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"Ballachulish. A village in the Highlands, on the shores of Loch Leven." I gaze out across the blue waters of Lake Superior, and an impulse hits me. "Maybe I'll have a swim. The water's making me sentimental."
"Did you bring swim trunks?"
"I don't need them." Springing to my feet, I lift my shirt, intending to shed it.
"What have you got on under those jeans?" Calli asks.
I pause with my shirt partly lifted. "Skin."
She stares at my abdomen like she wants to nibble on my abs, which I'd love for her to do, but she holds back.
I pull my shirt up a little higher.
Calli raises a hand. "Hold up, Flipper. That water is frigid. Why do you think we didn't see a single person swimming or wading? It comes straight from the depths of Lake Superior, which is very deep and cold. They don't call it an inland sea for nothing."
I flatten my lips. She can't think I care about that. "I'm Scottish. Chilly water doesnae scare me."
"Maybe you should dip your toes in first to test how cold it is." When I scoff and roll my eyes, she says, "Trust me. You don't want to swim this early in the year unless it's an inland lake, or a protected bay. Even then… Well, trust me. Okay?"
Grumbling, I let my shirt fall back down and nod. If the lass insists, I will test the water. Stripping off my shoes and socks, I roll my jeans up to my knees. While I amble toward the water, Calli leans back, braced on her arms, to watch me. I can tell by the look on her face that she's admiring my body again. I love that.
Her head lolls to the left as she moistens her lips, all her attention riveted to my erse.
I wade out into the gently lapping waves without stopping until the water reaches my knees. This doesn't feel so bad. What was she on about? This water isn't as cold as she—
Mhac na galla. The frigid water has suddenly hit me, and my entire body freezes. My shoulders bunch up. I can't seem to pull in a full breath, and I curl my fingers then snap them straight and stiff. I clench my teeth, a breath exploding out between them. I've swum in cold lochs, but this… I suck in a shuddering breath, sure my feet are about to freeze solid and break off to float away on the tide.
"Ah!" I hiss, backing out of the water as fast as my half-frozen feet can move. "Bod an Donais!"
Calli slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.
Whirling around, I drop onto my beach towel, rubbing my feet furiously. "You think it's funny? I've probably got frostbite."
"I warned you." Canting her head, Calli grins while I give an exaggerated shiver. "What was that you said a minute ago? Sounded like another language."
"Gaelic. I was cursing at the bloody freezing water."
"What does it mean? The phrase you said."
"Bod an Donais. Means the devil's penis."
Laughter erupts out of her and doesn't stop until she's clutching her belly and her eyes are watering. I observe her with a half-smile, half-frown until she wipes her eyes and catches her breath.
"You think that's funny too?" I say. "It's a legitimate Scottish curse. Though I could've saidbod a' chac, which means shit's penis."
The lass bursts out laughing again and collapses onto her back on her towel, hands clutching her belly.
Her giggles die away when I recline beside her, my head supported on one hand and my focus squarely on her. "I can teach you plenty of dirty Gaelic phrases—starting with the ones about sex."
"Let's eat now," she says as if I didn't just offer to talk dirty to her.
"Not yet," I murmur, bending closer, my face positioned over hers. "First, I want to kiss you."
"No sex. Rule number one."
My mouth twists into a half-suppressed smirk. "You keep assuming I'm wanting sex, which makes me wonder if you're the one who can't stop thinking about it."
"No comment."
