17. Chapter 17
Torin
The Proclaimers
Translation: Incredible musical duo from Scotland
I pace the length of my flat for what must be the tenth time, wearing a faint path into the rug between the beat-up sofa and the window. Every few steps I glance down at my phone, waiting for it to light up.
When it finally does, Beau’s message flashes across the screen.
Beau
On my way!
God, I’m anxious. I’m still shocked I invited him to spend the holidays with my family.
I’m pleased he agreed to come, but that just adds to my anxiety.
Because now there’s something to lose. I’ve only taken one guy home before, and that relationship ended badly enough that my sister still alternates between sympathetic and angry noises when his name comes up.
The memory surfaces uninvited: James sitting at our kitchen table pretending to care while my dad chatted about the farm.
What if that happens again? What if Beau turns out to be like James, happy to spend time with me while it’s convenient, happy to borrow my notes and my knowledge, then breaking things off when it’s time for him to go home?
I push the thought away, but another one quickly replaces it.
What if he sees where I grew up and looks down on me for it?
I haven’t seen his childhood home, but a guy with a trust fund probably didn’t spend his childhood wrestling disgruntled sheep out of the mud before school.
I pause in the middle of the room and force myself to breathe.
The air in the flat smells faintly of the coffee I made earlier, and the quiet hum of the radiator fills the silence while I examine my concerns in an attempt to set them aside.
First, there’s no reason to be nervous because Beau and I are not dating.
We are colleagues—friends, even—but nothing more.
He’s given me no indication to believe otherwise.
Other than agreeing to join me in the Highlands for the holidays…
and that one time we almost kissed… But I’m sure he only accepted my offer because it’s a better option than going to Ireland, much less being alone in Edinburgh.
He’s coming with me because of the learning opportunities. That’s all.
I take another breath and begin pacing again.
Second, I have no reason to think that he will condescend to me or my family.
No matter how different our means might be, Beau is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
With a face and physique like that, he could be an absolute prat and get away with it, but there doesn’t appear to be a mean bone in his body, except as a defense mechanism, one that I won’t be triggering again.
Another deep breath. Everything will be fine.
My phone buzzes.
Freya
Are you here yet??
Torin
Not quite. We’ll be on our way soon.
Freya
The hot American is driving you?
I frown at the screen.
Torin
How do you know he’s hot?
Freya
I didn’t, but thank you for confirming my suspicions
Torin
You really are the worst.
Freya
What’s his last name?
Torin
Fontenot. Why?
She doesn’t respond for another minute. I begin to worry. Finally, I see the typing bubbles come up again. She sends screenshots of Beau’s Instagram posts, including one of him shirtless on a boat, captioned, “Good times on Lake Travis.” There are so many abs.
Freya
Christ, he’s a looker. You’re sure he’s a historian? Looks like a model
I huff a quiet laugh. That had been my first thought, too. I’m not going to tell Freya the number of times I’ve imagined Beau in just a pair of Calvins. Or less…
Torin
I’m sure. He’s a giant nerd.
Torin
Who also has muscles.
Freya
LOTS and LOTS of muscles
Freya
You said he worked out, but fuck
Torin
OK, you can stop drooling over my colleague now.
Freya
Your HOT colleague
Torin
Fine. Yes, stop drooling over my hot colleague.
Freya
Jealous much?
She’s joking, but as I examine my feelings, I detect a hint of the green-eyed monster, so, of course, I dodge the question.
Torin
Beau just arrived. Leaving now. Please behave while he’s visiting.
Freya
I’ll do my best
Freya
But no promises
I should’ve known better than to ask her to keep it between the lines. Freya is entirely herself all the time and has made a study out of the myriad ways to push my buttons, and now she has a hot American historian to work with. The heat of anxiety returns to my chest.
I’m picking up my bags when I hear Beau knock. I grab the last one and head for the door. I have no intention of letting him inside—not when my flat looks like this. I don’t want him comparing my cramped little place to his. I open the door before he has a chance to knock again.
And immediately forget whatever I was thinking.
Beau fills the doorway, large and sexy, and I immediately think of Freya’s text.
She wasn’t wrong. He really is one hot colleague.
He’s wearing brown leather boots, jeans that fit every part of him perfectly, a dark gray coat, and a deep red scarf.
