Chapter 2
MILES
Ending up flat on my ass in the mud about sums up how my journey to Scotland has gone so far.
I reach for the hand of the woman with a halo of soft red curls framing her face.
Her eyes are so blue they look like the sky, but not the gray clouds behind her.
They look like the sky on the bluest day on a white sand beach on a tropical island somewhere.
She’s stronger than I expect, and I’m on my feet in one swift move.
“Thanks. I’m Miles.”
She brushes her hands off on her tight jeans, and I can’t help but notice her legs. They’re long, with sculpted thighs that curve up in a lovely swoop to her hips. My eyes linger for a bit too long, and I glance away.
Skye’s cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. “I know. Are you lost?”
“No, we’re shooting a movie here—well, there.” I point to the castle looming in the background. It looks about a million years old. Her face is different when I turn back to her. Her mouth is set in a tight line.
“I live there.”
I thought it was abandoned. From this angle, it doesn’t look up to code.
“You’re shooting a movie?” she continues. “Is that why you’re out here petting my cows dressed like… like a Scottish Ken doll?”
A powerful gust of wind blows, and for the millionth time on this journey, I wish I’d thrown a pair of sweats into my carry-on bag. Goosebumps cover my thighs, driving her point about Scottish Ken home.
I cross my arms, trying to keep some heat in. “I was at a film festival with my brother and wanted to drum up some buzz about this movie. The plan was to change when I landed, but that was shot to hell since somewhere along the way, the airline lost my luggage…”
As I ramble on, I can’t help but notice her unimpressed expression.
Why didn’t I buy a pair of sweats at the airport?
Because they had such cozy blankets in the first-class lounge.
I hadn’t thought of it—I also hadn’t thought to charge my phone, which is why I took a bus from Edinburgh to the Highlands instead of getting picked up. I try again to explain.
“It was all arranged so I could come early, before the rest of the crew.”
She shakes her head and starts walking.
I grab my black leather backpack from where it landed when I ate shit and fall into step next to her.
“It’s part of my process to immerse myself in the character.
I was nearly to the castle when I saw the cows.
They’re so cool. Like rock star cows with their shaggy hair brushing in their eyes.
They’re just missing the leather pants, although that would be a bit cannibalistic for them.
Maybe some high-quality vegan pleather.”
A tiny smirk plays at the side of her mouth. I’m amusing her at the very least.
“I didn’t catch your name.”
“Skye.”
I laugh. Skye, as in the tropical blue of her eyes. There’s something oddly familiar about the name. I can’t put my finger on it.
“What?”
I bite my lip to keep my thoughts in my head. “It’s a beautiful name.”
Silence falls over our walk. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m acting like an awkward teenager when normally I’m extremely charming. Come on, Miles. Charm her!
I clear my throat. “Thanks for helping me back there. Hell of a meet-cute, huh?”
She looks at me, her piercing blue eyes flashing a shade darker. I want to scoop the words I just spoke out of the air, shove them back in my mouth, and then chew them in the slow, sexy way cowboys gnaw on the end of a piece of straw.
“Not that we…not that you… I mean, you probably have a boyfriend or a partner. I just meant if it were a movie, we would fall madly in love after this. Actually, if it were a movie, I would’ve pulled you down with me in the mud when you helped me up.
” My mind runs that reel; her body against mine, her soft curls tickling my neck.
Skye’s cheeks turn pink, matching her rosebud lips, like she can read my mind. I push the thoughts away. I’m not ready to have feelings like that for anyone. Not after what happened in Barbados. Besides, I just met this woman. It’s jet lag.
I sigh. “Let’s start over. I’m Miles. Callum told me I could stay here before production for research.”
Skye stops walking. The gravel crunches behind us, too loud for any more conversation. A dark-green Jeep that’s more rust than car stops. Out steps a large man with an even larger smile and a gray beard.
“Ahhh, you are here.” The man’s eyes spark with amusement as he takes me in. I’d almost forgotten about the mud. “And it looks like you’re in need of a shower. I’m Callum.”
I take his outstretched hand. “Callum, it is so nice to meet you. Thank you again for letting me come before the other key creatives.”
“Of course. We’re happy to have you.”
A small scoff escapes Skye, which tells me the “we” in his statement isn’t true.
