I nodded. “Just tired.”
He came to stand beside me, a key in his hand and a frown on his face. “Jet-lagged?”
“Aye,” I offered up with a yawn, which made Callum grin.
“Fitting in nicely,” he said, placing the key in my hand. “Take this key and follow me upstairs, eh? I’ll show you to the flat.”
I yawned again and tightened my hold on my bag, which was felt like it weighed a ton. What I had put in it? My simple packing of pants and shirts seemed to have multiplied tenfold, and I glared at it.
Callum’s hand appeared in front of me, breaking my staredown with my offensive bag. “Give it here, then.”
“What?” I blinked my watery eyes, swaying on my feet and fighting another yawn.
“The bag, woman. Hand it over.”
“God, yes. I thought you’d never ask,” I muttered, dropping the bag in his waiting hand.
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Americans.”
I shrugged and followed him through the printing press. “More like Texans,” I said with an indignant sniff.
He opened a door, revealing a narrow set of stairs, and gestured for me to go ahead of him. “Texas is a part of America, innit?”
“Only just,” I told him as we climbed the stairs to the flat.
“All right, here it is,” Callum said, opening the door with a nod of his head. “I’ll let you settle in. Sleep as long as you like. Don’t let Agnes strongarm ye into anything before you’re fit to walk a straight line.”
I nodded, walking in to the flat I was too tired to fully appreciate. There were dark hardwood floors, and an open floor plan that made the most of the plethora of windows allowing for natural light. I saw an assortment of mismatched furniture which lent the space a cozy and lived-in feel, but I walked right by it in a daze. I was on a mission. I needed a bed.
“Which way?” I turned, looking around myself with a wave of my hand. “Is the bed?”
“This way.”
A strong hand landed on my shoulder, turning me away from the kitchen I had started to wander into. That touch jolted me awake. Someone should bottle what Callum’s hand felt like on my shoulder and market it to truck drivers trying to stay awake. His hand slipped to the small of my back and guided me forward. I shuffled along, trying to remember to breathe, and when he opened the door to the bedroom I let him maneuver me to the foot of the bed.
For such a big man Callum’s touch was gentle. I licked my lips, trying to force my mind away from the warmth of his hand on my shoulders and how good he smelled—a mixture of crisp and clean, like freshly laundered linens and something else, musky and masculine...maybe sandalwood? I inhaled, losing my battle to not think too much about the Scotsman who was my boss’s nephew, and who was now my landlord.
Just because I wasn’t keen on being viewed as a dependable and boring woman didn’t mean I needed to make imprudent or unwise decisions...at least not this early into my stay in Scotland. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I sucked in a breath and prepared to bid Callum goodbye. A few hours of shut-eye would do me good, or at least help me keep my wits about me around him.
“Thank you,” I said, turning to face him, and found myself pressed up against his chest. I hadn’t anticipated coming into contact with him, and not so much of him, without warning. I was hard-pressed to say or do anything but stare up at him with wide eyes. “Thank you,” I said again, my voice just above a whisper.
Callum licked his lips, verdant eyes dropping to my mouth. “You said that already, lass.”
I nodded, voice thick. “Oh...yeah.”
“Best get ye tucked in,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bed behind me.
“Sleep is good.”
“Aye, sleep is good.” Callum cleared his throat and then stepped from me. I had to bite back the frown that threatened to give me away entirely. I didn’t want him to go. That much was apparent. I was shocked at the urge. It had been years since I had been this attracted to someone, this drawn or this in danger of making a foolish choice.
What was Scotland doing to me?
Callum gave me a quick nod and moved to the door. He hesitated in the doorway and turned, looking at me over his shoulder, burnished hair falling over his eyes. There was a heat in his stare that hadn’t been there before, and it turned my insides to molten liquid. I shivered and found myself taking a hesitant step toward him, but his next words stopped in my tracks.
“Don’t let the fey take ye, understand?” he said.
My first urge was to laugh, but the laughter died on my lips when Callum arched an eyebrow at me. His voice was so serious, face severe and eyes unwavering, that I swallowed hard.
