught me off guard. What did I want? The old Beth would have deflected with a joke or a flirty comment. But something about Sean demanded honesty.
“I want to make a difference,” I said slowly. “I want to prove I’m more than just some rich party girl who screws everything up.”
“You already are more than that,” Sean said. “Anyone who can’t see that isn’t looking hard enough. ”
His words warmed something inside me, which was deeply annoying, and I immediately wanted to snuff it out before it could catch fire.
The way he looked at me, like he could see past all my mistakes to something worthwhile underneath.
.. it wasn’t just terrifying and thrilling; it was a tactical assault on the walls I’d so carefully constructed.
“You know,” Sean continued, his voice low and sincere, “Recently, someone gave me some good advice… life’s too short for regrets. Not trying to find you again could have been one of those regrets.”
My breath hitched. Oh, brilliant. He wasn’t just handsome; he was sincere.
That was infinitely more dangerous. The intensity in his eyes sent my pulse into a ridiculously uncool sprint, and the spark between us crackled with an energy that was getting harder to ignore.
A small, foolish part of my brain, the part that clearly had a death wish, wanted to confess how he’d been taking up way too much mental real estate.
Right. Get a fucking grip, MacLeod. I wasn’t ready to go down that particular rabbit hole of feels. Absolutely not.
Instead, I gave his hand a quick squeeze before pulling my own back, needing the distance. “Well, for what it’s worth,” I said, forcing a casual smile, “I’m glad you’re a little bit crazy.”
The moment felt right to pivot, to clear the air on my own terms. “About Glasgow...” I tucked my chin to my chest. “I was horrible to you that last day. The things I said... I was in a spectacularly bad place.” I wasn’t about to tell him about my near-miss with Colter or the full extent of my self-destruction.
“Anyway, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. ”
Sean started to speak, but I held up a hand.
“Let me finish, please.” I wrapped my fingers around my cup, drawing strength from its warmth.
“The truth is, I’d spent years being ‘that girl’…
the wild child, the press’s favorite click-bait.
I’d ma de myself an easy target long before you came along.
The video, the photos... they just confirmed what everyone already thought about me.
” I paused, then met his gaze. “And for any damage it did to your career… I am genuinely sorry. You didn’t deserve that. ”
Sean reached across the table, taking my hand again. “No damage done, in fact Danny’s getting more bookings than ever. But I’m sorry too. I should have been more aware of what you were dealing with.”
“We were both a bit reckless,” I admitted with a small, wry smile.
“Maybe we could try being less reckless this time?”
His eyes locked with mine, sparkling with a hope that felt dangerously appealing. A fresh start? With him? It was a monumentally stupid idea. My brain wasn’t just screaming, Abort mission! It was lighting signal flares and launching life rafts.
“I’d like that,” I heard myself say softly, ignoring all of it.
“A fresh start,” he agreed, squeezing my hand as if sealing a deal I wasn’t entirely sure I’d just made.
“So, what do you think about hanging out this afternoon? We could hit Central Park. It’s the only place in New York where pigeons have their own real estate agents.
Maybe even do one of those cheesy horse-drawn carriage rides? ”
I let out a genuine laugh, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “Cheesy sounds perfect right about now.”
We gathered our things, and as we headed for the exit, Sean’s hand found the small of my back as he held the door open for me. The gesture was casual, comfortable in a way that should have set off all my internal alarms but, for some reason, didn’t.
The summer sun hit my face as we stepped outside. Then I spotted him. A guy with a professional-looking camera across the street. A familiar tightness gripped my chest as memories of Glasgow flooded back.
My steps faltered, and Sean noticed immediately. “Beth? What’s wrong?”
“The photographer,” I whispered.
Sean followed my gaze, then gently turned me to face him. “Hey, look at me. He’s probably just a tourist. New York is crawling with them. Not everyone with a camera is secretly a tabloid git.”
He was right. Of course. But my palms had gone clammy. “Yeah, I know. It’s just...”
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” Sean said quietly.
“No,” I cut him off, straightening my spine. An unexpected surge of defiance shot through me. My life was not going to be dictated by the fear of some wanker with a camera. “No, I want to. I can’t let them rule my life forever, right?”
Sean grinned, that warm, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle. “That’s my girl.”
The casual approval sent a pleasant warmth through me, which was deeply annoying.
The idea of being “his girl” was a complication I absolutely did not need.
It was reckless and stupid. But then, my entire life had been a masterclass in recklessness and stupidity.
What was one more afternoon? For now, I could just be a girl, hanging out with a guy who made me forget, just for a second, how terrifying it was to hope.