12. Day Streaming
“So you just need me to drive around all day?” Josh asked.
“All day,” Gracie replied.
“Doing…what?”
“Anything you want, but the key is you have to be gone all day.”
“Oh! Josh!” May interjected. “Why don’t we take the kids to see all the Harry Potter sites while we’re here. We already told them we would.”
“Yea, sure, but hold on…why are you trying to get me out of the house?”
Gracie and May shushed him before looking around the corner of the drawing room and into the dining room where the other guests were finishing up their breakfasts.
“It’s for Avi,” May said.
“How is this for Avi?” Josh asked as he looked over at Avi who was sitting in innocent silence at the puzzle table.
“Avi needs to spend a little one-on-one time with one of the guests without any of the other guests noticing.”
Josh’s confused expression evolved into a revelatory grin.
“Sissy…you’ve got a little crush? That’s awesome! Who is it? Is it Mick!? That dude’s loaded. You get that guy to propose and you can keep Hawthorne Hall forever,” he said as May backhanded his chest.
“No, you baboon. She’s not into Mick, and even if she were, it would have nothing to do with his money.”
Josh gingerly rubbed his wounded chest.
“Well, if it’s not Mick, who is it?”
May and Gracie looked at Avi, who hesitantly replied, “Mr. MacKinnon.”
“Dane!? Me best chum?! My sister can’t date me best chum!”
“Shhhhhh!!”
“You can’t date me best chum!” he loudly whispered.
“Josh,” May said, “she has like three days to spend time with him before she heads back to the states!”
“Well, so do I!”
“Should I be jealous, right now?”
Josh paused for a moment and scanned their faces before answering, “Fine…I’ll do it…but only because you need this, Avi Hawthorne.”
“Thank you, Joshy.”
“Oh! Don’t you ‘Joshy’ me! Come on boys,” he said as he took Bree from May and headed out to the van.
“Have fun,” Gracie said to May as she followed her husband outside.
“Oh, I will…the kids don’t even like Harry Potter all that much. That’s all me.”
After May left the room with a gaping smile, Avi turned to Gracie and said, “Okay…so what’s next?”
Without answering, Gracie walked into the dining room. As she did, Avi stayed back but peered in quick enough to have her heart warmed when she noticed that everyone’s eggs were garnished with caramelized onions. They seemed to love them…except for maybe Mick who was eating them with great suspicion, combing every bite searching for any signs of salty, chunky mucus.
“Excuse me…Mr. MacKinnon…” Gracie said, causing Avi to instinctively pull her head back from the doorway and thrust her back up against the shielding wall that divided them.
“Aye, ma’am?”
“I’m so sorry to ask, but would you be able to help Josh run a few errands this morning? With the electricity off, the staff is extra pressed doing everything by hand or else I’d ask one of them to go.”
With hesitation and in the timbre of disappointment, Mr. MacKinnon replied in the affirmative. Avi couldn’t help but hope his disappointment stemmed from the fact that a day of errands meant a day away from her.
After a few moments, he turned the corner. Avi reach and grabbed his arm. She pulled him against the wall next to her and gestured for him to be quiet. Confused but seemingly elated to see her, Mr. MacKinnon quietly acceded.
“As for the rest of us,” Gracie continued, “we have much to do today. With everything that happened yesterday, we’ll be trying to combine all of yesterday’s original plans with today’s and just hope we’ll be able to fit it all in. We’ll start with a watercolor lesson…out front…that Chef Bartolomeo has volunteered to teach.”
Mick let out an audible and nervous gulp.
“After that we’ll play a friendly game of cricket followed by a round of nine pins…againout front,” she said loud enough so Avi would hear her in the drawing room. “Following the yard games, we’ll have a picnic…stillout front…before moving out back…where we have archery stations set up for each of you on the furthest northeastern acre of the estate.”
“Pardon me, Ms. Hawthorne,” Jack interrupted while dancing glances between Gracie and Thomas. “But will there be any down time today…for perhaps some…light reading?” he asked as he and Thomas held up their copies of Pride and Prejudice.
“Not until after dinner, unfortunately.”
“It’s alright,” Jada said consolingly to the depressed pair. “What better way to prepare for the novel than by doing the very things the Bennets would have done?”
“True,” Thomas said with a hopeful nod.
Having heard all she needed, Avi gave one more tug on Mr. MacKinnon’s arm before letting go, inviting him to follow her as she headed down the hallway and out the back door. As they hurried to put distance between themselves and the house, their pace went from an exuberant bout of speed walking to a lively jog and culminated in a competitive foot race.
