AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What's this?" Hugh asks.
Logan claps him on the shoulder. "They're here to fill out the teams."
"You get the huge monsters you call cousins, and I'm stuck with the runts who have never played shinty before."
I shake my head at Hugh. "Ye assume we'll cheat, donnae ye?"
Hugh huffs. "Why shouldn't I think that? You cheated with Kate."
"Silence, yebaothairean," Logan says in a soft yet threatening tone. He's calling us both idiots. "Each team will include Scots and Brits. And before ye complain again, I'll tell ye the Dixons and Hunters have learned the game. Even Bennett Montague, the former crown prince of Mithoria, is familiar with shinty."
"Oh, perfect," Hugh says. "At least Nick and Ben are massage therapists, so they can treat our torn ligaments after the match."
A woman storms out of the crowd. Kate halts near us and glances at me and Hugh in turn. "I never cheated with anyone. Hugh, it's not my fault you refused to believe me the fifty times I told you I'm not attracted to you."
I cannae help smirking. "Aye, you tell him, Kate."
"Oh, you are not blameless here. You're trying to make Hugh angry."
"Donnae need to try. He's so bloody sensitive that even a palm reading fashes him."
Hugh starts to speak, but Kate silences him by throwing a hand up. "None of this radical intervention stuff was my idea, but I think it's exactly what both of you need. Go on, beat the shit out of each other on the shinty field."
"It's called a pitch," I say. "Not a field."
"Whatever."
She spins around and marches back to the crowd, standing there with Emery on one side and Autumn on the other. The rest of the American Wives Club join them.
Logan announces who will play on each team, but he carefully chooses half Scots and half Brits on each side.
Rory strips his shirt off over his head and tosses it away.
"Taps off?" I say.
My cousin grins like the devil himself. "Not only taps off. This will be a nude shinty match."
Hugh's jaw drops. "Nude? You're completely off your rocker."
I shed my clothes. "If ye cannae handle it, princess, ye can back out."
He squints at me. "Oh, I can handle it."
"Go on, then. Show us you're not a coward."
While still squinting at me, Hugh ditches all his clothes. He spreads his arms wide. "The full monty it is."
The rest of my cousins, as well as my brother Jack and the Brits, remove their clothes too.
And the American Wives Club cheers. Emery shoves two fingers from each hand into her mouth and blows the loudest, shrillest whistle I've ever heard.
Kate's gaze veers to mine. She lifts her brows and nods toward Hugh. Then she mouths, "Be good."
I'm always good, and Kate knows it. But she really doesn't understand how MacTaggarts play shinty.
Whoever set up the pitch has placed makeshift goal posts at either end. They're actually tennis nets, but that doesn't matter. We just need a place to aim our strikes at so we can count our goals.
"There's a problem," I say as I survey the crowd. "We don't have enough men. Shinty needs twelve on each side including two goalkeepers."
