A Scot for Christmas - Victoria Pinder Page 0,2

days ago, since her job had given her the time off. Stephanie was who knew where with her billionaire husband that week, and Charlotte was flying in from her castle in Scotland.

Scotland had been nice when I’d visited. Charlotte’s neighbor, Harris, was hilarious and sexy in that kilt of his.

I turned the key in my old clunker, but the car didn’t start. My heart pounded, and I closed my eyes. I needed to go. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and turned the key. “Come on, car.” The motor hummed. Yes. I stroked my steering wheel as if my car were a pet and said, “Good girl. Let’s go.”

Once I got on the road, I found a station with Christmas music. I sang along and tried to relax. All would be well.

I left London and found the roads to Bath. My body even bounced to the cheerful songs.

Everything would be okay. I needed to believe that.

No one was on the roads, so I made good time. Then my car stopped.

Damn.

I’d checked the gas, so that wasn’t it.

I cringed. It was turning out to be a horrible day. My eyes misted, and I screamed, but no one could hear me. Then I tried to turn the car on again. “Don’t die on me.”

Nothing. I swallowed and wished for a sign that all would be okay, then I reached for my phone, and the universe laughed at me as white flakes fell on my car. I yelled more, then I said, “And it snows!”

I wasn’t sure what all the bad luck meant, but it was way too much.

I needed help. I picked up my phone and checked my email instead of calling for a car. “An interview… in Scotland!”

I yelped my relief and replied with an acceptance. If I made it to Bath, then I would hitch a ride with Charlotte and be there for the interview.

My heart raced. If I got a job there, I would see Harris again. He easily won the sexiest-man-I’d-ever-met award.

I took a breather and tried my key again as lights of another car on the road blinked in the distance. I swallowed and said, “I need to get to this tea now.”

Again, the car refused to start. Damn.

I sighed then dialed for help. The headlights of the car behind me were getting close, so I put my hand out to wave the person around me. The car service person answered.

I gave them my location and asked, “How long for a tow truck?”

“Three hours,” he said.

Damn. My friends would be sleeping if I ever made it to Bath. And the repairs would take pretty much every cent I didn’t have. I choked as I said, “I—”

A knock on my window made me jump. I looked into Harris's blue eyes and rolled my window down.

“Tell them your car will be here waiting for them, but you’re coming with me.”

I put my hand over the speaker and shook my head. “I can’t do that, Harris. What are you even doing here?”

“It’s cold, lassie, and I was in London for business.” He shook his head at me and put his hand into my car. “You can get bossy with me later, but I’m not letting you freeze. So give me the phone.”

I blinked. No one had ever spoken to me like that.

He stood taller and said, “Hello, please pick up the car. The woman is coming with me, but I wanted you to have my number so that we can discuss what needs repairs.”

I gazed down his muscular body and wished he’d worn his kilt, though it was too cold for it. The last thing I needed, though, was a man spending my money without giving me the final say. I yelled, “Don’t! It’s my problem.”

“It’s mine now too.” Into the phone, he said, “So call me with the estimates for the fix.”

Wait. He intends to pay. I opened my car door and jumped out. He’d already hung up.

I crossed my arms and hugged myself, as I wasn’t sure how to argue. “I shouldn’t, Harris.”

He gave me my phone and pointed at his silver Aston Martin. “I’m assuming you’re on your way to Bath.”

I’d not seen him for a while, since a friend’s wedding the previous month. He’d checked on me weekly and said he’d been out of town, but the phone calls had only fed into my fantasies of having a decent guy in my life. I pushed my shoulder-length hair behind my ears. “I was.”

He pressed