Page 4 of One Night in Glasgow (The Scottish Billionaires #15)

Danny winced. “Okay, fair point. But come on, that whole mess with Scarlett was different. She was a freakin’ movie star, man. Of course, the press was gonna be all over that. Here? You’re simply another twenty-nine-year old american tourist. No pressure, no expectations. Just... fun.”

I sighed, taking a long pull from my beer. “Geez, Danny. I’m not really looking for a hookup.”

“Who said anything about a hookup?” Danny said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, maybe talk to someone. Flirt a little. Remember what that feels like without the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

I was about to argue when something caught my eye.

Or rather, someone. A flash of vibrant red hair at the end of the bar.

The woman it belonged to stood out like a sore thumb, her designer clothes a stark contrast to the casual vibe of the pub.

She looked… impatient. Anxious, even, as she checked the time on her phone again.

Danny followed my gaze and let out a low whistle. “Well, hello. She looks a little worried. Better go rescue her, Sean.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know, man...” She looked at her phone again, and I saw her expression fall, a flash of clear annoyance and disappointment crossing her face. She defiantly knocked down half of her drink and started gathering her purse as if to leave.

“And… looks like she’s been stood up,” Danny murmured, nudging me hard. “She’s about to bolt. It’s now or never, Romeo. Go work your magic before she disappears.”

The urgency hit me. He was right. I couldn’t just stand here staring. I took a quick breath to steady my nerves and made my way toward the redhead just as she was sliding off her barstool.

"Excuse me," I started, hoping my voice sounded smoother than I felt.

She paused, turning to me with an unreadable expression.

“Pardon me if I’m being too forward," I said, giving her my most charming smile. "But I'm the president of a support group for people who've been recently stood up by absolute fools. It looks like you might be our newest member, and I feel it's my duty to buy you a welcome drink."

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she downed the rest of her drink, her bright blue eyes appraising me over the rim of her glass. The skeptical smirk was still there, but now it was joined by a flicker of genuine surprise.

"Are you a mind reader, or just dangerously observant?" she asked, her Scottish accent captivating. Her voice was laced with a cool amusement that did things to my insides.

I chuckled. "I'm a student of human nature."

“Is that what you call it?” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “And you’re the president of this club for the recently wronged? What are your qualifications, exactly? Are you a fool, or a person with excellent taste?”

I leaned against the bar, my grin widening. “Let's just say my primary qualification is a very good eye for spotting people who are about to make my night a lot more interesting.” Now, about that welcome drink? It’s a mandatory part of the intake process.”

“Is it now?” she replied, her smile turning mischievous. “Alright, Mr. President. But I should warn you, I’m not easily impressed.” She extended a hand, her touch surprisingly delicate. “Beth.”

I shook it, the brief contact sending a spark straight up my arm. “Sean.” I already had the bartender’s attention. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” I turned to the bartender. “Whatever the lady with the dangerously high wit is having, and a whisky for me.”

Her laugh was real this time, deep and musical, and it ignited something inside me. “So, Mr. President,” she said, leaning against the bar. “Besides saving damsels from their disappointing evenings, what else brings you to this fine establishment?”

“I’m in town for business, boring as it sounds,” I said, keeping it vague.

“But my associate seems to think a thorough survey of Glasgow’s finest pubs was a vital part of our cultural research.

” I tilted my head, my gaze taking in her impeccably tailored dress.

“What about you? You don’t exactly look like a regular here. ”

A wry, almost conspiratorial smile touched her lips. “I was supposed to be meeting someone,” she said, a flash of the earlier annoyance in her eyes. “An old friend.”

“Boyfriend?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“God, no. Nothing like that,” she laughed. “But it seems he’s just cancelled on me. So now… I’m just slumming it. His loss is your win, I suppose.”

“I’ll definitely take the win,” I said, my voice softening slightly. “Everyone needs to escape sometimes. ”

Something flashed in her eyes, a flicker of dark humor before it was gone. She took a slow sip of her drink, a smile playing on her lips. “Escape? This isn't an escape. This is just a strategic relocation between gilded cages. The drinks are better in this one, though.”

I laughed, and the sound was so real it startled me.

It wasn't the measured, public laugh I performed on stage; it felt rusty, like something I hadn't used in years.

With her, the usual armor I wore just...

dissolved. I wasn't the brand or the cautionary tale.

I was just a man in a pub, going toe-to-toe with a beautiful, sharp-witted woman, and the relief of it was more intoxicating than any whisky.

Beth leaned in closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what’s your deal? Are you some kind of smooth-talking businessman here to charm us poor Scottish lassies?”

