Chapter 2Dawson had needed to be alone. He did well with people, had always been called a team player, but after a year of being stuffed in the International Space Station, never being more than an arm’s length away from another human being, he’d had enough. He’d hugged all his family and accepted the offer from the father of a coworker to spend Christmas hidden in the Scottish Highlands in a real castle.
None of Dawson’s plans had involved a mostly naked man in a kilt glowering at him. A very handsome, very growly man, with shaggy dark hair and scruff that was nearly a beard.
Oh cripes, he was staring. “Hi,” he said, waving a hand and smiling. “I’m Dawson Clark, you must be the caretaker. Mr. Sanderson told me you’d be around. I’ve got a letter from him.”
“Why didn’t he send an email?”
