Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CAPTAIN SCOTLAND
I’m fairly certain this is breaking all sorts of protocol when it comes to hosting your cousin’s wife’s sister for a few days, but since I never received a rule book and the relation is so far removed there’s no reasonable name for it, I’m pressing forward.
The kitchen is far too warm, but I don’t care.
Callie is leaning against my side, looking up at me like we’re in a private conversation—like two people in a relationship would talk.
Our body language is screaming mutual interest at the very least. This is incriminating.
If Blair is complaining to anyone right now, they’ll look at us, and we’ll confirm their suspicions.
The trouble is I know this, but Callie doesn’t. Yet.
“I mean it,” Callie repeats. “I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend tonight if it keeps Blair away. I don’t know your history, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see a lot of trauma there.”
She doesn’t know the half of it. “Blair is probably telling half my town right now that we’re dating. Or, more accurately, asking if we’re dating. If that train leaves the station, it’ll be impossible to stop.”
“That’s what you want?” she asks. “For the train to drive away?”
I shouldn’t admit it to her, but it is. Instead, I say, “We don’t have to speak in riddles. Everyone in this house knows you’re in the country for a short time, so they’re going to look over here and assume we’re taking advantage of that short time.”
“Ah, I see.” She nods sagely, then her eyes narrow. “But do they all know how selective you are?”
“They can all see how I’m looking at you right now,” I counter.
Callie’s mouth snaps shut.
No, this is a bad idea. She’s right, and she deserves better. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. Let’s go tell—”
“Gavin.” She stops me. “You’re making this a much bigger deal than it is. We’ve already established how unselective I am, right? I’m good with it. Besides, Patty and Douglas thought we were together anyway. And I’ll probably never see any of you again.”
Something weird and cold shoots through my chest. I don’t like the sound of that at all. Why doesn’t it make me feel any better? I’m a man. I can tell Blair to give me space and she’ll have to give me space. Right?
Very well. I can admit how unlike Blair that sounds.
The woman is more toxic than a vat of green biohazard waste.
The way she arrived in my life again a few years ago once my books made it big is proof.
Callie made for a good repellent, and I’m grateful for her help.
But this won’t work if it’s just benefitting me. “What do you get out of it, Callie?”
She grins widely. “Maybe a few pictures to put on Instagram, just to show my ex how I won the breakup.”
“How you won?” I repeat.
“You’re way hotter than him, and he’ll know it.”
All that cold discomfort immediately dissipates, replaced with pulsating warmth. I like knowing she’s attracted to me. I made assumptions, given our first evening at the pub, but hearing it from her is different. It puts a bit of steel in my back.
But it’s chased by the stark truth that she’s using me as much as I’m using her. “You want to make him jealous.”
“No…” Callie looks thoughtful, her nose wrinkling in an adorable way. “Well, maybe? I want to brag, I guess. Maybe if he thinks I’ve moved on, his girlfriend will believe it too.”
Alarm rings through me. “Have you had trouble making her believe you’re over him?”
Callie’s eyes dart to me. “My ex, Alex, is dating my clinical supervisor.”
The penny drops, and everything clicks into place. “The teacher who doesn’t like you. You want to prove you’re over Alex so she might leave you alone.”
“Small chance of that happening, but it’s a possibility. Maybe she’ll stop sabotaging my counseling schedule and pushing me behind. It’s worth trying, at least.”
“So we do this tonight, take some photographs, and when our family arrives we keep our distance.”
“No one has to know,” she agrees. “We don’t have to confirm anything, either. I think your friends will keep making assumptions on their own.”
“True.”
She pushes her finger lightly into my chest. “But once Luna gets here, it’s off. It’s her greatest wish for me to move here, so we can’t get her hopes up.”
“Deal.”
Callie pulls her phone from her pocket and turns on the camera, then holds out her arm. “Photo número uno. That’s Spanish for—”
“I know.”
“Okay. You want to take it? Your arms are longer.”
“Sure.” I take the phone and hold it out.
Callie puts her back against my chest, and I wrap my free arm around her on impulse.