Perched on his head are reindeer antlers, complete with flashing red lights.
“Merry Christmas Eve!” he belts out.
“You too,” I say, trying not to smile at his combination of stylish and completely absurd.
He points to my bags. “Want any help? I know you’re more than strong enough to carry them yourself, but…”
“Sure, Blitzen.”
He laughs as I hand him the heaviest one. “I’m actually Dancer.”
“Oh?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Absolutely. One day you’ll witness my mad dance skills and understand.” He punctuates his claim with a wink.
“Looking forward to it,” I say, my tone making it clear I have serious doubts.
As we load my bags into the boot of his Range Rover, I have a fleeting mental image of him rolling his hips against me on a low-lit dance floor, and blood rushes south, but I get off the lustful thought train when I see how much stuff Beau already has in his car.
Packages are stacked against the back seat, and a large leather duffel is wedged in front of them.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“Oh.” He smiles sheepishly—an oddly appropriate expression given the number of sheep he’s about to meet in the Highlands, ones I hope he doesn’t try to ride.
“I’m crashing their holidays last minute and want to make sure I’m contributing to the festivities.
In addition to my sparkling personality, of course. ”
“My mother is going to love you so much,” I say. And she will, but I worry about how she and my dad will react to his obvious wealth. Arriving in a Range Rover with whatever posh items Beau has stuffed into those boxes might be intimidating for them.
He closes the back hatch with the press of a button, and we get in, Beau tossing his antlers into the back seat so he can fit his large frame into the car.
The heat comes on quickly when he starts the ignition, as does a loud recording of Wham!
singing “Last Christmas.” He fumbles for the volume knob and turns it down, blushing.
“Sorry,” he says as I chuckle.
“I expected nothing less.”
He puts the car in reverse, and even though there are something like one million camera angles showing on the various screens, he reaches a hand behind my seat and looks through the rear window as he backs out onto the street.
Heat curls low in my belly and not from the vents. My mind goes to The List. Puts hand behind the passenger seat to look back when reversing the car claims spot #5. I can’t explain why something so simple is such a turn-on, but somehow it makes Beau even hotter. Which is saying something.
He hands me his phone. “Mind putting the address in?”
I have half a mind to look at his camera roll to see what pictures he might have of himself that I haven’t seen before, preferably shirtless, but I pull myself together and type into the satnav. We drive in silence for a bit, and it’s making me squirm.
I’m trying to think of something to say, but Beau beats me to it, always the conversationalist. “So, tell me about your family.”
Fair request. He is about to meet them after all. “They’re…” I search for the right word and land on “boisterous.”
“Oh, come on,” he says, glancing at me. “You’ve got to give me more than that!”
“Well, be specific!” I say. “What do you want to know?”
“Alright,” he says and thinks for a second. “Are y’all close?” I love it when he says “y’all.” His accent always comes out a little more on that word.
“Aye. Freya and I text constantly, and I talk to my parents a few times a week on the phone. I went home almost every Sunday when I lived in Inverness, but I’ve only seen them once since moving to Edinburgh.” Then, quietly, I add, “I miss them.”
“Then I’m glad I’m the one taking you home. I got presents for your parents and sister, but I think delivering you will be the best gift I can give.” He smiles over at me.
“That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, voice smug. “I mean, who doesn’t like cheese?”
“You’re right though.” I chuckle. “They’ll be excited to see me. My mum sometimes sounds like she’s about to cry when we hang up the phone, so she’ll be beside herself. My dad isn’t as expressive, but he’ll be happy in his own way.”
“And Freya?” he asks.
“Oh, when we see each other, it’s always like we were never apart. I love my sister.”
“It sounds like they really love you, too,” he says, smiling over at me again. “I assume they were cool about you coming out?” He asks it casually, but I can hear the nervousness beneath the question.
“Aye, they were fine,” I say. “I came out when I was nineteen. I wanted to wait till I’d spent a year at university and established my place there before adding on a label.
I told Freya first, and she told me that everyone already knew and that I should just get on with it, which was confirmed when I told my mum.
Her response was, ‘Oh, I know, love. I’ve known since you were a toddler.
I’ve just been waiting for you to tell me. ’”
Beau chuckles and asks, “And your dad?”