Shoving up to a seated position, my entire spine is stiff, and my neck is on fire. The angle it was positioned in all night was evidently the wrong choice.
Gavin pushes through the kitchen door and stalls, his eyes on me. “You’re awake, then.”
“Yes. Kind of.” My back is bent sideways while I massage my neck. “Slept weird.”
He cringes. “You were out cold. I figured it was best not to rouse you.”
I nod, then immediately regret it. “How are the roads?”
Gavin’s lasting cringe gives away his answer before he speaks. “It doesn’t look good out there. Roads will be shut until tomorrow, at least.”
My face drops into my hands.
“Could be worse, aye? You’ve got your very own Scottish tour guide.”
Guide to what? His house? Besides, the man doesn’t want that job title. He probably doesn’t want to be saddled with our entire family, let alone a single woman who tried to maul him the first night she met him. “I’m going to shower.”
“Fantastic.” He smiles, his short beard shifting over his lips. “Then we’ll have breakfast.”
“Are you evernotcheerful?” I thought Scots were supposed to be moody and grumpy, not walking balls of sunshine. There’s no reasonable cause for why his bright smile sets me on edge. It’s a little intense this soon after waking up.
“Of course.” Gavin crouches at the fire and pokes around a little, then rises again and hangs the poker on the stone wall. He doesn’t elaborate, so I escape.
My attic room has a chill to it. A shiver runs over my skin as I sort through my suitcase for clean clothes. By the time I’m out of the shower, my brain has spiraled to an unforeseen low. Frost covers the window, making it difficult to discern anything other than blobs of snow-covered trees and buildings in the midst of the still-falling snow. It’s a torrential nightmare of white with no escape, and I’m trapped with Buddy the Elf.
My phone rings, and I practically dive for it. My stomach falls when I see my best friend’s name across the front instead of Luna’s. Not that Idon’twant to speak to Bekah—I just want to hear from Luna. Even though logic persists, telling me Luna can’t get through the closed roads today, some small part of me hoped she would call to say she would get as close as possible.
“Hi, Beks.”
“I want to hear every tiny detail,” she says quietly. “Are the men like Jamie Fraser?”
I think of my concierge that first night at the hotel and his overgrown mustache. I intentionally do not think about the man somewhere downstairs right now. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Pity.”
“Says the woman with a serious boyfriend.”
“I meant pity foryou.”
I glance at the time and do the math. It’s midnight in California. “You didn’t close tonight?”
“No. Peter has a faculty thing, so I’m on my own tonight.”
Bekah works at the same Italian fusion restaurant I do. We’re open until midnight, and we both prefer closing shifts because they bring in the best tips. She’s dating one of the professors in my psychology program. I was worried it would be uncomfortable after they first got together last year, but we keep things professional at school and friendly at home—the exact opposite of Kayla and her psychotic control issues.
“Well, I’m snowed in right now,” I tell her. “But the house is incredible—it’s all stone—and we’re tucked into the Scottish Highlands. I’ll take pictures when I can open the door again. You won’t believe this place, Beks. It’s unreal.”
“It sounds dreamy. How’s Luna?”
“Not here yet. That’s the downside of the storm. She’s stuck on the other side of it.”
“Who are you there with?”
“You know how my brother-in-law’s best friend has family in Scotland, and we’re staying with that family?”
“Yeah,” she says, drawing the word out.
“Well, that family is one man.”