Avi’s head start and short-stature quickness kept things competitive, but holding her dress as she ran limited the momentum she could generate with her arms. Plus, he was just outright faster. Over the last hundred yards before they reached the cover and concealment of the forest of oak and birch, Mr. MacKinnon had gained and extended a sizable lead. However, he’d also lost something in the process.
With quads cramping and lungs gasping for air, Avi bent down and picked up the small leather notebook that had fallen from Mr. MacKinnon’s coat pocket. She wasn’t about to look at its contents without his permission, but she was more than willing to have a little fun with it.
When he had reached the trees, he threw his arms in the air in celebration and said between wheezes, “Aye! With th’ strength ‘n’ speed…of his highlander ancestry…th’ winner…by a huge margin…is Dane Mac…”
Turning around, he was left utterly speechless. She took her time walking towards him with a coltish grin; waving his treasured notebook in motions of teasing victory.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked.
“Just something I found on the ground. Why? Did you want it?”
“Aye…a little.”
“Well then, you’re gonna have to earn it,” she said, only a few feet away from him and the woods.
“N’ how dae I dae that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking maybe…ten secrets would suffice.”
“Whit?”
“You heard me. You tell me ten secrets…and I’ll give you your book back.”
Mr. MacKinnon paused, then with his best poker face said, “One secret…”
“Five secrets.”
“Two secrets,” he shot back quickly.
“Hey! I came down five…you only budged one.”
“Aye, well…that’s yer problem.”
“Three secrets,” she chuckled.
“Three ‘tis.”
“But they have to be real…and…you can’t have ever told more than three people, or I’m not counting it.”
“Five people,” he said as she rolled her eyes. “Ah’m only joking. A’right. Ye got yerself a deal, bit we’ve gotta be walkin…ah’d feel weird if ye were starin’ at me whin ah tell ye mah secrets.”
“Lead the way,” she said as they began hiking through the dense English forest.
“A’right…ye ready fur secret number one?”
“Mhmm.”
“Oh! Watch yer head,” he said as he lifted a low branch for her to duck under.
“Mr. MacKinnon, I’m certainly capable…and you’re certainly stalling.”
“A’right,” he said as he let go of the branch and allowed its foliage to swing down into her face.
She spat a thread of web from off her lip and tried to look angry at him.
“Whit?”
“I thought you were a gentleman.”
“N’ ah thought ye were certainly capable.”
“A secret…now…or your book is gone forever,” she threatened as she pulled her arm back ready to throw it into the layered underbrush.
“Fine! Fine…th’ first secret is in that book ye’r holding. Open it,” he said as he stopped walking, causing Avi to stop just a few paces behind him.
“You sure? What if I read something that’s too personal? Isn’t there a specific page or something you want me to..?”
“Juist open it,” he said without turning around.
As she held the brown leather notebook in both hands and felt its cover made slightly damp by the morning dew, she couldn’t help but feel like she was encroaching on something sacred. Even though his words and cool demeanor gave her every permission, it took longer than she’d expected to give herself the go-ahead. When she finally was able to separate the cover from its secrets, she instantly became enamored with its contents and began foraging over every line of detail on each page before turning to the next.
“Whit’s yer face look like right now? Yer tryin’ tae fight back a laugh, ain”t ye?”
As if she hadn’t even heard his question, she asked, “You’re serious…less than three people have ever seen this?”
“Aye. Bonnie, mah mither ”afore she died, ‘n’ now ye.”
“This is…this is remarkable.”
Her warm response must have given Mr. MacKinnon the courage he needed to turn around and look through his work with her.
“Is that..?”
“Yer nephews? Aye. Ah made that the night o’ th’ fireworks.”
Each page was more a mural filled from edge to edge with pen and brown ink images, perfectly detailed and shaded with an intriguing mixture of styles containing elements of both rococo and art nouveau. The sheet that featured Kai and Devin curled up and sleeping in their Regency attire also included Mick and Ethel dancing, the Jane Gang, Kelly, Bonnie, Jack, and Thomas around a table sharing stories and champagne, and Mr. and Mrs. Kensington holding hands as they strolled amongst garden hedges.
Still, the page wasn’t so much a single scene as it was individual fragments placed together in an aesthetically pleasing collage. Moreover, her guests and nephews were not alone on the page. There were a handful of other subjects she’d never seen before, all dressed and made up like they were from the Georgian era but with significantly less detail given to their wardrobes. Avi turned towards the front of the book and found the same thing; unknown models, very detailed faces, but seemingly rushed Regency dresses and cutaway coats.
