Shopping for a Booty Call (Shopping for a Highlander)

Getting a 3:00 a.m. booty call from one of Scotland’s hottest footballers is every woman’s dream, right?

No.

It’s my worst nightmare.

My sister’s marrying a billionaire. I’m a bridesmaid, and the groom’s Scottish cousin, Hamish, is a groomsman. We’re paired together in the ceremony, and the man is so full of himself, he’s bulging at the seams.

Biceps bulging. Thigh muscles bulging. Everything bulging…

Overflowing with charm and oozing animal attraction, Hamish is irresistible sunshine.

And he knows it.

But I’m not looking or admiring, because once this wedding is over, he goes back to Scotland and does his cute little job, where he runs around...

Getting a 3:00 a.m. booty call from one of Scotland’s hottest footballers is every woman’s dream, right?

No.

It’s my worst nightmare.

My sister’s marrying a billionaire. I’m a bridesmaid, and the groom’s Scottish cousin, Hamish, is a groomsman. We’re paired together in the ceremony, and the man is so full of himself, he’s bulging at the seams.

Biceps bulging. Thigh muscles bulging. Everything bulging…

Overflowing with charm and oozing animal attraction, Hamish is irresistible sunshine.

And he knows it.

But I’m not looking or admiring, because once this wedding is over, he goes back to Scotland and does his cute little job, where he runs around with a bunch of other grown men who all get paid obscene amounts of money to chase a ball around on grass. And I can get on with my life and my goals.

That call, though.

That call changed everything.

How can I hate someone and want them so desperately?

Because it’s him. That’s why.