Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
CALLIE
The blaring trill of the alarm bleeds through my sleepy haze.
I reach for my phone and click it off. Sunlight glares through the window into my room, and I squint through it, pushing into a seated position.
I spent half of the night awake—thank you, jet lag—and finally got back to sleep as the first dregs of light began to peek through the curtains this morning.
When my phone immediately starts blasting the alarm again, I pick it up and see that it’s not an alarm at all, but my sister Luna calling.
I swipe to answer. “Hey. Good morning.”
Her voice sounds far away through the speaker. “I figured that’s what happened.”
“What?” My throat is dry, my voice groggy with sleep.
“You slept in.”
“No.” I rub my eyes, yawning. “My alarm just got me up.”
“You slept in, Cal,” she repeats. “Gavin’s waiting for you downstairs. But don’t stress. He’s super nice. I’ll let him know the jet lag got you.”
My mind spins. I pull my phone back and look at the time. “Nine-twenty?! I was supposed to meet him at eight!”
“He isn’t mad,” she says. “He’s worried, actually. He tried to get the hotel to check on you, but they said they wouldn’t bother the guests and we didn’t know your room number. At least you know they protect your privacy at this place.”
I jump out of bed, but the blanket wraps around my ankle, pulling me back. I yank, falling on the floor, and give my knee a nasty bump. “I need to go.”
“Okay, but one more thi—”
“Luna! I have to go!” I screech, pulling myself free.
My heart is racing. Luna set up this ride with Hamish’s cousin to get me from Inverness to the small town where he lives so I wouldn’t have to rent a car and drive in the snow.
Something to do with not getting stuck on their tiny winding roads the way she did once.
Never mind that it’s totally dry out there.
Now this stranger is downstairs waiting—has been waiting—for over an hour.
Mortification doesn’t begin to cover it.
To say nothing for the dried drool crusted to my cheek.
“Right,” she says. “Call me when you get to the house.”
“I’ll see you at the house,” I remind her. We’re both driving there today. Granted, if she left on time, I’m about six hours closer, but still. “Bye!”
We both hang up, and I move into turbo mode, throwing on the first thing I can find that’s warm over my leggings.
I stuff my feet into boots and run my fingers through my hair while tossing things in my bag.
There’s no time to shower, no makeup, no space to tame the short, wavy mess my hair frizzed into overnight.
The pillow indents across my face are especially classy, but I don’t have time to wait for them to recede.
Instrumental Christmas music plays in the lobby as I leave my key with the teen manning the desk.
Frigid air bites at my skin when I push through the double set of doors and step into the sunlight.
A deep green sedan is parked on the street between the hotel and the pub, and a familiar-looking man gets out of the driver’s side.
As soon as I catch eyes with William Wallace, I do an about-face and walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
The very last thing I need right now is another run-in with the man I tried to maul last night in the middle of my jet lag stupor, especially while looking like I spent a night in the drunk tank.
Which is unfair, since I only had water.
“Callie!” a man calls behind me.
Oh, thank all that is holy. That must be my ride, since no one else in Scotland knows my name. I stop and turn back slowly. Maybe he can block me from William Wallace, and I can escape without—what the holly berries? Why is William Wallace coming toward me, calling my name?
“Callie,” he says again, a little breathless.
I’m stunned into silence. Breath clouds before me, and I do nothing to close my mouth.
“May I take your case?” he asks.
Take my—is this a sick joke? First, he’s acting like he knows me.
Second, he’s acting like I should understand why he knows me.
He reaches for the handle to my suitcase, but I pull back, clutching it against my leg until the metal digs into my thigh.
Is this a weird scam? Hit on a girl in a pub, reject her, then act like nothing happened the next morning to lull her into an uneasy sense of trust?
Well, he hasn’t met Callie Winter yet. I’m no easy target.
Except when it comes to Thin Mints and rosy-cheeked Girl Scouts.
But this man is neither of those things. “No.”
His brow pulls tight. “No?”
I gesture between the two of us. “What’s going on here?”
He checks his watch, then allows the sleeve of his jacket to fall again. He’s in the same dark coat from last night over a sweater and jeans. His beard is trimmed, his light brown hair neatly styled, and he looks like he slept soundly. “We’re a wee bit behind schedule. Best we get on the road, eh?”
I shake my head and stare at him, like it could make him go away. But his words lodge in my brain, clearing the haze. This is my ride. Why, universe? Why me?
