Chapter 19
19
A s soon as Nathan was gone, Gordon turned to Gennie. ‘So, how do you like our corner of Scotland?’
She leaned against the counter, watching Gordon and Martin work with efficient ease. ‘Honestly? I love it here. The people are so nice. And the forests are stunning.’
Gordon grinned. ‘Aye, Perthshire’s a hidden gem. Have you tried haggis yet?’
‘Nope. Still working up the courage.’
‘Ye’ll like it.’ Martin’s eyes widened with interest. ‘Do ye have Scottish ancestors? A lot of Americans do. Truth be told, there isn’t a corner of the world that hasn’t seen a Scot. Because of the shite weather here!’ He laughed, the sound full like a rolling barrel. But then his voice got serious. ‘Well that – and all the nasty exploitations of the British Empire. We were very much a part of it.’
‘Don’t know, maybe. My mom’s blonde, but I’m a lot darker. It’s a bit of a mystery.’ Gennie didn’t want to say more. Mostly because she didn’t know much more. Her mother had never told her anything about her father, not even his name. She probably couldn’t remember it, anyway.
It was what it was.
Gordon patted her arm. ‘We’re all Jock Tamson’s bairns. No matter where we come from.’
Martin dipped the mop into the bucket and wrung it out. The itch to do something, anything, crawled under Gennie’s skin like a thousand ants. She felt useless. A dead weight taking up space, freeloading on their kindness. And Nathan’s.
Unwanted memories raced in like a car in a high-speed chase. Young Gennie and her mum as they’d trailed after rich people, scrubbing their shit-stained toilets and mopping their gleaming floors. The acrid stench of bleach burning her nostrils, the lemon scent masking the underlying funk of other people’s lives. Her back screaming by day’s end. Before her grandparents had kicked the bucket, leaving them enough to snag that shoebox in Venice, her mum had taken any gig she could get. The rent waited for no one. And Gennie had been right there with her, had learned the value of hard work and the sting of pride.
She pushed down the knot in her throat. ‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘Naw! That’s all we need, to let injured people do our work!’ Gordon said. ‘No, no, love. As long as we’re able, we do it ourselves. But thank you for the offer.’
‘I guess I’ll make some tea then.’ Legs still a bit shaky from the way Nathan had worked her over with those talented fingers of his, she put the kettle on.
The way Gordon and Martin moved around each other, anticipating needs and cracking jokes it was like a well-choreographed dance.
Longing struck her, a yearning for that kind of easy familiarity. ’Nathan’s lucky to have you guys.’
Gordon glanced over, a knowing smile on his face. ‘No, he’s lucky to have you here. You liven up the place.’
Gennie snorted. ‘Not sure he’d put it that way.’
‘Och,’ Martin chimed in, elbow-deep in suds. ‘He’s just too stubborn to admit it. He’s overjoyed is what he is.’
‘Martin!’ Gordon whacked him with a tea towel. ‘Don’t put words in the man’s mouth.’
She bit back a grin. Dirty little secrets danced behind her eyes at the thought of Nathan’s mouth… Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Her body was still buzzing like a live wire, her composure slipped away faster than sand through an hourglass. So much for focusing on her career and not getting involved with anyone. Even if that ‘anyone’ wasn’t just anyone, but Nathan.
Don’t question it, girl. Enjoy the ride.
‘He’s been really kind to me.’ Understatement of the millennium. Kind enough to kiss her like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, making her see the birth of the universe with every flick of that tongue and move of those skilled fingers.
Martin and Gordon exchanged a look. ‘He’s a good lad. But he’s had his fair share of trouble.’ Gordon lowered his voice. ‘Not easy, what’s happened to him.’
She glanced between them. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but… Care to elaborate?’
‘Let’s just say, fame’s not what it’s cracked up to be. He got caught up in a right mess. That cursed tape…’ Gordon sighed.
‘Aye, he’s been through a lot.’ Martin moved the mop in straight lines across the floor. ‘The press after the scandal, it’s taken its toll. They wrote a lot of rubbish. Absolutely vicious. It hurt him and everybody around him.’
Gordon scrubbed the hob. ‘He shut himself off after that. Can’t blame him.’
‘Aye, we’d like to see him more involved in the community,’ Martin said, ‘but we understand why he stays away.’
‘And the divorce…not good.’ Gordon’s hands rested on the counter. ‘Truly did a number on him. He’s a family man, through and through.’
Gennie frowned. ‘That’s rough. I can’t imagine.’
She felt a growing connection to this kind, no-nonsense couple. They gave her a glimpse into his past, his pain, and his heart. But not in a gossipy way. They seemed…genuinely loving and caring.