Callum looks past me on the path. “Where is your luggage?”
I let out a long breath. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, come on. I’ll give you the grand tour after you’ve had a chance to clean up.”
“Dad,” Skye interjects. “We need to talk.”
“Aye. But later.”
The frown deepens as she hops on her bike, her strong legs carrying her away.
“Hop in.” Callum motions to the Jeep.
“But your seats…” I motion to the mass of mud on my kilt.
“Trust me, they’ve seen worse.”
As the Jeep drives slowly up the gravel path, the castle comes into better view. It’s much bigger than I expected. In fact, it’s massive. It has to take up an entire city block. The stone is a worn-in rosy tan that pops against the gray sky. A large spire towers above the rest, crumbling with age.
How old is this castle, anyway?
I half expect a dragon to fly overhead and Daenerys to jump out from behind one of the hedges lining the grounds.
Skye’s already off her bike, and I watch as she walks through a dark-wood arched door with a little iron window in it. Callum parks the car. We stroll up the couple of stairs and into the castle.
He leads me up the staircase lined with threadbare red carpet, through cavernous hallways, stones jutting out here and there.
I shot a movie once where we spent a lot of time filming in caves, and this castle has a similar smell—wet rock.
Not unpleasant, but unexpected. Not exactly what I’d call homey.
It’s hard to imagine living here. How odd would it be to grow up in an honest-to-God castle? Maybe I can ask Skye later.
Callum opens the door to a room near the corner of the castle.
It has a fluffy bed with a white comforter.
A coat of arms hangs on the wall with what I assume are real swords.
The window looks out over massive green fields, and off in the distance Loch Ness is twinkling in the sun that has broken through the clouds.
It’s picture-perfect. This film is going to look amazing.
“Bog’s down the hall. It doesn’t have an actual shower, but it has one of those showerhead sprayers. Very modern. I’ll throw a jumper and some trousers in there for you. Skye can take you shopping a little later. Foyers won’t have much in the way of clothes, but you can head into Inverness.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Callum gives me a small salute before he shuts the door.
Setting my backpack down on the desk near the window, I pull my phone out of the front pocket.
Still dead. I search again through the main part of the backpack for my charger, which I know I tucked safely into the small pocket on the front of my luggage. My lost luggage. Still not there.
I set the phone down on the desk and head back into the hall to find the bathroom.
Music thumps from behind the door directly across from mine.
It’s open just a crack, so I get closer.
David Bowie spills out into the hall. The room inside is colorful with a bright-yellow shag rug covering the stone floor and a royal blue velvet chair sitting in the corner.
A sweater sails from across the room to land on the bed, and I catch a glimpse of Skye stomping around her room, singing softly in just a black bra and jeans.
Oh shit.
She’s getting dressed or undressed. Either way, I shouldn’t be here. I back away from the door, but not before she catches my eye.
“What are you doing?” She quickly snatches the sweater and holds it to her chest.
I put my hand over my eyes as if that could help. “I was just looking for the bathroom.”
“And you thought we always blast “Heroes” in the loo?”
“No, I…”
She shuts the door. That couldn’t have gone any worse.
“It’s over here.” Callum comes down the hall chuckling, clothes in his arms.
“Thanks.” I take the clothes from him gratefully. “Hey, I forgot to ask… Do you have internet?”
“Aye, most days we do. It’s a bit spotty. The password is Brown Sugar.” He lowers his voice. “The song, not the baking product. It’s spelled the same, but the distinction matters to Skye.”
I smile and immediately hear the Rolling Stones song in my head. “Got it.”
The water in the clawfoot tub is hot, unraveling some of the knots in my shoulders. Not sure if there are more from the journey or from the unexpected welcome. It seems like maybe Skye didn’t know we’re filming here.
But that’s not my problem.
I need to focus on my character. He breathed these stone walls like it was the only oxygen he needed. So I will too. Which will be a stretch.
I’m a city kid. Aside from some other locations for filming, I’m not used to this much silence and open space.
But I’ll have to get used to it quick if this film is going to be a hit.
The premise of the film is already so out there; if I can’t nail the authenticity of the character, it will all fall apart.
I sink a little lower in the tub, letting myself fully relax. This film will work. It has to. My career depends on it.