The Calum (4 page)

“
Tea would be awesome,
thanks.” She watched him walk to the bar, because nice ass. He
returned quickly with a mug of tea and a pint of ale with a shot of
whiskey on the side, for himself.

Across the room, Hamish
held court. Half of the women around him took up the rhythm of some
ancient dance, pushing their boobs and asses in his direction. He
eyed each bit of flesh like a wolf surveying a herd of hapless
sheep.

Lovie had never seen
anything like it. “Is he for real?”

Duff glanced over. He
shook his head and knocked back the whiskey. “Define
real.”

****

Duff had meant to be
heading home, but when he saw the sexy redhead by the river, his
libido had other ideas. She intrigued him, to say the least. It was
pretty clear that she didn’t want to be there. She’d watched her
friend and Hamish with what Duff thought was jealousy. He was happy
to be wrong. All the girls loved Hamish, but Duff wasn’t about to
complain about having Lovie to himself.

“
So.”

“
So.”

“
Tell me about yourself.”
She sat back as if preparing for a lengthy tale, which he was not
inclined to provide.

“
Not much to know,
really.”

“
Somehow I doubt that.”
She narrowed her eyes, studying him. His jacket lay on the chair
between them. She nodded at it. “For instance, where’d you get
that?”

“
Seriously?”

“
Yeah.”

He thought for a moment.
“Paris. No, Berlin. Won it in a bet.” He smiled as the memory
crystallized. Lovie smiled with him.

“
What, in a game? Like
poker?”

“
Not a game, really, more
of a…”
Dare? Challenge?
“Contest.” A friend didn’t think he could get a
certain brunette back to his hotel room. Best not to share that,
though.

“
Some prize.” She
said.
You have no idea
. “Vintage Lewis, isn’t it?”

Duff smiled. “Aye,
fifty-two Aviakit. You know yer leathers.”

Lovie lowered her big
brown eyes, smiling. “Seems you do too. You travel a
lot?”

“
Yeah. Some.” Duff sat
back and crossed his arms. “What about you? What’s your
story?”

She looked back up. “I
don’t have a story, but you do. So, spill it.”

He ignored the prompt,
hoping she’d take the hint. “Your friend,
she
seems more into this scene
than you are.”

Lovie
shrugged,
the movement
mirrored by her eyebrows. “This isn’t exactly how I hoped to spend
my Christmas vacation.”

“
No?”

“
No.” She didn’t
elaborate, and he didn’t press, wondering what a girl like her
might have to keep to herself. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Yes, he’d checked.

“
So, you said you didn’t
always live here? Where else have you lived?”

“
You know, ye ask a lot of
questions for someone who doesna like to answer them.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I
answer plenty, if they’re the right ones. And you’re eluding the
one I asked you. Are you hiding something?” She smiled
sweetly.

Well now, this wasn’t
going at all the way he’d like. She seemed more interested in
interrogation than
conversation
. No finesse
whatsoever.

He shook his head.
“Americans.”

“
What about Americans?”
Her eyebrow arched sharply.

So he’d hit a nerve.
Interesting. Duff sat back in his seat, wondering how many buttons
he could push.

“
Ye act so entitled.” He
stated, matter-of-factly. “Always stickin’ yer noses where they
don’t belong.”

She sat back, her eyes
narrowing as if she could see through him. “It’s a national
pastime.”

“
Aye, well, I suppose yer
no all bad,” he backtracked, taking a swallow from his pint to
cover. “I mean Bruce Willis is American an’ all.”

“
True.” Her smile didn’t
reach her eyes. She sat watching him, silent as a statue. It was
damned unnerving. He started talking just to break the
silence.

“
I jes’ couldna live there
anymore. Everyone always
wantin’
to know everything about you.”
She smiled and brought her teacup to her plump lips. He was so
fascinated by them that her next question caught him
off-guard.

“
You’ve lived in
America?”

What?
Had he said that? He shifted in his seat. “Aye...well, I’ve
moved around. Glasgow, London, and thereabouts. New York. D.C.
Miami.”

“
I see.” He could
practically hear the wheels turning. “And how did you end up back
in Inverness?”

“
I’m only here for...a
couple of weeks, and then I’ll be off again.” He washed the
half-truth down with another gulp of ale. “Thought it would be a
good time to come back. Revisit
me
roots, and such.”

“
You still have family
here, then?”

“
Are ye writing my
biography or something?” She smiled warmly, and it was a beautiful
sight. It tripped up his defenses. “Aye, me gran still lives
here.”

Sitting there with Lovie
was like being in a confessional. Duff wasn’t sure why he couldn’t
stop telling her things, especially when he got next to nothing
back. Something about her invited trust and that made him nervous.
The only person he trusted was his grandmother. And there were
things that he’d rather not discuss with either of them.

He finished off the
ale.

“
What is it that you do?”
Long slender fingers brushed back her riotous red mane. She really
was a beauty. Fine cheekbones set in a heart-shaped face. Cat-like
eyes framed with lashes so blonde they were almost white. A mouth
just begging to be kissed. “For
money
, I mean.”

Right, she’d asked him a
question.

“
Er, I’m a photographer.”
He shrugged at Lovie’s raised eyebrows. “Sounds more glamorous than
it is, ye ken. Mostly portraits, landscapes, and the
like.”

“
I see.”

Time to resume his own
enquiry. “What about you?”

“
I work for a clothing
designer, but in graphic design.”

“
Do you love
it?”

