My cheeks flame.
No,my entire bodyflames. I’m a dry field in a lightning storm and one match lit me up entirely. My humiliation is complete.
Was he not sending me signals?
“Sorry, I’m not…” He clears his throat. “I don’t kiss tourists.”
I feel slapped. “Why not?”
He looks slapped now. Has no one ever asked him that before? He dips his head sheepishly, taking another step back, like maybe enough distance will make me disappear. “I’m not the fling type. Sorry if you misunderstood. I thought we were just having a chat.”
And pressing his knee against my leg, and offering to walk me outside, and walking with me to my hotel, and looking down at me sweetly…but sure, I’m the one sending the wrong signals here. Anger swirls with humiliation like a twister within my body, and I want nothing more than to disappear.
“Great. Merry Christmas, William Wallace.”
He looks momentarily confused, but I don’t wait for him to speak again. I turn on my heel and leave him behind.
So far, Scotland sucks.
CHAPTER TWO
CALLIE
The blaring trillof the alarm bleeds through my sleepy haze. I reach for my phone and click it off. Sunlight glares through the window into my room, and I squint through it, pushing into a seated position. I spent half of the night awake—thank you, jet lag—and finally got back to sleep as the first dregs of light began to peek through the curtains this morning.
When my phone immediately starts blasting the alarm again, I pick it up and see that it’s not an alarm at all, but my sister Luna calling.
I swipe to answer. “Hey. Good morning.”
Her voice sounds far away through the speaker. “I figured that’s what happened.”
“What?” My throat is dry, my voice groggy with sleep.
“You slept in.”
“No.” I rub my eyes, yawning. “My alarm just got me up.”
“You slept in, Cal,” she repeats. “Gavin’s waiting for you downstairs. But don’t stress. He’s super nice. I’ll let him know the jet lag got you.”
My mind spins. I pull my phone back and look at the time. “Nine-twenty?! I was supposed to meet him at eight!”
“He isn’t mad,” she says. “He’s worried, actually. He tried to get the hotel to check on you, but they said they wouldn’t bother the guests and we didn’t know your room number. At least you know they protect your privacy at this place.”
I jump out of bed, but the blanket wraps around my ankle, pulling me back. I yank, falling on the floor, and give my knee a nasty bump. “I need to go.”
“Okay, but one more thi?—”
“Luna! I have to go!” I screech, pulling myself free. My heart is racing. Luna set up this ride with Hamish’s cousin to get me from Inverness to the small town where he lives so I wouldn’t have to rent a car and drive in the snow. Something to do with not getting stuck on their tiny winding roads the way she did once. Never mind that it’s totally dry out there. Now this stranger is downstairs waiting—has been waiting—for over an hour. Mortification doesn’t begin to cover it.
To say nothing for the dried drool crusted to my cheek.
“Right,” she says. “Call me when you get to the house.”
“I’llsee youat the house,” I remind her. We’re both driving there today. Granted, if she left on time, I’m about six hours closer, but still. “Bye!”
We both hang up, and I move into turbo mode, throwing on the first thing I can find that’s warm over my leggings. I stuff my feet into boots and run my fingers through my hair while tossing things in my bag. There’s no time to shower, no makeup, no space to tame the short, wavy mess my hair frizzed into overnight.
The pillow indents across my face are especially classy, but I don’t have time to wait for them to recede.
