Chapter 9 Miles
MILES
Skye’s out front on the phone, so I hang back, slow my pace. Her hair is catching the morning light, making it look like fire. I want to reach out and touch it, so I put my hands in my pockets instead.
Once she tucks her phone away, I approach and tell myself to be cool. I’m Miles Casey. I walk into far more intimidating situations than this on a weekly basis. What is it about this blue-eyed, long-legged woman that sends adrenaline coursing through my veins?
“Of all the roads in all of Scotland…” I say with a smile. That was cool.
She returns my smile with one of her own, and it shatters me. “I would argue you walked onto mine.”
I raise both my hands. “Fair point.”
Skye looks down at her bike. “I was going to go for a ride, but…” She seems to be considering her next words, then looks up at me, her blue eyes so breathtaking I catch myself from staggering back. “Unless you might want to go for a horseback ride.”
“With you?”
She laughs. “Aye.”
My heart floats out of my chest. I expect to see it hovering between us like a party balloon. “Yes, please. I would like that very much.”
So much for being cool.
She smiles. “Let me just put this away.”
I can’t help but watch her as she goes. Her jeans hug her curves in all the right places. When she heads back toward me, she motions for me to join her. I want to run, but I walk — fast.
“The horses are just back here.”
“Is what I’m wearing okay?”
“Yep. It should be fine, but if you want to change, you can. I actually need to get a few things too.”
We agree to meet at the stables in fifteen minutes. I shuffle around some things in my backpack and notice I have a couple of missed calls. Whoever it is will have to sweat it out, because there is no way I’m making Skye wait.
I walk behind the castle and into the field where there is a large barn.
Skye introduces me to the horse I’ll be riding.
Foxy is a beautiful old Clydesdale with shaggy white feet and brown markings all over.
Skye hands me an apple to feed her. Foxy munches it gratefully as I stroke her soft neck on the side.
“She likes you.”
“I like her too.” I look at Skye, her blue eyes piercing right into my thoughts. “She’s gorgeous.”
Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and I think she knows I wasn’t just talking about the horse.
We get both horses saddled up and ride toward the loch.
We take a trail that winds through the trees instead of the road we drove on before.
It’s so green. Green grass, green trees, green moss covering them.
It smells sharp of pine and dirt and a subtle floral scent that I can’t quite place.
I wonder if it’s Skye. I watch her up ahead, her soft curls flowing behind her, bouncing with each step, and I imagine myself burying my face in her hair. Would the smell get stronger?
Skye looks back, and I glance away quickly so she doesn't think I’m a creep for staring at her all the time.
“You’re good on a horse,” she says, a note of surprise in her voice.
“I’ve had training.” I nod. “Rode them in quite a few movies over the years.”
“Ahh, yes.” She lifts up her pointer finger. “I saw that cowboy one. What was it called?” She snaps her fingers. “Spurned. You were on a horse in that whole thing. I just forgot.”
I laugh. “My performance was that memorable, huh?”
She falters, and I quickly add, “I’m kidding. It was terrible. But that movie was a lot of fun to make. I loved the horse. His name was Wayne, named after John Wayne. He was a handful.” I pat Foxy on the side. “Nothing like you. You are such a good girl.”
Skye smirks, an adorable half-smile, and turns back to the trail. “Let’s see what you got, then.”
She gives her horse a kick, and they're off like a shot.
It’s true that I’ve been trained, but it’s also true that it’s been years since I’ve been in the saddle. I give Foxy one more pat. “Okay, girl. Please, please make me look good.”
A swift kick to her sides, and we’re off. The wind is fresh on my face. My sweater blows snug against my torso. I feel alive. I feel free. Maybe I should get a horse. But where would I put it at my place in LA? Maybe I should move somewhere quieter.
During my travels around the Highlands, when I wasn’t worried about Skye never forgiving me, I felt at peace.
The silence is soothing. And I was only stopped by fans a handful of times.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss a quick drive to get my favorite green smoothie, but the countryside suits me more than I thought it would.
Maybe I’m just over-identifying with my character. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I bring my focus back to the trail. We’re headed down toward the loch now, and I catch up to Skye.
