Instrumental Christmas music plays in the lobby as I leave my key with the teen manning the desk. Frigid air bites at my skin when I push through the double set of doors and step into the sunlight. A deep green sedan is parked on the streetbetween the hotel and the pub, and a familiar-looking man gets out of the driver’s side.
As soon as I catch eyes with William Wallace, I do an about-face and walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. The very last thing I need right now is another run-in with the man I tried to maul last night in the middle of my jet lag stupor, especially while looking like I spent a night in the drunk tank. Which is unfair, since I only had water.
“Callie!” a man calls behind me.
Oh, thank all that is holy. That must be my ride, since no one else in Scotland knows my name. I stop and turn back slowly. Maybe he can block me from William Wallace, and I can escape without—what the holly berries?Why is William Wallace coming toward me, calling my name?
“Callie,” he says again, a little breathless.
I’m stunned into silence. Breath clouds before me, and I do nothing to close my mouth.
“May I take your case?” he asks.
Take my—is this a sick joke? First, he’s acting like he knows me. Second, he’s acting like I should understand why he knows me. He reaches for the handle to my suitcase, but I pull back, clutching it against my leg until the metal digs into my thigh. Is this a weird scam? Hit on a girl in a pub, reject her, then act like nothing happened the next morning to lull her into an uneasy sense of trust?
Well, he hasn’t met Callie Winter yet. I’m no easy target.
Except when it comes to Thin Mints and rosy-cheeked Girl Scouts.
But this man is neither of those things. “No.”
His brow pulls tight. “No?”
I gesture between the two of us. “What’s going on here?”
He checks his watch, then allows the sleeve of his jacket to fall again. He’s in the same dark coat from last night over a sweater and jeans. His beard is trimmed, his light brown hairneatly styled, and he looks like he slept soundly. “We’re a wee bit behind schedule. Best we get on the road, eh?”
I shake my head and stare at him, like it could make him go away. But his words lodge in my brain, clearing the haze.Thisis my ride. Why, universe? Why me?
“You’re Gavin Mackenzie,” I say.
He shifts from one leg to the other. “Aye.” His blue eyes narrow slightly. “You knew that fine last night.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t.” But he thinks I did. Reality crashes like a tidal wave. I thought he was a handsome stranger in a pub, but he knew exactly who I was. Somehow, he knew the woman coming to stay at his house for three weeks, to sponge off his generosity, was trying to get fresh with him on the street after a mildly friendly conversation.
Maybe that explains why he walked me out.
But there were still those othersigns. The knee against my leg. The way he looked in my eyes. I have kissed a lot of frogs, and I know how to read signs. There was some mutual attraction last night…right?Right?!
“Luna didn’t send you a snap of me?” he asks.
He knows my sister’s name. If I had any lingering doubts, they’re gone now. “Nope. I’m guessing she sent you a picture of me.”
He runs a hand over his short beard. “Aye. A few.”
Humiliation fills me anew, but there’s nothing I can do to change the way things went down last night or how I’ve made him wait an hour and a half for me this morning, so I pull my suitcase past him and head for the green sedan. If he’s my ride to the cottage, I want to get on the move.
The faster we get there, the faster I can wring my sister’s neck.
Gavin swoops in right when I reach the trunk of his car and lifts my bag. I move around to the passenger side and settle in. His car is nice. It smells faintly like he does, earthy and cleanand reminiscent of a tree, but I don’t know which one. “Sorry I overslept. I’m usually punctual, but the time change got to me.”
“Have you eaten?”
“It’s only an hour drive, right? I can wait.”
He nods, pulling onto the road. The city slowly fades into countryside. Dry golden fields and naked trees fill the window. The land is punctuated by long stone walls and dotted with cottages and whitewashed houses. Everything becomes grander the farther we move from Inverness, the mountains glorious, the valleys wide and deep.
There’s still not even a lick of snow.
