Gavin’s nodding like it’s true. “You can borrow a jumper if you fancy going.”
Rory heads for the door. “Hope to see you all there.”
“Don’t let the heat out,” Douglas calls.
“Love you, too, mate,” Rory calls back, before slipping outside and shutting the door swiftly.
Douglas doesn’t seem to think anything of this. He sips his tea, then looks at Gavin. “So, you’ve lit the boiler? Because that tap was cold as ice.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GAVIN
Callieand I make it home not too long after Rory left, and we find his snowmobile waiting in front of my house.
“Who’s that?” she asks, glancing from the vehicle to me. “The doctor?”
I don’t love the reminder of how she sees Rory, so wonderful and capable. She knows his name. She could use it. “Aye. Likely needs a word with me.”
I knew he did. He’d called me a few times while I was working on the boiler, but my hands were busy. The look he gave me was telling. It’s why we got out of there so fast, but Elephant and Piggie need to be put away first.
“Douglas seems lonely.”
I laugh. “He isn’t.”
She dismounts and takes Piggie’s reins to lead her into the barn. “How do you know?”
“The man’s social calendar is more full than mine.”
Callie stops walking, but Piggie doesn’t. The horse passes her, knowing exactly where she’s supposed to go. “That Grinch of a man?”
“He grumbles here and there, but he’s not all that bad.”
Callie pops a hand on her hip. “We did not speak to the same man today, evidently.”
She helps me remove the horses’ saddles and hang up the tack, then brushes them down. It’s not a quick process, but we move through it smoothly together. It must be like riding a bike in some ways, because Callie made it clear it’s been a while since she’s ridden, yet she was a natural.
I don’t know if Rory is here because he needs something or because he’s bored and wants to meet Callie, but either way, he’s waiting in my house right now.
“This might be sacrilegious since I’m standing on British soil, but you don’t happen to have hot chocolate, do you?”
I shoot her a glance over my shoulder as we trudge across the snow-covered lawn toward the house. Frigid air bites at my skin, making it feel tight and dry. “Sacrilegious?”
“Don’t you guys worship tea?”
Americans are so odd. “I think I have some, aye. We do appreciate chocolate too.”
“Oh, trust me. I know,” she says with feeling.
“Is that another thing we’ve done right?”
“Cadbury, my good man,” she says with a horrid attempt at an English accent.
A laugh escapes from my chest. “Ah yes. The Curly Wurly.”
“That’s just the beginning,” she mutters.
I push open the back door and stomp the snow from my boots before toeing them off near the bench. Callie does the same and follows me into the living room in her borrowed wool socks.
