Chapter 3
Branwen did her best not to swear yet again when the doorbell rang a few minutes before she’d expected it to, even though it was exactly when John had said he’d meet her.
She was as ready as she was going to get, sure. She’d finally decided on a black skirt that fit close but made it well past her knees, paired with a burgundy sweater that did wonders for her winter-pale complexion.
She hadn’t had time to shove all her clothes back into the closet or under her bed or maybe into the bathroom, all in case of her fantasies of John deciding to skip the dinner and stay with her instead came true.
No help for it now. She opened the door, then did her best to catch her breath.
John had indeed worn the kilt she’d daydreamed about, and the effect was everything Branwen had imagined a