I laughed. “No. Not a businessman, but you’re not that far off the mark. I’m an author and a motivational speaker.”

Her expression shifted, curiosity piquing. “Oh really? Well then, motivate me.” She crossed her arms, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Alright, challenge accepted,” I grinned, clearing my throat dramatically. “Beth, you are a unique and beautiful snowflake. Your energy could power a small city, and your smile melt the ice caps… which, given climate change, might not be the best idea, but you get my point.”

She burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh my God, that was absolutely terrible! Do people actually pay you for this?”

I clutched my chest in mock offense. “I’m very successful, believe me. I once motivated a sloth to move slightly faster than usual. ”

“Impressive,” she nodded sagely. “I bet that sloth is now the CEO of a company on Wall Street.”

“Nah, last I heard, he was still hanging around,” I quipped, earning another laugh.

Her eyes danced with each smile, and she drifted closer as we talked. The attraction was obvious, impossible to ignore.

“So, Beth,” I said, leaning in a little closer. “We’ve established your friend is an idiot with a broken watch. But what’s the rest of your story? What does a sophisticated woman like you do when she’s not being stood up in a pub?”

She sighed dramatically. “Oh, you know, just trying to escape the pressures of high society. All those fancy galas and champagne fountains can get so tiresome.”

“Indeed. I couldn’t agree more,” I said, and lifted my drink in a toast.

The night stretched on, our teasing turning spicier with each round. Beth’s fingers lingered on my biceps every time she cracked up at my bullshit. I kept inching closer, straining to catch her words over the drunken roar of the pub crowd.

“Well, Ms. High Society,” I said, my voice low and teasing in her ear, “I’m starting to think you might actually be enjoying my company.”

She feigned shock. “What? Enjoying the company of an American? Perish the thought. My ancestors would roll over in their graves.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that,” I grinned. “Perhaps we should get out of here before causing a ghostly uprising.”

Beth’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Oh? And where would you suggest we go?”

I leaned in close, my breath tickling her ear. “Well, I do have a pretty fancy suite back at my hotel. The view is spectacular. ”

“Is that so?” she said, her fingers tracing patterns on my arm. “And what exactly would we do in this fancy suite of yours?”

My heart rate picked up. “Well, I could give you a private motivational session. Show you my, uh, PowerPoint presentation.”

A loud snort of laughter escaped her, a sound she immediately tried to stifle by covering her mouth with her hand. “PowerPoint? Good God, McCrae, are you trying to seduce me or put me to sleep?”

I joined in her laughter, unable to resist. “Hey, my slide transitions are very impressive.”

“Oh, I bet.” Beth bit her lip, considering. “Well, I suppose I could critique your presentation skills. For professional reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” I nodded seriously. “Purely professional.”

I spotted Danny across the room, deep in conversation with a brunette. I made my way over and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, a question in his eyes.

“Hey, man,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m heading back to the suite with Beth.”

Danny’s eyes widened for a second before a huge, knowing grin split his face. “Attaboy!” he crowed, slapping me on the back with enough force to make me stumble. “Finally putting that silver tongue to good use!”

I shot him a look, trying to convey “keep your voice down,” but it was useless.

“Don’t worry about me, man,” Danny said, leaning in with a conspiratorial wink and glancing back at his two new friends.

“I’m in the middle of some very delicate international negotiations here.

Moira and Kirsty are best mates, and honestly, it's a real problem. I can’t decide which one I like more.

I might just have to call it a tie.” He winked again.

“Just, you know later… try to keep the passionate declarations of love to a dull roar. Some of us need our beauty sleep for our own ‘cultural exchanges’ tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Noted. See you in the morning, dude.”

“Have fun, you crazy kids!” he called after me as I turned to go, earning us a few curious looks. I just gave him a final wave and went to find Beth.

This was way out of character for me. But seeing her playful expression and the way she nibbled her lip, I realized I didn’t give a fuck.

Tonight, I’d shed my usual self. No crushing expectations or pressure to be flawless. Simply... existing in the moment.

“You good to go?” Beth asked, her voice husky and inviting.

I took her hand and nodded. “After you.”

Beth wrapped a scarf around her head, attaching oversized sunglasses that obscured half her face. She grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers, and yanked me out into the frigid night. The cold air cleared some of the booze fog from my brain as we stumbled our drunk asses down the cobblestone street.

“So, where’s this fancy-pants hotel of yours?” Beth said, her voice dripping with innuendo.

I pulled her close. “You sure you can handle a red-blooded Scottish American, sweetheart?”

“Oh honey, I’m not worried about me. It’s you who should be scared.”