“
Well, I like it. I worked
hard to get my position.” He was amazed that she answered, even
more so when she continued unprovoked. “Started out as an intern,
put in ridiculous hours and got shit pay in return, but I loved the
idea of getting paid to be creative.” She swirled the spoon around
in her cup, lost in some memory. “Hate the place, though. It’s full
of pretentious Donna Karan wannabes.”

“
I haven’t a clue who that
is, sorry.” Her smile brought out his.

“
A designer. Anyway, love
would be a strong word when it comes to my job.” They sat in
silence for a while, and somehow, he was content to do just that.
It was odd. Normally, at this point, he’d be paying the check and
taking the girl back to his hotel room for some overnight
delight.

“
I thought I’d be a
photographer one day,” she said after
a time
, her eyes on Hamish and the
blonde. “But we can’t all live the dream.”

Duff laughed at that. One
man’s dream could be another’s nightmare. “Dreams aren’t all
they’re cracked up to be.”

He met her eyes, and she
nodded. A grin tugged at her mouth, and he had an overwhelming
desire to kiss her. Just lean across the table and snog her
senseless. “So, uh, what brought you and your friend to
Scotland?”

Lovie choked on her sip of
tea.

Needlepoint

She woke up at four A.M.
And at five A.M. At six, Lovie gave up on the dream of sleep.
Obviously it was going to take more than one late night to rid her
of the jet lag. With her luck, the adjustment wouldn’t kick in
until she was about to go home.

She and Jo had walked back
to the hotel around two A.M., escorted by Hamish and a few of his
drinking buddies. Duff wasn’t among them. Once their little
tête-à-tête was interrupted by another drunken Scot, whose name she
couldn’t remember, he’d called it a night.

It was just as well, since
he’d just asked her why she and Jo had come to Scotland. She almost
told him the truth but decided that it would only make her sound as
delusional as her friend. Of course, the delusion might prove true
if Hamish turned out to be exactly what Jo had set out to
find.

Surprisingly, he’d only
kissed Jo on the cheek before saying goodnight in the hotel lobby.
Lovie then helped her tipsy, besotted friend up to their room where
she promptly passed out - coat and all - with a big smile on her
face. No doubt dreams of her real-life Calum in her
head.

Sometime during the night,
Jo must have shed the coat and crawled under the covers, where she
was still. Snoring like the world’s smallest buzz saw. Nice for
some.

Lovie threw on some sweats
and went in search of coffee. After scoring a fresh pot, two mugs
and a basket of baked goods, she re-entered the room as quietly as
she could. Pouring herself a cup, she sat in the window and watched
the city come to life. In the distance, a clock struck seven. They
needed to get a move on if they were going to make the tour
bus.

“
Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Lovie nudged Jo’s inert form with her foot. “We’re going to be
late.”

A low moan sounded from
the wrong end of the bed.

What the heck?

Lovie studied the
comforter-covered lumps. She’d just toed her best friend in the
face. Oops.

“
It’s too early.” The
lumps rearranged themselves and emitted a scratchy moan.

“
You’re the one who
insisted on the earliest tour.” Lovie laughed as a bird’s nest of
honey-blonde hair emerged from the cocoon.

“
Ugh.” Jo swiped at the
unruly strands, her eyes half-closed. “Do I smell
coffee?”

Lovie handed her a cup.
One milk, two sugars.

“
Mmm, you’re too good to
me.”

“
Don’t I know it.” Lovie
jumped up and went to her suitcase. “I’ll hop in the shower first.
Give you time to wake up.”

“
That’ll be a long ass
shower.”

“
Ten minutes tops, so,
guzzle guzzle.”

They made the bus with
five minutes to spare. The weather, while not cold for December,
was damp in a way that made you feel like you were soaked to the
bone. Lovie was glad to have the comfort of a tour bus between
stops. The driver kept the heat cranked up, catering to the
international group.

The tour was peppered with
everything from old churches to working castles and well-kept
ruins. Unsurprisingly, Jo had a literary reference for each one
bookmarked on her Kindle. Wandering the ancient sites, Lovie could
well imagine how the romanticized grandeur of such places could
inspire an author. As far as Lovie was concerned, history was a
nice place to visit, but she wouldn’t want to live
there.

“
I was born in the wrong
century.” Jo had been particularly reluctant to leave Cawdor
Castle, enchanted by its fairy tale history and manicured gardens.
She was still daydreaming about life as a medieval princess when
they returned to the hotel. “Just imagine it.”

Lovie snorted, doing just
that. “You wouldn’t last a day without social media.”

“
If I had been born in
seventeen-forty-five, I wouldn’t know what that was, now would
I?”

“
Can’t argue with that
logic.”

Seventeen-forty-five my
ass
. Jo had been checking her phone off
and on all day. They’d just gotten back to their room when she
finally got a text from Hamish. She squealed so loudly that Lovie
thought she might burst a blood vessel.

Still, she couldn’t help
but smile. “Is that The Calum?”

“
Yep.” Jo beamed. “He
wants to take me to lunch. Do you mind?”

Yes.
“No. Not at all.”

“
I hate to leave you on
your own.” Right. But it would likely be a hell of a lot better
than watching those two circle one another like hungry
seals.

“
I’ll be fine. I many go
back for some of those Scotch eggs.”

“
Have a couple for
me.”

****

The crowd at MacKinnon’s
was a little too rowdy for Lovie’s taste. Something about “Man
United!” and “fucking Liverpool!” It was over her head, so the hunt
for Scotch eggs took her into uncharted territory. Downtown
Inverness.

It was tiny, compared to
Philadelphia, but there was still a familiarity to it. According to
a flyer she’d picked up at the bar, there was a Christmas festival
in someplace called Bishops Palace. After a fifteen minute walk,
she entered the historic building.