Page 42 of Love Bomb

Rona looked at Conall like he was a slow child.

“Girls,” she said. “They’ll leave for girls.”

“Oh,” his brothers said in awe.

Bain shook his head at them. If his brain hadn’t been short-circuited by Rona’s weird effect on him, he’d have totally thought of the girls plan. When he was a teen, he’d have followed a flirtatious girl anywhere.

“Just look at Bain over there,” Rona said, reading his mind again. “Back in the day, he’d have left his post in a second if a teenage girl walked by.”

He glared at her. She smiled brightly, as if challenging him to deny it. Annoyingly, he couldn’t.

“Good,” Darach said before Bain could think of something cutting to say. “We have a plan to get rid of the night watch. All we need now, is for Rona and Bain to scope the place out, to get an idea of how much explosive is needed and where best to place it.”

“Wait,” Bain said. “There’s no need for Rona to come with me. I can do this on my own.”

Darach gestured to the TV screen, using a tiny laser pointer. “I have you both down for this task.”

“I know,” Bain said. “But it doesn’t take two.”

“Yes, it does,” Darach said. As usual, he was touchy when his planning was questioned. “You’ll look strange going there on your own. At least if Rona is there, she can make a fuss over wanting to see her folly, and you can act like you’re trying to keep her out of trouble.”

Well, hell, that made sense.

“Don’t worry,” Rona said. “You’ll be safe with me. I promise to keep my lips to myself.”

Bain pinched the bridge of his nose. He should never have given in and offered to blow up the folly. Darach was right. When it came to Rona, he was a big softie.

It was pathetic.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bain was in a mood and Rona was having none of it. If he wanted to huff over one insignificant kiss, that was up to him. She didn’t have to act like a child just because he did.

“I love it when people keep their Christmas trees up for months,” she said as they drove through town to the folly. “Makes winter seem less dreary, you know?”

Bain grunted.

The temperature had dropped again and the snow was turning to ice. The road crews were out salting the roads and pavements, and the local council had organized volunteers to shovel driveways. When you lived a couple of hours, over winding snow-covered roads, from the nearest hospital preventing broken bones was a high priority in winter.

“There’s a lot of snow for the end of January,” she pointed out. “At this rate, it will still be falling come May.”

Another grunt.

“After we check out the folly,” she said, “do you want to grab some dinner at the pub?”

“I’m good,” he said. Whatever the heck that meant.

They turned into the parking area behind the Presbyterian church and took the narrow road to the folly. Sure enough, there was a blue dome tent set up beside the monument. It shone like a beacon in the night, and looked decidedly out of place next to the old stone structure.

“We should have brought snacks for the guards,” Rona said after they’d climbed out of Bain’s truck.

“The historical society is taking care of their food,” he said in the same monotone he’d been using since they left his house.

She clenched her teeth, swallowed her anger, and smiled brightly. “I’m sure they would have appreciated some hot chips.”

All she got in return was another grunt.

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his sheepskin jacket and hunched over against the cold. Or maybe against her.