Chapter 23
Iwore jeans, a sweater, and a down vest. I’d packed a dress, but since I’d picked it out with Tara, there was no way I’d wear it, especially if she was coming to the hoachin’ hoolie. My cute boots had good-sized heels, so I wore them for Nick.
The only makeup I’d added, so my eyes would actually show up in a picture, was some tear-proof mascara.
The cry-swelling was gone from my eyes, so I looked my old self.
I wondered how Cian was looking, and cursed.
I couldn’t think about him until I escaped the party or no mascara, no matter how waterproof, would last long.
Promptly at six o’clock, I started down the colorful, plaid-covered staircase. I kept my attention on my feet so I didn’t supply anyone with footage that might go viral—rescued skier breaks neck hours after rescue.
My host was decked out in a kilt and full costume and stood at the foot of the stairs beaming up at me like a proud father.
I figured the fact that I had arrived at the appointed time was enough compensation for my meal.
And if I was the cause of a higher bar tab for his pub, that made up for more than just a night’s stay.
Looked like it was going to be a guilt-free night. Or at least it was until I spotted Nick standing just behind the manager. If it was a set up for an emotional reunion, someone was about to be horribly disappointed.
I didn’t have to look far to find Tara. She was a few feet away from Nick already nursing a drink. She tried to catch my eye, but I let my gaze pass over her, like I hadn’t recognized her.
The hotel manager held out a hand to help me down the last steps, and I wondered if he wished I could come up with a limp or something. He wore a nametag now. Big letters. Craig something, followed by his title.
“We reckoned we’d put together a wee hoolie for ye, lassie, to make up for yer sufferin’ in our mountains.” He smiled into the bright light of a massive TV camera mounted on a man’s shoulders.
A woman beside him stuck the fluffy end of a microphone toward Craig. “They say ye’re putting the lass up non gratis until she has recovered, is that true?”
“Aye, it is. A nice suite with a turret might erase the memory of that snow cave she was forced to shelter inside.”
Lights, camera, and suddenly Craig can speak clearly enough for any audience to understand?
“What do you think, Mrs. Gaines? Can we call you Matty?”
“Matty Danner, actually. Gaines was my married name.”
“And? Will that turret room help erase the trauma of being lost in the Cairngorms for two days?”
“I guess we’ll see. It is a very nice room though.”
Craig’s smile faltered, then recovered. “And we’ve fed her, o’course. A supper of our famous meat pies and such. Cannae send her home a stone lighter than she brought with her, aye?”
Ah. So there was a reason for the meal.
I smiled toward the light. “And don’t forget the wonderful gift basket and the bottle of whisky.” I gave Craig a pointed look that said that was all the glory he was going to get from me on camera.
“Weel, Aviemore Hospitality and all that.” He waved a hand. “Let’s let our guest of honor find her seat and catch her breath. Maybe she’ll tell her story later on, aye?”
I angled my face away from the camera. “Maybe,” I said, just to him.
He nodded toward Nick, who hovered at his other shoulder now, but I shook my head.
“Weel, ye did fine, lass. None can fault ye fer bein’ weary.” He led me through the crowd and stopped in front of a red wing-backed chair.
With so many people watching my every move, I closed my eyes before I rolled them. And instead of making a scene, I turned around and sat.
Craig leaned down to say, “If ye’re still here ‘round half eight, she’ll come lookin’ for yer harrowing tale.”
“If I’m still here.”
He gave me a genuine smile then. “Ye’ve never seen a hoolie like an Aviemore hoolie, Matty dear. If ye’re not still here at nine, I’ll eat my flashes.”
I laughed. “What are flashes?”
He took a step back, hiked up his kilt, and put out a foot before turning his calf to show me a little flag hanging from the top of his thick knitted stockings.
“That, m’ dear, is a flash.” He made sure others were listening.
“And truth be told, in all m’ days, I’ve only eaten them twice—but rest easy, these arenae the originals! ”
His audience howled with laughter. Some exchanged glances that said they’d heard that joke a few times before. But looking around me, I realized these people were determined to have a really good time, no matter what.
And if I could keep my mind off Cian MacInnis, I might just stick around until nine just to give my pillow more time to dry before I started raining again.