Her hands cling to my forearm, and her head rests back against me.
It’s such a comfortable pose, I want to stay like this, to wrap my other arm around her and breathe for a minute.
Instead, I hold out the camera and smile. Callie has a cheesy grin, sticking her tongue out the side. When I hold the phone closer so we can look at it, she relaxes against me, but doesn’t let go of my arm.
“It’s cute,” she says.
I fair love it. I’m smiling, and I look relaxed. Callie is adorable. I could bottle her up and keep her in my pocket if that wasn’t creepy.
“Will it work?” I try to sound nonchalant.
“Yes.”
Then why isn’t she moving? I don’t want to mess with the moment, so I say nothing else.
Her phone buzzes in my hand. A text message pops up on the screen from Luna and breaks the tension pulling taut between us, snapping the thread.
“Oh, it’s my sister.” Callie takes the phone and swipes it open. After a second, she holds the phone up for me to read.
Luna
We’re leaving first thing in the morning! I’ll be hugging you by dinner time
Callie is still holding my arm, leaning back against my chest. It’s comfortable, and I don’t want it to end. We both know the way our family’s arrival is going to change everything. It feels like we’re literally holding on to each other for a bit longer because we only have a bit left.
“That’s great news,” I finally say. It’s the right response, so why don’t I mean it?
She gives my arm a little squeeze before stepping out of my hold. “Yeah. I hope they get through alright.”
“Rory thinks it won’t be a problem.”
Callie looks up at me beneath thick lashes. “You’ve talked to Rory about this already?”
“Earlier tonight. He was only guessing.”
She nods. “Then I suppose we only have one more day. You know what this means, right?”
That everything is about to change. I don’t say that to her, of course. That would be weird. I’m not looking forward to how things will shift between us, though. It feels like we just barely became friends, and now our families are going to slide in and alter the dynamic entirely.
I love Hamish. We’ve always been close—as far as cousins who live in two countries nine hours apart can be, I mean. So I’m going to choose to be happy, not disappointed.
My smile is wide. “What does it mean?”
“We have to decorate tomorrow.”
I’d forgotten about Callie’s project to turn my house into Santa’s grotto. “I figured you gave up on that after the boxes hurt your back.”
“Took a break,” she corrects. “But now we’re properly motivated again.”
“Motivated for what?” Granny asks, approaching us in the kitchen.
“Nessa!” Callie says with enthusiasm, reaching forward to hug my granny. “Do you like my sweater? Gavin let me borrow it.”
“It’s bonnie,” Granny says. She gives me a look I can’t decipher before smiling at Callie again.
“We need to decorate before Hamish arrives tomorrow,” I say.
“Och, your mother will be glad to hear that,” Granny says. “We’ll bring tea tomorrow then?”
“I have it covered,” I say, though I don’t know what I’m cooking yet.
Granny gives me an indecipherable look. “Your parents might be ready to park the campervan at the house now that the roads have cleared.”
Why does she keep trying? I love her too much to ask, though.
“They’re always welcome,” I say instead.
The look in her eyes says I’m not fooling her.
She’s not fooling me. We both know what kind of people my parents are.
Is it the hopeful optimist in Granny forcing her to always expect the best, even after Mum and Dad have proven the worst time and time again?
“You’ve been hidden away in here long enough,” Granny finally says, reaching for Callie’s hand and patting the back. “What do you say? Come out and meet some of the locals.”
“I’d like that,” Callie says.
Granny gives me a bright smile. “Coming, Gav?”
It’s either that or wait in the kitchen for Blair to pounce again, isn’t it?
The woman took me to the lowest point in my life and seems to enjoy doing her best to pull me in again every chance she can.
She’s toxic, and I’m her self-esteem booster.
It’s a sickness, but I’ve learned from it. I’ve armed myself.
And my armor is about to walk away with Granny. What choice do I have?
“Aye. I’m coming.”
The party fizzled after eleven, about half of the attendants being over fifty and up far past their self-proclaimed bedtimes.