She’s slowed her mare down to a trot, and we ride side by side.
We take a trail right on the banks of Loch Ness.
The water stretches out, rippling in the wind this morning.
Streaks of black mix with every shade of gray you can imagine, settling into a stark white on the horizon.
I never knew so many subtleties of gray existed before coming here.
My eyes scan the water automatically for movement.
“So…monster hunting?” She raises her eyebrows as she asks.
I smile. She must’ve caught me searching. “Aye.”
She laughs. “Aye?”
“Trying it out. For my character.”
I tell her about my adventures over the past week, staying in small towns, hearing about people’s experiences with the loch and the monster.
“Everyone who lives near the loch has one, according to Margie.”
Skye nods. “Believe me, I know.”
I tear my eyes away from the water to look at Skye again, a far more breathtaking sight. The gray makes any color against it pop, and Skye is all color, from her red hair to her blue eyes, to her pink sweater that perfectly matches her cheeks on this ride, to her dark green boots.
“Do you have a story?”
She looks startled, so I clarify. “About the Loch Ness monster?”
“We all call her Nessie.”
“I’m catching on to that.” I laugh. “For some reason, it feels overly familiar for me. Like I haven’t earned it yet or something. Have you seen it, though?”
Skye looks off in the distance. “Nessie stories are best told next to a fire, preferably with whiskey.”
“It’s a date, then.”
Her eyes twinkle when she turns back to face me, and my heart drops into my shoes.
I’ve been telling myself I shouldn’t indulge my attraction toward her.
But when she looks at me like that? It’s undeniable, forceful.
It feels like an earthquake. I’m powerless to stop it.
I just have to hold on tight and pray I don’t get clobbered.
Then she’s off again at a gallop.
We ride for a couple of hours before Skye stops in a small field on top of a hill. She ties Pippi up to a tree and pulls an apple out of her bag for her.
Over the course of my career, I’ve ridden a ton of horses but never put away or tied one up.
That was always the trainer’s job. I fumble to knot the reins.
Skye leans over me, her arm brushing mine.
Her hair caresses my face, and the scent of lavender is overwhelming.
As she moves back, her hip grazes my fingertips.
My body is electrified everywhere we’ve made contact.
Skye tosses an apple my way, and it soars past me in my stunned state. She laughs as I grab it off the ground and feed it to Foxy.
“I’m usually a better catch.” Foxy’s greedy lips tickle my hand. “Whoa. Look who’s hungry…”
Skye brushes off her hands and pulls out a buffalo plaid blanket. “I am.”
“Me too. I could eat a horse.” Skye barks out a surprised laugh, and I realize what I just said. I give Foxy an apologetic pat. “Sorry, girl. Not really. It’s just a saying.”
Skye shakes her head. “Foxy may never forgive you.”
She lays the blanket on the grass and sits. Next out of the bag comes two sandwiches, two more apples, a small bag of chips, and two bottles of water.
I clap. “You brought a picnic.”
“Aye. Figured we’d get hungry.”
I sit, and she holds up one of the sandwiches. “Fancy a piece?”
“A piece? There’re two. Can I have the whole thing?”
She stares at me for a frozen moment, then bursts out laughing.
“What? If you want to save some, that’s fine, I guess. I’ll take a piece.”
“A piece is a sandwich,” she says that last part in her most American accent.
“Oh.” I take the piece and unwrap it. “I thought y’all spoke English here.”
“Well, ye heard wrong.” She smiles. “We speak Scottish. It’s like English, only when we blather on, it’s more interesting.”
We eat and enjoy the view. The loch is shimmering in the sunlight that has pushed through the clouds as the day has worn on.
In the far distance, a hazy mist covers the hills, some of the greenest I’ve ever seen, even through the fog, with just the occasional pop of yellow.
But the real beauty is Skye. I can’t take my eyes off of her.
At the same time, I’m trying really hard not to stare.
The light is catching the side of her cheek.
Her skin is so fair, it looks drawn on. It’s such a contrast to the red of her hair.
And her figure. I can’t say I wasn’t plenty distracted by her on the ride.
