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"You'll do it?"
"That's what I said, isn't it? Don't annoy me, or I'll change my mind."
I'm grinning, but he can't see that. Munro would probably snarl at me if he could see my expression. "That's brilliant. Ashley and I will leave for America in a few hours. You can meet us at the Flagstaff airport."
"No, I won't do that."
"But Munro, ye just said—"
"Haud yer wheesht, Errol." The sound of shuffling papers follows. "Tell me where your expedition will begin."
"Well, we'd like to start about forty-two miles upstream from Crystal Canyon."
"Hmm. Let me check my maps." I hear more paper-shuffling, and soft grunts too. "I know a suitable place where you can start, but we'll need to travel by helicopter for the first leg. Then we'll land on a little spot I know of, just north of Vasey's Paradise. That will give us a starting point that's a good ways upriver from where you want to start searching."
"You know the Grand Canyon better than I do. I trust your judgment."
He grunts again. "We'll see about that."
Then he hangs up on me.
Munro used to be more fun and less rude. I suppose he has his reasons for behaving like abod ceann. As long as he can assist us in our expedition, I donnae care if he shows up wearing a kilt made of grizzly bear fur.
Why did Munro say "we'll see about that" when I told him I trust his judgment?
Ashley and I dump all our gear into my car and head for the airport. I let Ashley take the wheel this time. The lass deserves a break from my style of driving. We arrive in Inverness just as civil twilight has begun. The pilots offer to help us carry our things into the jet, then we take off. Aye, Evan's jet has a much quieter and smoother ride than Marilyn could ever provide. But Evan hasn't given the jet a name. If he did, he would probably call it Keely after his wife, or maybe Joy after his daughter. I don't think billionaires generally give their jets a name, though.
Maybe I should invent one for Evan's jet, strictly to fash him. But that wouldn't work. My cousin doesn't get upset that easily. If I gave Magnus's car a name, he would definitely go apoplectic.
Now we are in the air, flying toward America.
Since we have about seven hours to kill, I suggest to Ashley that we should go into the bedroom and shag. She shakes her head, giving me a tolerant smile, and suggests we should eat dinner instead. The jet does come with a gourmet chef, after all. By the time we've finished our meal, we're both ready for bed. I offer to sleep on the sofa, but Ashley assures me we can share the bedroom.
She sits at the foot of the bed to remove her shoes and socks.
I kick my shoes off and start to unbutton my trousers.
She gives me a strange look but goes back to removing her socks. Then she stands up to shed her trousers. Instead of taking off her shirt, she reaches inside it to unhook her bra and pull it out through the arms of her shirt. Ashley then pulls the covers back and climbs onto the bed while wearing only her knickers and T-shirt.
I get rid of my trousers and shirt, then slip my fingers inside the waistband of my shorts, intending to push them down.
"What are you doing?" Ashley asks, bolting upright.
"Taking my clothes off. That's what I'm doing."
"At least keep your undies on. Your shirt too would be best."
I raise my brows. "Best for what? I always sleep in the nude. And you told me you prefer to sleep that way too."
"Well, yeah, but—" She tugs the covers up to conceal her chest, though she's still wearing her shirt. "I'd rather we kept at least some of our clothes on."
"Ah, of course. I know what's going on here." I snap the waistband of my shorts. "You're afraid ye cannae resist me if I'm naked."
"Honestly, I can't resist you even when you're wearing all your clothes." She flops backward onto the bed and moans. "Fine, get naked. It won't make any difference."
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm too jeeked to seduce you right now."
"Really? Yes, that does make me feel better."