“So your secret is…you like to draw?”
“Ah paint. These are juist whit ah start with afore transferring them tae th’ canvas,” he said as he recommenced hiking.
“And only scenes from that era?”
“Aye.”
Sensing he’d started moving again, but too invested to look up from his notebook, Avi tried to blend artistic analysis, forest trudging, and conversation together, as she said, “And what is it you love so much about the Regency period?”
Mr. MacKinnon guffawed at her ridiculous question.
“What?” she asked, finally looking up from his art.
“Na…ye’d hate me if ah said it.”
“I doubt it. But say it and see…”
“A’right. Ah despise everything Regency.”
Avi felt like his words had just kicked and cracked her ribs. What did he mean he despised everything Regency?
“What do you mean you despise everything Regency? Why do you paint it, then? Why are you dressed that way? Why are you even here?” she interrogated him as she sped to catch up. “Weren’t you the one who said we should all get more into the era? Weren’t you the one who suggested we shut off the power, and the internet, and…”
“Which o’ those questions would ye like me tae answer first, Ms. Hawthorne?” he interrupted as he stopped and turned to stare into the depths of her irritated expression.
Avi was so flustered she couldn’t find the words to respond. Mr. MacKinnon resumed trekking as he answered all her inquiries with one unfulfilling sentence.
“Tis a social critique.”
“You’re a social critique,” she thought to herself before realizing it made no sense to say.
“That period was all aboot hiding one’s self. Women hid themselves as they wrote novels using men’s names. Everyone was conditioned tae put on th’ faces o’ propriety and self-control while they were absolute wrecks inside.”
“How could you possibly speak for everyone from two centuries ago?”
“The men,” he continued, ignoring her question and once again stopping to turn around and face her head-on, “pretended tae be gentlemen only tae cheat on their wives ‘n’ label it socially acceptable.”
Suddenly, Avi remembered his outburst from etiquette class. All this time she thought he had brought up infidelity to push their buttons and make their experience uncomfortable. It actually bothered him; severely even.
“Ye ‘n’ th’ others want tae act like th’ fowk ye’r dressin’ up as were sae romantic ‘n’ worthy o’ yer emulation…well ah’ve got a newsflash fur ye. Romance. Is. Faithfulness.”
His normally icey blue eyes burned into hers like two smoldering coals. “It’s faithfulness…being true; nothing else. All th’ accents and decorum…th’ elaborate suit coats and gowns…chocolates…roses…gifts…poetry ‘n’ songs…all that kin be faked by th’ unfaithful. Th’ one thing that can’t be faked is fidelity. So forgive me for not being a fan.”
He held her eyes captive for a few more moments before turning back to the trail and freeing them. They walked on in silence as Avi pondered over his words. His definition of romance was completely new to her, yet it was the only thing that made sense. She questioned why he’d want to enter a contest like the one he’d won, but the images in ink she held in her hands provided the answer.
“Ah’m sorry,” he eventually said, “if that all seemed a little over th’ top…bit it hits close tae home.”
The pain filled his every word to the point of overflowing. Avi stopped him with a firm but gentle clasp of his shoulder.
“How so?”
He stood as stoic as a statue refusing to budge.
“It’s alright. You can tell me.”
Without warning, he sat down on the grassy dirt right where he stood. Avi followed suit, not even showing the slightest concern about muddying her dress. Mr. MacKinnon seemed to survey the depths of his memories and mind for what he felt safe to reveal.
Seeing his struggle, Avi lightly said, “And if it helps, we can count this as one of your secrets.”
It worked. Mr. MacKinnon smiled the same smile she’d grown accustomed to never seeing him without, and must have found, in it, the edification to continue.
“Mah mither was in th’ hospital fur months ‘afore she died o’ cancer. Ah always thought mah faither was a good man, bit…one night, ah stopped by his house efter visiting her, ‘n’ there was a car parked outside his house ah’d never seen. Ah walked up the entryway…aboot to ring th’ bell whin ah saw through th’ window…him ‘n’ another woman. Ah burst through th’ door, told her tae git oot, ‘n’ just started screaming. Ah’d never felt that type o’ rage ‘afore…where ye feel almost out o’ body… th’ gobber’s lucky ah didnae start wailin’ on him, ‘cause ah might’ve never stopped. Ah haven’t spoken tae him since then, ‘n’ ah…ah haven’t seen him since th’ funeral.”
