Whiskey and Scotch

Chapter 2

The newly formed couples began to disperse around the lawn to chat amongst themselves. Bobby turned to look at me.

"Beanbags?"

"Sure," I smiled, and he put his hand on the small of my back as he led me to the poolside where the brightly coloured beanbags were. I sat down on the one he indicated, then watched him as he stacked a couple beanbags for himself and tried to make himself comfortable. I took the opportunity to get a closer look at him. He had put on a pair of reflective sunglasses so I couldn't make out the colour of his eyes, but the rest of his features were well-defined. Freckles covered his nose and cheeks and continued onto his chest and broad shoulders.

Huh. He's not the type that catches the eye right away – although that could've also been the cheesy joke he started off with and the fact that he came out after four other ridiculously hot guys – but he's low-key kinda gorgeous. Not obviously ripped like the other guys, but there's definitely something there.

Bobby finally found a comfortable position on his beanbag and caught me examining him.

"If you take a picture, it'll last longer."

I blushed, and shifted on my beanbag. "So... why'd you pick me?"

"Um, did you look in the mirror today? Because you're absolutely gorgeous, and that smirk I caught earlier shows me you've got a sense of humour. And it's like I said in my speech... if I didn't pick you today, who knows if I'd get another chance? The competition in here is going to be fierce... for both of us. I hope you don't mind that I picked you... you caught my eye right away, and I didn't want to risk you not stepping forward so I figured I'd just go with my gut."

"Well to be completely honest, I probably wouldn't have stepped forward... but I don't mind at all that you picked me. It's part of the game, right? I'm willing to get to know you, but I also want to get to know everyone else."

He nodded and leaned back. "That's fair. Alright, you want to get to know me? Ask me anything!"

I laughed. "Okay, well I can tell by your accent that you're Scottish. What part are you from, and what do you do?"

"Aye, I'm from Glasgow, and I'm a hospital caterer. At least until I can afford to open my own bakery. Baking is my real passion."

"Really? I'd love to know how you got into baking. I haven't met very many single guys who know their way around a kitchen, let alone being passionate about it."

"Great! Well, when I was young, I found this old cooking book back in the library that was filled with these bizarre Victorian recipes. I'm talking blocks of meat, towers of coloured jelly, cakes with all sorts of surprises baked into them. It was crazy. All because the richer Victorians liked to put on a show with their food at fancy dinners. I borrowed the book and my mum helped me make some of them. They were awful to eat," he shook his head and made a disgusted face, "but it showed me that food didn't have to be dull, or just functional. As I got older I became obsessed with tracking more of these recipes down, and I would try to figure out a way to make them taste good. So I like to put a little flair into everything I bake - why settle for boring? It's a strange way to get into baking. I still bake surprises into things. All edible, though."

"That's so neat! I love that. I hope you get a chance to bake in the villa, I'd love to try something. If you want to, that is."

He grinned. "I'd be happy to make you something. Alright, ask me something else, and then it's my turn to put you in the hot seat."

"Okay, what's your type?"

"She's sitting right in front of me..." he said with a smirk.

"Smooth one!" I said, and stretched out my leg to give him a light kick in the shin.