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“Decisions, decisions…” I muse, and I’m just deciding whether ravishing him up against the kitchen counter is worth the rumbling in my empty stomach, when there’s a banging on the front door. Without waiting for a pause, someone throws it open, and footsteps sound.
“Great, you have a fresh pot on!” Kyle exclaims cheerfully, barging right in. “Da’s on a green tea kick, and it’s like drinking a cup of grass clippings.”
“Bugger off,” Fraser harrumphs good-naturedly. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
Kyle looks over, and I offer a wave—at the same time as I try to button the shirt over my… Everything.
“Aw, don’t mind me.” Kyle is already taking down a mug and pouring himself some coffee. “I’ve no interest in your bits and pieces. But I do come bearing gifts,” he adds, producing a crumpled paper bag and tossing it over to me.
“Croissants!” I exclaim happily, peeking inside. “OK, you’re my favorite MacKenzie now.”
“Ahem,” Fraser clears his throat, grinning.
“Joint favorite,” I amend, digging into a flaky pastry. “Mmm, these are delicious.”
“Fresh from the best bakery in town. Classic northern hospitality.”
“More like a trojan horse.” Fraser gives him a look. “So, they elected you to come spy, eh?”
“I dinnae ken what you mean,” Kyle says, as haughty as a man in a designer soccer shirt can manage. “Of all the accusations! My own brother!”
“Uh-huh,” Fraser smirks. “Give it a rest.”
Kyle eyes the stove. “Is that bacon, too?”
Fraser gives a long-suffering sigh. “You take over,” he says, handing Kyle the tongs. “Earn your keep while I take a shower. Best behavior, though.”
I bat my eyelashes. “Me or him?”
“Him,” Fraser grins. “No more embarrassing stories.”
“They’re charming,” Kyle argues. “Weren’t you charmed, JJ? Looks like it,” he adds with a cheeky grin, as Fraser grumbles something about siblings, and heads for the stairs.
“So…” The minute Fraser is gone, Kyle fixes me with a knowing look. “Back together, are we?”
I open my mouth—then stop.Are we?
Kyle grins. “C’mon, I have a house full of nosy bastards waiting for my report. Are you going to move over here? Live in London with Fraser? Is he coming back up to Scotland? What’s next for the lovebirds?”
I blink. We’ve discussed exactly none of the above, and as for my future work plans… Well, they pretty much hinge on locating the most chiseled cheekbones England has ever seen and dragging them back to a bank of waiting cameras in Sussex.
“No comment,” I say, breezy, instead, and take a big bite of croissant.
Kyle looks disappointed. “I promised I would wheedle it outte ye,” he says, slipping into his broad Scottish brogue. “Wagered ten quid you’d be picking out china patterns and setting a date by now.”
I splutter over my food. “Not so fast, mister. We’ve been reunited all of… one week. And for five days of that, I wanted to wring the man’s neck.”
“That won’t change,” Kyle says cheerfully. “But you’re in love, aren’t you? What’s the wait? Eddie popped the question to Juno after two days at Glastonbury,” he adds. “Now, they were off their heads on mushrooms at the time, but that didn’t stop them. And look at them now.”
“Mind-altering drugs aren’t really my thing.” I take a gulp of coffee, my mind racing. “And why haven’t you proposed to your boyfriend then? You’ve been together, what, a couple of months? That’s a couple of months longer than Fraser and me.”
“Aye, but he’s not the love of my life,” Kyle replies with a smirk. “You two have your whole epic star-crossed, love-lost thing going on.”
His phone sounds with a message. “Shit,” he says, checking the screen. “I forgot, I’m supposed to help teach Jack’s wee nephew’s footie club at lunch. Even if the kid supports Celtic,” he adds with a scowl.
“Sounds plenty star-crossed to me,” I tease, and Kyle nabs a rasher of bacon, and leaves laughing.
I move the pan off the stove, and pause, his eager questions echoing in my mind. That ease and safety I felt last night in Fraser’s arms is fading fast, leaving a seed of anxiety blossoming in its place.
