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“Bingo. Sold.” She grabs my hand, dragging me toward the rowdy men. “Is he single?” she whispers into the side of my face, adding as an afterthought.
“I understand he’s working through a bad breakup,” I’m muttering out the corner of my mouth.
“Damaged goods.” She nods in understanding.
We’re now standing next to the group of men, and I’m pretending I’m not. I would like nothing more than to fade into the background after telling Shamus I am on a break from men, and here I am with Tucker. It makes me feel stupid for doing a runner on Tucker at the rest stop when I wound up spending the night at his home and having sex with him.
The brother, who looks the oldest, and a bit like the actor Richard Madden, claps eyes on us. “Which one of you wee bonnie lasses is Gwendoline Robinson?” His mild case of salt-and-pepper hair labels him in my eyes as the senior brother.
Gwendoline steps forward, dangling the Mustang’s key in the air. “Here you go… Wiley?” She tosses the key in an underarm throw to him, watching in satisfaction as he snatches it out of the air with ease.
“Thank ye, lass, for driving her over for me and taking care of her. My wife—Paisley—is gonna be so excited to receive this gift.”
His Scottish accent is about as thick as Shamus’s, and he looks about five years older.
“She’s a lucky lady.” Gwendoline eyes all the brothers standing around in an arc, their focus on the two of us. “That’s one MacDougall brother introduced; what about the rest of you?” she says boldly.
“Shamus told us Tucker was spending some time with a wee Aussie lass.” Wiley points to me. “But there are two of ye.”
Gwendoline points to herself. “Six-month vacation. I’m helping run the Fainting Goat Ranch with Ophelia, and then I’m boomeranging back to the land down under. My gorgeous friend here”—she puts an arm around my waist, giving me a little shake—“is a more permanent fixture. I’m just a guest.” Gwendoline releases me.
I know Tucker’s standing behind me. I can feel his presence before he stands beside me.
“Ophelia and Gwendoline”—Tucker points out the youngest two, clean-shaven dark-haired brothers who wave their hands—“meet fraternal twins, Brodie and Knox.” They bow their heads with cheeky grins, looking about eighteen or nineteen. “They are in their first year of college.” Hearts will break on campus. “The brother with light brown hair standing next to them is Fraser.” He waves at us. No doubt he will be another heartbreaker. “He’s twenty-two and will graduate next year. These three were born here in the States, so you won’t need to tune your ears for them.”
Shamus steps forward, holding his hand out. “Ophelia and I have already met, but I’m Shamus, Gwendoline.”
They shake hands, Shamus holding on a little longer than necessary before dropping his hand and stepping back.
“And I’m Angus,” pipes up the brother with thick, shoulder-length, dark blond hair with a small man bun in place on top and scruff on his face. “I’m single if ye be needin’ any company. I live right next door.” His accent is similar to Shamus’s.
“Angus is thirty-two and being groomed like his brother Wiley to take over the family winery business eventually,” Tucker adds.
Wait! Did Angus say next door?My brain has just caught up. I’ve been standing here pretending I’m mostly listening while my body reacts to Tucker’s nearness.
I threaten to give myself whiplash at how fast I turn my head toward Tucker for confirmation my neighbors are the MacDougalls related to kilted Shamus.Have I been living next to Shamus’s family all this time?My facial expression asks Tucker. He nods and shrugs.
Of course, MacDougall Winery is my neighbor. I hadn’t even taken a moment to think about Shamus’s surname connection because all I see is a kilted drummer, but there is a lot more to Shamus than a musician. There’s more to the story about why Shamus went to school with Tucker in Los Angeles if his family’s winery is here in Temecula.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Hamlet, that’s a story for another day,” Tucker says quietly against my ear.
Angus is still holding the stage, but I’m only catching the last part of what he’s been saying to my best friend as I turn back around. “… we can throw a shrimp—”
Gwendoline groans dramatically, holding her hand up like she’s stopping a crowd. “Mate… no. Just… no.”Oh, boy, here she goes.I mentally slap my forehead. It is one of her pet hates. “Do you know what Aussie shrimp look like?” She’s now got her hands on her hips. There are murmurs and side glances of confusion at Gwen’s outburst. “I used to catch shrimp in bait pots down on the River Murray to thread onto a hook to fish with when I was a young kid. Google it. They are almost transparent and as big and as long as my thumb.” For added effect, she sticks her thumb in the air and pivots back and forth for all to get an eye full of her demonstration. “I would not eat one of those on the barbie. Yuk! They are prawns, people.Prawns!”
“Oh, I like you, Gwendoline.” Angus laughs while Shamus glares at his brother.
“Neighbors, you say. It sounds like Ophelia and I will need to show your family what an Aussie barbie looks and tastes like, and we will throw inprawnsand snags.”
“Yer on, Gwenny.” Angus gets an elbow to his side by Shamus for nicknaming her.
“I can see you are the shit-stirrer in the family. Well, I can bring my signature brand of shit-stirring to the table, Angus.” Gwen eyes the second-oldest brother up and down.
Shamus looks at the ground, trying to hide he’s laughing at my friend.
“Hey!” Gwen is on a roll. “Sexy kilted one, are you laughing at me?”
Shamus holds his palms up in surrender. “Aye. I can see why ye two are friends”—he waves a finger between us—“ye do know Angus is going to hold ye to the offer of a barbecue and some shit-stirring?”
