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I showed the phone to Duncan. “This is my dog, Shatner.”
“Shatner, as in William?”
His fingers brushed over mine as he took the phone, and a flood of warmth rippled across my skin. I would have thought the days of getting worked up over phone hand-offs were long gone, but nope. Still in full swing.
“Yup. I’m a bit of a Trekkie.” Understatement, considering I basically had the original series memorized. “Plus, it’s just a great name.”
“It is.” He smirked at the photo and handed the phone back.
I looked at the pic of my dog’s adorable mug but then died a little inside. The tail end of last night’s text session with Jill peeked out above the photo.
Jill: What’s the status with the hottie Scot?
Molly: Goodnight, nosy
Jill: Snoopers gonna snoop
I could have shriveled up into a tiny raisin of humiliation. I shut off the phone and stuffed it deep in my bag. Had I signed some sort of stipulation that said I was required to embarrass myself every day of this trip? If so, I was doing a bang-up job.
What was I supposed to do here? SayThat’s not about you!like a teenager whose crush found a note about him? No way. Best to pretend he’d never seen the text—even if the twitch of his mouth and glint in his eye said he certainly had.
“Shatner’s a chubby little tub, but he’s a good boy. My friend Jill is dog-sitting for me, and she’s been sending pictures of him every day.” Among other things. “I used to think he couldn’t get along without me, but he seems to be doing fine. He’ll probably pee himself when he sees me again, though.”
He chuckled. “A sign of true love.”
My belly did a little flip when Duncan’s deep voice rumbledtrue love. He made everything sound good, but those words worked a special magic.
“What about you? Is there anyone at home ready to pee themselves when you get back?”
“If you’re asking if I have any pets, no.” He paused a beat. “If you’re asking if I have anyone else, also no.”
Was I asking that? No. Sort of? He was attractive, not that I needed reminding, with a good sense of humor, and his rich, mellow voice was all kinds of sexy, but—no. We were just on vacation together, nothing more.
Probably nothing more.
eleven
The stone guesthouse on the outskirts of Inverness made my heart skip. I had to hand it to Hold Onto Your Kilts—even though staying in such small lodges meant we had to double up in our rooms, they were ridiculously quaint. A little like going across town to visit Grandma in the heart of the Highlands.
“This will be our home base just for one night,” Lewis said. “Today, we’ll focus on Scotland’s history with a trip to Culloden, and end with an afternoon on Loch Ness. We’re just going to drop off our things before we head to the battlefield, so let’s not get too comfortable inside.”
The two men who ran the lodge greeted us with warm handshakes like grooms in a receiving line.
“Good morning to you all,” Jack said. “Welcome to Inverness. Step right in, Kenneth will show you to your rooms.”
Kenneth handed out room keys as he led us through the lodge. Harlow and I had a twin bedroom on the second level, and aside from slightly different wallpaper, it might have been the room we’d just left behind in Aviemore. Cozy, homey, and perfect for an American still stunned to find herself in Scotland.
“What did you do on your other visits here?” I asked. She hadn’t seemed impressed by much of anything we’d seen or done so far, but maybe more experience with travel did that to people.
“I came for a yoga retreat in Glasgow one time, and the other I went to Edinburgh with my ex. We mostly stayed in the city and saw live music.” She laid out her bags in the cramped communal space around the beds and aired out her clothes.
“I still can’t believe I’m here.” I peeked out our small window onto the lane below. The houses boasted dormer windows and chimney stacks topped with half a dozen vents each that just begged for a little soft-shoe action by a scruffy chimney sweep.
“Is this your first big trip?”
“Yup.” I’d been to Vancouver, British Columbia, a few times, but it didn’t compare in light of international travel stories. Anyway, nothing I had done there was worthy of mention. Visits to museums and botanical gardens wouldn’t impress anyone under the age of seventy.
“Watch out,” she said. “You’ll get addicted. I try to add a stopover to every trip I take, just for the pure need to see one more place.”
