Chapter 14 Skye
SKYE
The world is too bright. I must’ve slept in. Checking the time, I see it’s already after six. No. No. No.
I fly out of bed, the head rush that comes with it making me instantly regret my swift movements.
Putting on clothes at a more measured pace, I try to show my hangover that I respect it, I will nurture it, and then it can kindly leave.
I don’t have a lot of time to write before my chores and then meeting Miles.
How much did Elsie and I put away last night?
The end of the night comes back in small flashes. Miles walking me to my room. Oh Lord… Did I take my trousers off in front of him?
The rest of the night is pretty fuzzy, though.
I make my way to my writing library, going over the scene I want to get down this morning.
Since I only have a short amount of time, I turn it into a pomodoro session.
Twenty-five minutes later, I got a decent amount of the scene written.
I stand to stretch, looking out the window at the horse barn, the roof catching the first rays of sun.
I’m about to leave to tend to the chickens when movement out the window catches my eye.
Miles is out there in running shorts and a long-sleeved fitted shirt that hugs his muscles in a way that is almost indecent this early in the morning.
But he’s not alone. Next to him is Ava, her dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail.
She’s in sleek black leggings and a pink sports bra.
Not one ounce of fat jiggles as she runs—well, except in the bra.
I look away and try to ignore the sting of jealousy that hits me like a slap to the face.
They’re just running together. What is wrong with me? It must be hangover brain.
At the door, I slip into my wellies and throw on my coat.
Off I tromp, around the castle toward the chicken coop.
They’re always my first stop. Get the worst out of the way.
As I’m rounding the corner to the coop, Miles and Ava come running toward me.
Ava is laughing at something, her pearly white teeth gleaming in the morning light like some villainess in a Disney flick, or maybe I’m projecting.
They slow down, and I tuck my hair behind my ears.
I should’ve put on makeup or at least run a brush through my hair.
Ava and Miles are sweaty from their run, but they glisten more than anything.
Miles looks particularly attractive this morning, his eyes bright and focused directly on me.
It feels like he can see into my soul. Heat floods my cheeks.
“Good morning, Skye.” He smiles. The morning suddenly feels warmer.
“Madainn mhath,” I say with a small smile.
Ava grabs both of my arms. I’m so surprised, I immediately jump back. “Will you say that again? Does that mean good morning?”
Her voice is so high with excitement that it pierces right to the core of my hangover. I resist the urge to grab my head. “Aye. Madainn mhath.”
Ava repeats it a few times under her breath. “You know, Skye, I’d love to pick your brain about…well, about being Scottish. Are you busy right now?”
“I have to feed the chickens and tend to the cows. As well as some other odds and ends to take care of.”
“Oh, okay. What about later? We have some stuff to do this morning, but I’m free this afternoon.”
I look to Miles. We have plans, but maybe he doesn’t want Ava to know about it.
Examining his square jaw, it comes back to me in a flood of memories that bring a burning sensation to my cheeks.
My arms around Miles’s neck. I tried to seduce him in my room last night—Miles, with that twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
I clearly remember now, he wouldn’t kiss me because I’d been drinking.
My heart warms at the thought. I’ve never hung out with anyone so… thoughtful in that way.
Guys I’ve been with in the past are more likely to offer to help yank off your pants than suggest you should slow down.
Turns out respect is incredibly hot. Honestly, it makes me want to try again, stone cold sober, and see what Miles says.
I’m replaying the feeling of his hands on my waist when Ava jars me out of my thoughts.
“Will this afternoon work?”
Miles shakes his head. “No. Skye and I have a research trip this afternoon.”
“What kind of research? Maybe I can tag along.”
Miles and I both say, “No,” at the same time.
Miles puts a hand on Ava’s shoulder, and I feel a swift kick to the gut. I’m usually not this jealous of a person, but Ava is so perfect. “It’s really specific to my character. I’ll explain. Let’s go in and let Skye get to her duties.”
Miles leads Ava inside and throws me a wink over his shoulder. I float back to the chickens.
The rest of the day takes eons. I write some more, the words easily flying from my fingers.
I could write an entire novel just on the warm feeling I get from Miles Casey winking at me in his tight, sweaty shirt and running shorts that hit him at the muscular part of his thigh.