Her strong legs gripping the horse, her shoulders squared and her—
“So, what’s this movie called anyway?” Skye asks, interrupting my thoughts. For the best, really. If I’d kept going, I might not be able to get off this blanket without considerable embarrassment.
“The movie? It’s tentatively being called Love and the Loch Ness Monster.”
Skye smiles. “What’s it about?”
“It’s about…well… It’s about love and the Loch Ness monster.” I laugh.
I tell her the basic story, the one from the new pages.
Two brothers living with their old housekeeper until she dies, and they hire a new one, a young, beautiful woman.
Both brothers fall madly in love with her, but she doesn’t even really notice because of her obsession with the Loch Ness Monster.
Even explaining the new story with my brother sours my mood.
Ty Marshall. I can’t believe they cast him for the part.
I should walk, except I can’t. Not after the last few flops I’ve made.
This film has bones to it. My character has depth. It could mean awards, for all of us. I sit up and brush off my hands.
I can’t think like that. To make good art, you can’t think of the reception, not during creation. Not for me, anyway, but maybe that’s been part of my problem. Maybe I should give a little more thought to how my films will fit in the market.
“Hmm,” Skye says. “Sounds interesting. Are there any other characters in the film?”
I shake my head. “Not really. A few minor ones. They were hoping to cast some local extras. Want to be in a movie?” I waggle my eyebrows.
“No. Absolutely not.”
She says it so harshly, it takes me by surprise. She must notice my reaction, because she quickly says, “Not that being in the movies isn’t great. It’s fine, that’s your job. It’s just, all that…” She motions with her hand, and I have no idea what she means by all that. “It’s not for me.”
There’s a beat of silence before Skye goes on. “My mom was famous.” She looks away and swallows hard. “She chose a simple life, and I respect that. Not that I wouldn’t love a different job. Just not yours.”
I smile. “What do you want to do? Or, I mean, that sounds silly, like what do you want to be when you grow up? You’re already a grown-up.”
She looks off in the distance, her eyes focused on the water. “I want to write. I get paid to write instruction booklets, mostly for appliances. But one day I’d like to get paid to write my novels.”
“I’m sure you will. Are you working on anything right now?”
She pauses, her apple halfway to her mouth. “I’ve been tinkering with something new.”
“I’d love to read it sometime, whenever it’s ready for outsiders.”
She turns her blue eyes on me, and there is a softness to them that I want to pause and look at for hours.
We finish our lunch and ride back to the castle.
Skye hurries away once we get there, not even turning to look at me when I try to thank her for the ride.
She just throws a hand up over her shoulder.
Disappointment is bitter in my mouth. I had hoped, imagined, that after the ride, while we were tying up the horses, she might lean over to help me with my knot like she did on the picnic.
But this time, I would tilt her face to mine and kiss her soft rosebud lips. Not this time.
I check my phone and see I have more missed calls and a couple of texts. I click on the first one.
Natalie: Call me! NOW!
Oh no. This can’t be good.
I dial her number while moving around the field, trying to get the best service.
“Miles! I’ve been trying to reach you for days! Where have you been?”
“Sorry. Service is spotty out here to begin with, and I was way out there. I have some great ideas for my character, though.” Natalie is an old friend and the director of the movie we’re about to film.
“That’s great. Really, it is. We can hash all that out later. I’m calling about the YHF post. The redhead in the photo, that’s the owner’s daughter, isn’t it? Of the castle where we’re going to shoot for eleven weeks. You’re not dating her, are you?”
I think back on our trip to the bookstore, our conversations in the car, our horseback ride, and our picnic. Are we dating?
“Miles. It’s a yes or no question.”
“No…not really.” We hadn’t technically called any of them dates, and it seems like the answer Natalie wants to hear. A relieved sigh on the other end of the line tells me I’m right.
“Good. You can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Not that I want a serious relationship or anything. But a nice dinner with a woman I enjoy spending time with doesn’t sound half bad. I can have dinner and still focus on the film.
Natalie speaks clearly through the phone, shattering my imagined candlelit table, my fingers brushing Skye’s as I pass the wine. “Under no circumstance can you date Skye Ainslie.”