Page 57 of The Tartan Thesis

“Unless it’s in the Spoken Word category, I don’t think you’ll be winning one this year.”

Beau grins. There’s a minute of silence as he checks the route again on the satnav. Then he leans back in his seat, one wrist on top of the wheel, one arm on the center console, looking confident and at ease. And fuck, he’s beautiful. This posture isn’t on The List, but I might need to add it.

He catches me staring but doesn’t comment. Instead he asks, “So, what does haverin’ mean, anyway?”

18

Beau

Bollocks

Translation: Testicles

Usage: Exclamation of frustration or to describe something of poor quality or negligible reliability

The drive is beautiful, from the soft, rolling hills of the Lowlands, to the giant Douglas firs of Perthshire. Then we reach the Highlands and cruise down winding roads through wide glens. The colors are muted, evidence of winter, and there’s a persistent mist gently falling from the overcast sky. Even with limited visibility, the scenery is breathtaking.

Torin loosens up as we make our way north. Our banter flows, and I’ve mercifully spared him another singing performance. He points out things along the road—rivers cutting through valleys, lochs flashing silver, tucked-away towns I would've driven straight past without noticing. When he talks about Scotland, especially the Highlands, his voice changes, and I love listening to him. He loves his country, and more and more, I do, too.

We turn down the long gravel drive to the farm, and my heart begins to race. This will be my first time “meeting the parents.” Torin and I aren’t dating, so it’s not exactly the same, but that doesn’t stop the nerves from fluttering through my stomach.

We pass a large modern barn before pulling up to a traditional stone house nestled into the glen, smoke coiling out of the chimneys that stand like spires above the second story. Outbuildings, metal fences, and low stone walls spread out behind the house, and I smile when I see sheep grazing on a hill in the distance. Some of my nerves flee as I take in the idyllic Ramsay homestead. This sure beats spending the holidays by myself in the city.

I park next to a muddy four-by-four truck and turn off the car. Torin reaches into the back seat and grabs the reindeer antlers I’d worn earlier.

“Here,” he says with a grin. “Don’t want to forget the best part of your outfit.”

I take them and tuck them into the door pocket. “I’ll let them see how good-looking I am first. Then they can learn what a weirdo I am.”

“Come for the handsome, stay for the unhinged?” he asks with a smirk.

“Something like that,” I say, my insides warming at him casually calling me handsome.

We’re grabbing our bags when I hear someone yell, “Mum, they’re here!” I turn to see a twenty-something woman in a black sweater running toward Torin, red curls flying behind her. She practically tackles him with a hug, squealing, “Torin! I’ve missed you!”

“Missed you, too, Frey,” he says, hugging her back.

She releases him and immediately wraps her arms around me.

“Beau!” she says, squeezing me tight.

She only comes up to my chest, but her strong grip pins my arms to my sides. I do my best to reach around and hug her back. “You must be Freya.”

She pulls back, grinning. “And you must be kidding me with this car. It isn’t enough for you to walk around looking like that,” she says, rings glinting from every finger as she traces an unapologetic line up and down my body, “you have to be rich, too?”

Before I can respond, she turns to her brother and gives his shoulder a little shove. “Good job, Torin. This one’s a catch. Knew you had it in you.”

I blush, and Torin waves his hands as if to ward off her comment. “No no no,” he says, shooting her a stern look before glancing hesitantly at me. “Beau is my classmate. He’s a colleague.” He looks to me for backup.

I decide to set aside my nerves and have a little fun instead. If I’m going to make a good impression on his sister, I might as well lean in. I give Torin a dubious look. “Is that really all I am to you, Torin? A colleague? You’re sure there’s nothing more to it?” I’m pressing my luck, but I can tell by her expression that Freya is eating this up, and having his family on my side would be a green flag if I’m going to pursue him.

His face turns bright red. “I—no. I mean, yes.”

“Oh?” Freya asks, eyebrow cocked.

Torin sputters again, which is adorable, until his mouth and brain finally align. “What I mean to say is that we’re friends. In addition to being colleagues. We… work out together,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh, yes, I do enjoy our… workouts,” I say, nudging him with my elbow and winking at Freya.