‘He’s not one to ask for help, our Nathan.’ Martin shook his head. ‘Too stubborn and proud for his own good.’
That was a tune she knew only too well. ‘Maybe he needs someone to offer,’ Gennie said, more to herself than anyone else.
Gordon’s eyes met hers. ‘Maybe he does. Anyway, enough about that. How are you settling in? Must be a change from Los Angeles.’
‘Yeah, it is. I mean, look at the weather. But weirdly, I don’t miss L.A.’
‘Interesting. I’ve always wanted to go. But we only made it to Vegas when we renewed our vows, Cher impersonator and all,’ Gordon said. ‘How long are you staying for?’
‘Until the film is finished. It’s scheduled for another three weeks. I hope to be back on set soon.’
‘And I hope you enjoy Perthshire,’ Gordon said, ‘I’d love to keep chatting, but we’ve got the rest of the house to tackle love.’
Gennie nodded. ‘Of course, yeah. I’ll leave you to it.’
Martin made a mock salute, mop in hand. They both moved out of the kitchen, Gordon to the lounge and Martin to the hallway, their banter carrying through the house.
She drew a long, steadying inhale and made her way to the front porch, letting the cool air clear her mind.
A picture-perfect scene unfolded before her. A small driveway framed a view that would make poets weep – lake, pastures, and wooded hills stretched as far as the eye could see. The mid-morning mist hung low and blurred the lines between earth and sky. The water’s surface rippled in the breeze.
She pulled her chunky cardigan tighter. There were no noticeable seasons in Los Angeles. But this here…was magical.
Who knew I’m a fall girl in more ways than one? Ha ha.
Across the water, trees stood against a sky that held back the sun. Leaves blazed red and orange and brown – nature’s curtain call before winter’s grand entrance. The time for rest and peace. Not a soul in sight, blessed silence reigned supreme. Land, lake, and forest blanketed the landscape and stretched on without end. Gennie drank it all in, let the serene fall scene soothe her frazzled nerves.
She plopped down on the weathered stone steps and felt the last of her worries melt away. Time seemed to slow to a crawl out here, no schedule to keep, no one to answer to. Just her, the grounding scents, and the tranquil beauty of nature.
That peace didn’t last long.
Her phone had to go and ruin the peace, buzzing and vibrating. Even out here in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, the real world refused to leave a girl be.
Darius Carter, her stunt coordinator? Shit. Hopefully not calling to give her the boot.
‘Hey Gennie, it’s Darius. How’s the recovery going?’
‘Darius, hey. I’m all right. My ankle is much better and the rib’s healing nicely.’
‘Listen, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’ve got in a mess with Chloe. She had to leave production immediately and—‘
‘What? What happened?’
‘Sorry, can’t say. Strictly confidential. But check TMZ if you must.’ He let out an annoyed grunt. ‘Anyway, as her stunt double, we’d like you to fill in for a few scenes to keep the shoot on schedule. We’ll be using tight shots and over-the-shoulder angles to keep your face out of frame.’
‘You want me to…act?’
‘You’re an actress, aren’t you? Come on, you’ve got the same build, you’re already her double. With a bit of CGI, we can make it seamless. Not much dialogue; that’s mostly done, thank God. Was hard enough. Mancini said we don’t have the budget for a recast. You’re our last hope.’ He let out a nervous laugh.
Gennie gripped the phone tighter. ‘Darius, what the—’
‘Look, I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t think you could handle it.’
Gennie stared out at the lake, her mind spun like a merry-go-round at full speed. This was it. Her chance to prove she wasn’t just a girl with a death wish. To step up, fill the gap, kick down some doors. A small, but good way to get her name out there, show versatility. Her heart thudded with a chaotic beat. She glanced at her ankle, still a bit tender but mostly healed.
Fuck it.
‘Yeah, you got it, Darius.’
‘Good. We’ll start the day after tomorrow with some of the less intense scenes. You’ll be alright. Mancini’s counting on you.’
She sighed, anxiety and excitement swirled in her gut. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘Atta girl. There’ll be more money, of course. Carmen will sort out the details and get back to you. See you on set in two days. Take care, Gennie. Get some rest.’
The call ended, and she stared at her phone as if it might sprout wings and fly away. She looked up at the sky, a determined grin creeping across her face. More exposure, more in her portfolio, more money. The film world was fickle; opportunities like this were rare.
She sucked in a breath, the fall air filling her lungs. Then she hauled herself up, her sore ankle barely noticeable.
You’ll be fine, Rivers.
She marched back inside, her head filled with visions of the scenes to come. She couldn’t wait to tell Nathan. No backing down now. Time to prove she had the chops to pull this off. She was ready. She had to be.