“I’m so sorry,” Avi said as she cautiously placed a hand on his back.
“Tis fine…ah mean…‘tis not, bit…” he said with a laugh, “bit there ‘tis again…wearin’ the same Regency mask ah complain aboot. We’re all juist pretending…hidin’ a piece o’ ourselves, aren’t we?”
“I’m not so sure,” Avi said.
“Na?”
“Well, what about the Kensingtons…what are they hiding?”
“Ah dinnae…fear o’ livin’ life withoot their kids, mibbie…”
“And the Jane Gang?”
“Th’ fear o’…life away from everythin’ they’ve known th’ last four years.”
“Kelly?”
“Fear o’ bein’ alone,” he said with certainty.
“Jack and Thomas?”
“Fear o’ finding no meaning.”
“And Mick?”
“Th’ fear o’ fading.”
“So…fear?” she asked tentatively.
“Ah suppose.”
“What about me? What fear am I hiding?”
He studied her closely.
“Yer afraid…o’ bein’ Avi.”
She fought with all her strength against the tears that pushed to surface. She didn”t even know that until he”d said it. How could he? And knowing that, how could he have any interest whatsoever in a woman who felt that way about herself?
“Bit lucky fur me,” he said with a secretive grin, “ye might be afraid o’ bein’ Avi, bit yer terrible at hidin’ her.”
She melted. She pined. She withered and died for a fraction of a second but clung to life for him.
“And…why does that make you lucky?” she asked, fishing for further captivation while knowing full well the risks of receiving.
“Because…Avi Hawthorne…ah…”
Suddenly, Mr. MacKinnon’s eyes were pulled away and stretched wide with fear as Avi heard rustling in the bushes behind her.
“Ah need ye…tae stand up slowly,” he said as he kept his eyes fixed on whatever was approaching, “…n’ walk this way with me.”
“Is it a bear…a wolf? Are either of them even native to England?”
Avi wasn’t sure, but as she incrementally stood and then turned to find out, she was both surprised by her discovery and amused by his apparent cowardice.“Mr. MacKinnon…it’s only a doe,” Avi said as she took a step in the red deer’s direction.
“Whit are ye doin”?” he asked with urgency as he pulled her back by the hand. “Yer gonna take a hoof tae th’ head! That doe’s got a fawn. Trust me, we dinnae want tae stay here. They’re territorial this time o’ year.”
Mr. MacKinnon let Avi go in front of him as if to stand as a shield between her and danger. Avi rose to her tiptoes to try and get in a few last looks at the majestic animal and her barely visible brood, but Mr. MacKinnon blocked her line of sight as he marched them both away to safety. When she recognized that resistance was futile, Avi reopened his notebook and began reexamining its leaflets. When the animals headed off in the other direction, she sensed Mr. MacKinnon’s vitals return to normal and found it appropriate to continue their conversation.
“So…” she said waiting for a response.
“Sae whit?”
“Secret number three…”
“Secret number three? Ah’m pretty sure ah’ve already told ye aboot ten secrets in th’ last ten minutes.”
“Not quite. I believe it’s two by my count.”
“Whit…are ye counting in dog years?”
Mr. MacKinnon was already blushing before the last syllable escaped his lips. The pair shared an unseen cringe over the worst joke they’d ever heard as the principle of human decency forced him to apologize.
“Sorry ‘boot that…Nae one o’ mah best jokes, ah suppose.”
“I’d certainly hope not. But I’ll forget you said it as soon as you make good on our agreement.”
“Fine…secret number three…let’s see…”
Before he could summon a secret to tell, Avi came to a sudden halt, causing Mr. MacKinnon to collide with her back.
“Whit are ye doin”? Ah’d feel more comfortable if we kept moving,” he said, as he looked around to make sure the doe was still safely out of sight.
“Is this me?” Avi asked as she looked back at him with a flattered smirk.
Mr. MacKinnon flirtatiously rested his chin on her shoulder to see the image she was referring to.
“Where?” He asked, but something told her he already knew the answer.
Across the back of one page and the front of an adjacent, were nearly a dozen images; each of Avi from the neck up and all with slight variations in expression. Hers were the only depictions in the entirety of his work without even a hint of Regency regalia. But other than that, they were exactly what she’d hoped to find upon discovering his secret talent.
“If ye have tae ask, then na.”