I kept expecting Blair to leave, but she stuck around all night, chatting with my friends, joining the circle of conversations I’ve been in.
She looks good. She’s always looked good.
But that doesn’t erase the last ten years, nor the pain she’s caused.
I’m not fool enough to fall for this again.
Last time she came to visit a few years ago, she did the same. Pretended to want friendship, said she missed me, came to my house to talk, and I fell hard. Maybe I knew deep down it was too good to be true, but that ever-present hope blared its awful light and made me want to believe.
Jack had gone and hid in his room well over an hour ago when Katie pulled out her karaoke machine. She had to put it away again when Nat fell asleep in the armchair beside the Christmas tree, but the rest of us were alright with that.
I’m leaning on the arm of the sofa, sipping at my drink as Callie leans against my shoulder.
She’s standing beside me, speaking with Lewis, and I am glad for her presence.
Blair might be talking to Rory, but she keeps looking at me.
All night she’s been watching me, waiting for Callie to step away and give me space.
But all night, Callie has stuck to my side like a barnacle. Even now, her arm is pressing into my shoulder as she laughs at whatever lame joke Lewis told. She leans back enough that I wonder if she’s beginning to feel tired.
But I don’t mind being her support post. There’s something about being needed that gives me purpose, makes me feel powerful, like I can withstand anything.
Callie’s hand slides down my arm and circles my wrist. She gives me a light squeeze, and I look up to find her smile forced.
I should’ve been paying attention.
Lewis is standing much closer now. He runs a hand through his long, stringy hair and leans toward Callie. “But you want to touch the stones, eh?”
If he’s hitting on her with the help of Outlander, he’s way off the mark. Lewis looks more like Elephant and Piggie—both the characters and my horses—than he does Sam Heughan.
“My bucket list is much more reasonable, actually.” Callie squeezes my wrist again.
It’s not that helpful, because I can’t read thumbs. I don’t know what she wants. I glance over, and her eyebrows dash up.
“She wants an American Christmas,” I venture.
“Just a Christmas is good enough, but there has to be a tree. And stockings. And garland, of course. And—”
“So, a fully dressed American Christmas,” I repeat.
Callie laughs. “That’s normal holiday stuff. My Scotland bucket list is far more specific.”
“Care to enlighten us?”
“Ancient stones are on there,” she says. “So is a horse ride.”
“You did that yesterday.”
“I did.”
“What else?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Lewis asks, glancing between us.
Callie leans against my chest. “This is new.”
Jealousy flashes across Lewis’s face. The man isn’t known for his discretion. He and Nat end up together more often than not, and judging by his irritation, he was hoping to try his hand at the new girl. I suppose the protective armor goes both ways.
She yawns.
“Ready to go home?” I ask, hoping she’ll agree.
“Sure. Just let me grab my coat. I left it in the kitchen.”
She weaves through the few remaining people while Rory passes her, not trying to be subtle about the way he stands directly in front of Lewis. They’d never liked each other.
“We’re leaving.”
“I heard.” Rory rubs his hand over his chin, his eyebrows dipping together. “You’re being careful, aye?”
He could mean that in a variety of ways. I’m debating asking him to clarify when he continues.
“I don’t want you to end up hurt when she goes back to the States.”
It’s touching, really. He cares. I want to say he’s overreacting and worrying about nothing, but this is nothing like the last time. Rory, of all people, should know that.
“She isn’t Blair,” I say. “And there’s no Liv. It’s not the same.”
Rory doesn’t look convinced.
“I’m ready,” Callie says brightly, appearing behind Rory. Her smile is wide. Too wide. How much did she overhear?
It’s too late to worry about this. I take her hand without overthinking the consequences and tug her toward the door.
We cannot be out of there soon enough for my taste.
“Good night, folks,” I say, lifting my free hand in a general wave to the room.
I ignore Blair, but I can feel her watching us leave.
As we walk from the house toward my Land Rover, Callie’s fingers stay intertwined with mine. I’m certain it’s just in case anyone is watching us through Katie’s windows, but I let myself sink into the feeling anyway.