What an all-round miracle Scotland turned out to be.
The kitchen’s warmth enveloped her like a bear hug, lemon and pancakes. Gordon and Martin were packing up, their loving bickering filled the air like soothing background music.
‘Martin, you missed a spot.’ Gordon pointed to a corner with all the authority of a drill sergeant. ‘Honestly, you’d be lost without me.’
‘Aye, lost in a sea of peace and quiet,’ Martin said with a wink.
She smiled, the weight of her conversation with Darius lifting a smidge. It was lovely, this kind of bond that came from years together.
Gordon’s gaze landed on her. ‘Nathan mentioned your pod burning down. Must’ve been a fright.’
‘Yeah, wasn’t fun.’ She tried to keep her tone light. ‘I’m just glad I wasn’t barbecued in my sleep.’
Martin nodded, his face serious. ‘That was a right mess. Cost him a fair bit to sort it out. Insurance only covers so much. Shame, so soon after the thing with the distillery roof.’
‘He didn’t mention that part,’ she said.
Gordon sighed, the sound heavy as lead. ‘Aye, he wouldn’t. Doesn’t like to talk about money. But it’s been a strain.’
The back door swung open, and Nathan strode in, looking like he’d wrestled the Scottish weather and won. Her heart did a full 360. God, he was gorgeous. Larger than life with his broad shoulders and six-foot-something of muscle, topped with that hair she itched to run her fingers through. His eyes met hers, dangerous as a stormy sky.
A crooked grin spread across his face, and her insides turned to lava. Twelve years her senior? More like twelve levels out of her league. He was a whole-ass man, steady and true, with his shit together in ways she could only dream of. He’d seen the world, earned every scar. Not to forget the fact that he was a father and a fantastic one at that. Nathan deserved a woman who had her feet on the ground and her head out of the clouds. And Gennie was more at home in the clouds than anywhere else, chasing pipe dreams and counting on luck to get her through. A guy like him needed a partner, not a project.
Memories of their earlier encounter played on a loop in her mind. Gennie straightened her spine and refused to let her knees buckle. But as his gaze raked over her, hot enough to melt steel, she had to admit – being the centre of this man’s attention was one hell of a power trip. And made her feel all fuzzy inside.
‘Speak of the devil,’ Martin called out. ‘We were just talking about ye.’
Nathan flaunted that rare lopsided grin again. ‘You better not be filling her head with nonsense.’
‘Nonsense? Never,’ Gordon assured him, but there was a sly curve to his smile.
Gennie busied herself with mugs and milk, fully aware that Nathan’s gaze was burning a hole in her back.
They sat down around the table, steaming mugs in hand, and the conversation flowed more easily than top-shelf whisky. She found herself laughing, the knots in her muscles loosening one by one. There were inside jokes, laughter, and a lightness about him. This was a side of Nathan she hadn’t seen. Open, warm, and connected to his people.
Martin regaled them with stories of Nathan’s youth. ‘Remember the summer holiday ye tried to make yer own whisky in our B&B’s garage? Nearly burned the place down.’
Nathan rolled his eyes. ‘I was thirteen. And you were supposed to be helping.’
‘Aye, well, lesson learned.’ Martin grinned. ‘I was only nineteen myself. Never trust teenagers with a still.’
Gennie laughed. This camaraderie felt like slipping into a warm bath after a long day.
As the Camerons finished and prepared to leave, Gordon pulled her aside. ‘Look after him, will you?’ The words were soft but weighted with meaning.
She nodded, her throat suddenly as tight as a drum. ‘I’ll try.’
Martin hugged her. ‘And Nathan, don’t forget to smile once in a while.’
‘See you next month.’
And then it was her and him, unspoken words saturating the space between them like dense Scottish fog.
‘So,’ she said, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere. ‘That was nice. The Camerons, I mean.’ Jesus, could she sound any more like a flustered teenager?
‘They’re good people.’ He nodded, his eyes locked on hers like heat-seeking missiles. ‘And they clearly like you.’
‘I like them too. They care about you. A lot.’ She took a step. ‘We have that in common.’
Nathan closed the gap between them. His hand brushed against hers. ‘So, about earlier…’
Her pulse quickened and her voice came out embarrassingly wispy. ‘Yeah?’
‘I was thinking, perhaps we can—‘
The shrill ring of her phone sliced through the air and shattered the moment into a million pieces. Biting back a curse that would have made a sailor blush, she fumbled for her pocket. The screen lit up with an unknown number. It could be Carmen. But a sense of unease slithered up her spine like an icy finger.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I think I have to take this.’