“You’re Gavin Mackenzie,” I say.
He shifts from one leg to the other. “Aye.” His blue eyes narrow slightly. “You knew that fine last night.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t.” But he thinks I did.
Reality crashes like a tidal wave. I thought he was a handsome stranger in a pub, but he knew exactly who I was.
Somehow, he knew the woman coming to stay at his house for three weeks, to sponge off his generosity, was trying to get fresh with him on the street after a mildly friendly conversation.
Maybe that explains why he walked me out.
But there were still those other signs. The knee against my leg. The way he looked in my eyes. I have kissed a lot of frogs, and I know how to read signs. There was some mutual attraction last night…right? Right?!
“Luna didn’t send you a snap of me?” he asks.
He knows my sister’s name. If I had any lingering doubts, they’re gone now. “Nope. I’m guessing she sent you a picture of me.”
He runs a hand over his short beard. “Aye. A few.”
Humiliation fills me anew, but there’s nothing I can do to change the way things went down last night or how I’ve made him wait an hour and a half for me this morning, so I pull my suitcase past him and head for the green sedan. If he’s my ride to the cottage, I want to get on the move.
The faster we get there, the faster I can wring my sister’s neck.
Gavin swoops in right when I reach the trunk of his car and lifts my bag.
I move around to the passenger side and settle in.
His car is nice. It smells faintly like he does, earthy and clean and reminiscent of a tree, but I don’t know which one.
“Sorry I overslept. I’m usually punctual, but the time change got to me. ”
“Have you eaten?”
“It’s only an hour drive, right? I can wait.”
He nods, pulling onto the road. The city slowly fades into countryside.
Dry golden fields and naked trees fill the window.
The land is punctuated by long stone walls and dotted with cottages and whitewashed houses.
Everything becomes grander the farther we move from Inverness, the mountains glorious, the valleys wide and deep.
There’s still not even a lick of snow.
I check the time and groan inwardly. It’s only been ten minutes.
Gavin clears his throat. “Listen, about last night—”
“Can we please not do this?” I sink a little in my seat, still humiliated. “I’d rather we pretend that never happened.”
“But it did happen. If we don’t discuss it, we’ll feel uncomfortable around each other.”
I’m uncomfortable now.
“We have to spend the next three weeks together,” he says. “We should clear the air.”
Is he in school for psychology, too? I know what he’s saying is true, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk about the most embarrassing moment of my twenty-fourth year.
I run my hands through my hair, wishing it would just lay down so something could go right this morning. “You were pretty clear last night.”
“Aye, but that was when I thought you knew who I was.” He glances at me, then back at the road. “If you did know, I imagine you wouldn’t have—”
“Yep, exactly,” I say shrilly.
He shrugs. “See. Now we understand each other better.”
I get what he means. Okay, fine, maybe it eases my mortification a smidge. Wasn’t I the one who told Luna yesterday I won’t kiss Hamish’s cousin? Learning Gavin’s identity is a swift bucket of cold water on my attraction.
Or maybe that’s the rejection talking.
Either way, I relax a little. “So you’re saying you didn’t kiss me because you knew I was Luna’s sister the whole time?”
“Not entirely. I’m not the fling type, Callie.”
Well, ouch.
“It’s only a kiss,” I mutter. All my fingers and my toes wouldn’t be enough appendages to tally up the number of guys I’ve kissed in my lifetime. It’s not a big deal.
“That’s where we disagree,” he says.
My eyebrows shoot up, and I shift a little to face him. “I wasn’t trying to start a relationship.”
“I understand what a kiss is.”
Not sure he does.
Gavin rests his forearm on the center console, and his hand manages the wheel easily on the narrow lane. “I’m selective about whom I choose to kiss.”
Selective. As in I don’t make the cut. That stings.
He glances at me. “You should be, too.”
“Oh?” I scoff lightly. Right now, I want to select him right out of this car and forget all about his sultry accent and mesmerizing eyes.
“I’ve said the wrong thing,” he hedges.
“Yes, you have.”
Gavin presses his lips together. “It’s not you, Callie. I just don’t kiss every woman I chat with at pubs.”
Ah. Which sounds like he thinks I do kiss every person I chat up at a bar.
Concern flashes over his face. “It’s not a good idea to cross those boundaries.”
What boundaries? Physical ones? My cheeks are hot. He’s practically stamping a label on my forehead that says I’m too free with physical affection, that he cares more about quality than quantity.