“You sure about that? And why are there so many?” she teased.
“Cause ah’m a creeper, o’ course.”
“Well, obviously. The fact that there’s even one portrait of me in here drawn without my consent is a testament to that. But even a creeper wouldn’t have drawn five, six, seven, eight, nine…ten images of one person unless said creeper felt some degree of affection towards said person.”
“Said person…” he said.
“Yes, said creeper?”
“Did ye want tae hear secret number three or nae?”
“Very well.”
“N’ then…ah git mah book back!”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I made that deal before I’d realized you’d stolen my image and likeness without compensation.”
“Mibbie ah’ll juist throw ‘em out then…”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Ah might…”
“Then how could I keep them forever?”
He studied her for a moment and said, “Ye want ‘em?”
“Of course.”
“Ten pounds…”
“Is that all they’re worth to you?” she said with sprightly anger as she threw the book into his chest.
“Na…bit ah got it back,” he teased, holding it up to her face.
Avi lunged for the notebook, but he pulled it away before she could even graze a finger across the leather exterior.
“Now…Did ye want tae hear it or nae?”
“Yes.”
“Then keep walking,” he said.
As they climbed over a fairly large boulder jutting out from the trail, Mr. MacKinnon made good on the final installment of his three payments.
“This counts ‘cause ah’ve only told one other person…well…ah tried tae tell one other person this…”
“Bonnie?” Avi asked.
“Aye…th’ reason ah called things off with her is that she hated this,” he said holding up his notebook. “Really, she hated anythin’ that didnae fetch a profit…mah art, mah hunting, mah humor…”
“What? She didn’t like your dog years joke?”
“Ah’m tryin’ tae be serious.”
“Right…sorry.”
“She hated everythin’ aboot me except th’ things that aligned wit’ her vision o’ whit ah ought tae be. Which…wisn’t much o’ me.”
“Then why do you think she has such a hard time letting go of you?” Avi asked.
“Mibbie…mah body?”
“I’m serious.”
“Eh…ah dinnae know, ‘n’ honestly…ah dinnae care. She’ll move on ‘n’ find whit she’s really lookin’ fur.”
“And what about you? What are you really looking for?”
“Och na…ah gave ye three. If ye want anymore, it’ll cost ye. Secret fur secret.”
“Alright…what do you want to know?”
“If ah knew whit tae ask, it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “Let’s see…okay, I’ve got one. You remember the last puzzle piece you snuck into my hand a few nights ago?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I have such a powerful photographic memory…”
She didn’t.
“...that I could point out that very same puzzle piece amongst the other sixteen thousand…or whatever it was…pieces.”
“Ye have such a powerful photographic memory that ye can’t even recall fur certain how many pieces that puzzle wis, eh?”
“Are you saying I’m lying?”
“Aye.”
“I’m serious! If we were up at the house I could point it out to you right now.”
“I didnae say ye were lyin’ aboot that…”
“What am I lying about, then?”
“Why ye could point it oot.”
She shot him a relaxed smile completely comfortable in the fact that he knew exactly why she could identify it amongst all the others.
“Your turn,” she said.
“Ah’m afraid o’ centipedes. Yer turn.”
“No!”
“Aye.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Why nae?”
“There’s no way I’m one of only three people who knows that about you.”
“Och jobby…ah forgot aboot that rule.”
“Try again.”
Just before he could, they came across the same stream that ran by the house.
“Whit ye think…should we follow it on back tae th’ house, or should we ford it?”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Mmm…judgin’ by th’ sun…nae even eleven yet.”
“We should be fine to follow it…as long as we don’t follow it all the way to the front. Now, for the last time, would you kindly stop stalling?”
“A’right…this one ah’ve never told anyone…bit ah secretly…kinda hope that mibbie…”
“What?”
“...that ye’d consider hirin’ me…ye know…if a position like art teacher or archery instructor ever opened up. Ye know…sae ah could make some money while doin’ whit ah’m good at. ‘N’ then mibbie…we could also…dae stuff like this.”
“Well,” she said, “Hawthorne Hall does have an extremely rigorous vetting and hiring process…”
“Helena wis a dog walker! ‘N’ Herb wis a roadie fur an Irish punk band.”
“But…” she interrupted, “if you have a resume, I’d be happy to look it over.”
Mr. MacKinnon opened to a random page and held up the notebook to remind her of his relevant and impressive qualifications.
“Mmm…you may be overqualified for the position….but we’ll be in touch.”