When the afternoon arrives, I pick out a cute black top with buttons up the front and a pair of tight gray jeans.
We meet out front by the Jeep, but I have a thought. “Let’s ride bikes instead.”
Miles gives me a hesitant smile. “Bikes? Okay.”
I get out my yellow beauty and then pull out my dad’s bike for Miles. They’re around the same height, so it fits perfectly.
Miles winces a bit at the first few pedals.
“It’s a bit of a ride, but nothing too strenuous,” I assure him. “You okay with that?”
He nods. “Yep. I’m good. I’m getting into running again, so I’m just a little sore. Or a wee bit sore.”
I laugh, but his accent is getting better.
“As soon as I warm up, I’ll be fine. This is great.”
We ride into the gray and golden afternoon, the wild wind in my hair and the most handsome man at my side. It’s like a dream.
After a while, I pull onto the side of the road near Loch Ness and get off my bike. Miles follows suit.
“It’s better to walk the bikes from here so we don’t ride into a tree or run into a root.”
Miles nods, and we start off on the trail.
“This is one of my favorite places.”
The trees blow in the slight wind. And for a few moments, we are silent, listening to the lapping water of the loch, the rustle of the leaves, and our bike chains turning.
“How’s the writing?” Miles asks.
The morning was extremely productive, even with my lack of time. I wrote over twelve-hundred words in the blink of an eye, fueled by coffee and our near kiss the night before. Then, when I went back to it, I got another thousand or so. I smile. “Good.”
“What’s your story about?”
I sigh. What is my story about? Love, loss, fear.
You.
But instead of saying any of that, I say, “Oh, just you know, murdery stuff.”
Miles laughs, and it booms against the trees and disappears into the mist hanging over the water.
I swiftly change the subject, not wanting to lie to him anymore. “How’s the character development going?”
“Good. I think. I thought I had a pretty solid handle on it, but now that more of the cast is here, I’m not as confident anymore.”
I’m not quite sure what he means, and it must be written all over my face, because he goes on.
“It won’t just be about what I think the character is.
It’s going to be affected by all of our relationships and how we play with or against each other in the scene.
” He sighs. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that, but it’s happening so…
not a lot I can do. Got to jump in headfirst. Truth be told, the whole being in front of the camera thing is my least favorite part. ”
“Isn’t that the main part of your job?”
Miles laughs again. “Yep.”
I nod. “What’s with you and that Ty guy?”
Miles looks surprised. “Is it that obvious we have beef?”
“You have beef?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. Beef? “Like for supper?”
Miles laughs. “Sorry. It means we have history. Not a super pleasant one.”
“Oh, what a funny saying.”
Miles laughs. “You’re one to talk. While I was traveling, someone said to me, "A pretty face suits the dish-cloot.” He says it in an honestly great Scottish accent—better than yesterday’s, even. “I still don’t know what that means.”
I laugh. “That’s a classic.”
“What’s it mean?”
I look up at the clouds, which are getting darker by the minute, searching for how to explain. “It basically means that if you’re attractive, it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.”
“So they were kind of insulting my fashion choices.” He laughs. “But I get it, I think. Like Marilyn Monroe in a potato sack.”
“Exactly.”
It was smooth, but Miles essentially changed the subject from Ty Marshall.
It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about it, so I don’t bring it up again.
The sound of the water’s gotten louder. I veer off the trail and to my favorite spot.
A little clearing with a massive willow tree, its leaves a mixture of deep yellow and some green stragglers that can’t quite let go of summer.
Miles smiles. “This is just like in your Instagram photo.”
He’s looked at my Instagram? I know exactly what photo he means. I usually don’t post photos of myself, or at least of my face anyway, but even I could see I looked bonnie in that one. I’m shocked Miles has seen it.
There’s a fallen log under the tree, and I take a seat. Miles joins me, and we look out at the water. “This is the best place on the loch. Well, my favorite, anyway.”
He nods. “I can see why. It’s gorgeous.”
Mist clings to water. It’s hauntingly beautiful. “This is where I saw Nessie.”
Miles sucks in a breath next to me, and it’s so cute I almost laugh. “Really?”