“Jamie has a map of all the time gates he’s discovered.”
She looked at him and found that her mind was simply aflame with the possibilities—
“No.”
She looked at Oliver in surprise. “What?”
He considered. “Maybe.”
She turned and put her arms around him, then leaned up and kissed him briefly.
“All right,” he muttered, but he smiled at her before he hugged her tightly, then put his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”
“You aren’t coming to Patrick’s?” Derrick asked politely.
“Get lost,” Oliver tossed at him.
“Well, it certainly worked out well for you.”
Mairead smiled at the look her husband sent to his friend, then smiled again at the look he gave her which was of a different sort entirely.
“Best wrong turn I ever took,” he said with a grave smile.
“I’m so happy you took it,” she said.
“I am, too. Moraig’s?”
“If we hold hands whilst crossing the threshold.”
“Let’s hold hands for the rest of our lives.”
“Pass the sick bucket,” Ewan called, “but let’s go have supper first. Cameron, what can I do to see this flying contraption put to bed properly?”
Mairead put her arm around her husband’s waist and walked with him back into the woods. If she made careful note of theirsurroundings and watched him do the same, who could blame them?
She was holding onto the man she loved and all was right with the world.
Twenty-seven
Oliver stood just inside thedoor of the salon and had never been more grateful for the presence of a sturdy indoor potted plant than he was at the moment. The tree wasn’t as tall as he was, unfortunately, but it did provide at least a bit of substance to hide behind.
He peered over the top of it and scanned the scene in front of him for more possible danger.
There were the owners and workers of the establishment there, of course, with their sharp tools and vats of hot wax. They were attending to several people who were important to him, though, so he assessed them brutally for their potential to execute anything but a good manicure—which they’d already perpetrated on his own poor self—and pedicure—which they’d also already inflicted on him. He would freely admit they were masters at their craft and he was half tempted to book another appointment before he went back to London, but he exercised his hard-won self-control and forbore. There were people still enjoying their spa day and he needed to keep an eye on them.
Mairead was head of the class there, obviously, dressed in her favorite black cargo trousers and polo neck jumper. He knew she mourned the loss of her hair, but he had to admit her chic little chin-length bob was absolutely the most adorable thing he’d ever clapped eyes on. Just looking at her left him simultaneously smiling at the fact that she’d been willing to give him a second look and determinedly looking for a way to have her all to himself so he could show her yet again how thrilled he was she’d given him that second look.
The women joining her there—Elizabeth, Madelyn, Sunshine, Samantha, and Emily—were also lovely and gracious and had been so kind and welcoming to her that Oliver had already started another list in the back of his book entitledVery Expensive Christmas Gifts for Women Who Deserve Far Better.
Ewan was in the middle of them, of course, but he’d been the one to see the morning proceeded perfectly for all involved. Oliver supposed the only lass in danger of Ewan’s charms was Emily, but she’d grown up with him and was very probably immune. He exchanged a brief look with his partner, then escaped out the front door whilst that door was unlocked.
He wasn’t surprised to find Cameron right there just outside the door, leaning against a section of brick wall. He had been, after all, one of the drivers in their happy little convoy south.
“Finished with your pampering?” Cameron asked politely.
Oliver shuddered. “I want to say it was awful, but I’m horrified to find it wasn’t.” He paused. “You should try it.”
“When hell freezes over,” Cameron muttered, then he shot Oliver a look. “Who do you think put it in your book?”