For a moment, she almost forgot that in less than a week, there’d be no art teacher, no archery instructor, no chef, no Helena…no Hawthorne Hall. It would go back to being Greenford Park, and she would go back to the States, sinking back into the roles of forlorn bookshop owner and introspective mute.
As they followed the careening brook out from the concealment of the forest, Avi felt like Bambi’s mother entering the meadow, about to be picked off by the huntress, Bonnie. She just had to keep reminding herself that her fears were unfounded. Gracie had everything under control, and as long as she and Mr. MacKinnon were back indoors by noon…maybe even one…the rest of the guests would never be any the wiser.
While being out in the open came with some anxiety, branching off of the narrow trail came with a silver lining: they no longer needed to walk in a single file line. Seizing the opportunity, Mr. MacKinnon burst to her side and stood gallantly between her and the slothlike currents of the peaceably harmless stream.
“Sae…ye wanna keep playing? Any more secrets?”
“Yea…I’m forced to sell Hawthorne Hall, and after that, I’ll never see you again,” she thought to herself.
“Mmm…not really,” she said aloud.
“Come on…there’s got tae be something…”
Instantaneously, an image of the library’s hidden room came to her mind.
“Alright. But it’s not a secret I can tell you…it’s one I have to show you.”
Mr. MacKinnon nervously gulped then playfully smiled. “Why, Ms. Hawthorne…ah hardly know ye…”
Finally catching the innuendo, Avi’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped and her face flushed. She both laughed and yelled at him as she shoved him with all the force her tiny frame could summon, forgetting his proximity to the creek. With one hand, he held the small leather book above his head, and with the other, he reached for Avi’s; less to prevent himself from falling and more to exact his riverine revenge. When all was said and done, Avi was left kneeling on dry land not even trying to conceal the snorts of her guffaws, while Mr. MacKinnon, like a breech Achilles, sat submerged in water; save the sliver of his hand that preserved the artwork.
He rose from the stream like the creature from some black-and-white horror movie, dispassionately staring into her soul for the entirety of his ascension.
“Ye gonna help me?”
“No,” she said between bouts of loud laughter. “You’ll pull me in.”
“Ah’m gonna pull ye in either way, ye might as well be th’ good person ah know ye are ‘n’ help me ”afore ye go under.”
Avi stood to her feet and backed away slowly as Mr. MacKinnon leaped out of the creek with ease. She raced him back to the forest. This time the excessive weight of his waterlogged pants gave her the advantage, and as soon as she made it, she used the wide base of an oak as her shield. He tried to grab at her, but she was able to match each of his movements in a well-improvised strategically defensive dance. Due to the stalemate she’d created, Mr. MacKinnon had no choice but to make his proposal for a mutual surrender.
“A’right listen…ah’ll make ye a deal.”
“No way. You’ll break it and throw me in!”
“Ah made good on mah other deal, did ah nae? Even though ah already had th’ book…”
“Alright. Go on…”
“Ah promise…ah won’t throw ye in…if ye give me a big ol’ apologetic hug.”
“You’re soaked!”
“N’ ye’ll be too…but ye’ll be far more soaked if ah throw ye in.”
Avi didn’t need to debate hugging him. The answer was yes. If he had been on fire and made the same demands, she would have agreed wholeheartedly, but she wanted him to think she was thinking about it.
After a long pause, Avi conceded, “Alright…but here are the conditions of my surrender: first…it has to be out there in the sun, so I can dry off quickly.”
“Ah too would appreciate that,” he said, dripping and uncomfortable under the forest’s shade.
“And second…no more than three seconds.”
When she said it, three seconds didn’t sound like much, but after counting it out in her head, she realized she’d made a terrible mistake.
“Deal,” he said as he marched away from the oak and out into the sun-touched field.
She followed like a courageous prisoner; head held high in dignity on the eve of execution. When she was close enough, he flared his eyebrows in Ethel Lancaster fashion and pulled her into his chiseled and toned torso. His white, wet, and now translucent linen shirt revealed his chest and abs tensed and flexing, fighting the frigid cold of his sopping clothes.“Three,” she heard him say as he pulled away and sauntered in the direction of the mansion house.
“That was it? Why did I say three seconds? Why didn’t I say ten or ten trillion?”
She had hardly any time to enjoy his strapping biology, but as she looked down and felt the soaked fabric of her dripping dress, she remembered why she’d said three.
“Sae,” he said as she rushed to catch up with him, “where’s this secret ye wanted tae show me?”