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"Not enough MacTaggarts?" Logan says with a chuckle. "You know better than that."
My cousin Evan jogs out of the garden door and shouts, "They're here."
Evan scans the group of Scots and Brits gathered over here, and his brows draw together. "Why are you lot naked?"
"It was Damian's idea," Logan says. "Callum and Hugh need to learn a wee bit of humility. Besides, we're more aerodynamic without our clothes."
Aye, that statement might sound like a joke to anyone outside my family. But MacTaggarts know that aerodynamics are vital in a shinty match since we do whatever it takes to win. It's not unheard of to see our players flying through the air to make a goal or tackle an opponent. That's shinty the MacTaggart way.
Our teams wind up not fifty-fifty Brits and Scots, but Hugh has the sense to haud his wheesht about that. We are in Scotland, after all, where Brits aren't easy to come by.
The lasses from the American Wives Club carry our playing sticks over to us. Eachcamanis about three and a half feet long with a curved end, sort of like a hockey stick. I explain this to Kate when she brings mycamanto me. The lass kisses me full on the mouth while Hugh is watching us. Maybe she means to pound it into his thick British skull that she doesn't want him and never did. Or maybe she just means to wish me luck.
"Kick their asses," she says. "Especially Hugh's."
"Why especially him? I thought you liked Hugh—as a mate."
"I do. But he needs something big to knock sense into him."
Grinning, I thump mycamanon my palm. "It's a dead certainty I'll be knocking things into and out of Hugh."
"Don't break his teeth or his nose. He has such nice bone structure."
Kate walks away.
I admire her erse until she turns around, taking up her position among the American lasses to watch the match.
Both teams walk onto the pitch and take up their positions. Gavin Douglas, my cousin Jamie's husband, is the goalkeeper for my team while Luke Turner winds up as the goalkeeper for Hugh's lot. Since we have three American blokes here, they tossed a coin to decide which two would join the match. Damian lost, but everyone agreed he should be our referee. In MacTaggart shinty, the referee doesn't intervene unless a grievous injury is imminent. Who needs all those rules? Not us.
Erica, Lachlan's wife, carries the ball out to the pitch and hands it to Damian. Then she hurries back to the crowd. Though Damian is only the referee, he opted to ditch his clothes too. That's hardly a surprise. He is a nudist, after all, and works at a naturist resort.
I think all the lasses should go nude too. Strictly to be fair.
But then Hugh would get to see all of Kate. On second thought, the lasses should stay clothed.
We all gather on the pitch with each team forming a group to discuss strategy. I donnae see why we need to do that. The strategy is to beat the other team by any means necessary.
"Aim for Hugh as often as ye can," I say to Lachlan, our team leader.
"Do we want to win?" he asks. "Or is the goal to thrash your best mate?"
"Both. Nothing will gut him more than to lose to my team."
"All right. It's no holds barred, full-on MacTaggart shinty. Are we all agreed?"
The entire team nods their approval.
I plan to thrash Hugh. My best mate. I mean to humiliate him. But is that really what I want to do? Jack and I talked earlier—as brothers, not psychologist and client—and he suggested I'm not angry with Hugh. Jack thinks I have an inferiority complex about my best mate because I believe he always gets the girl. It's a fact that he does, but Jack might have a wee bit of a point. I expect women to bypass me on their way to Hugh, and maybe I haven't tried hard enough with the lasses because of that.
Not anymore. I won Kate without any tricks. She chose me.
So, why am I about to thrash Hugh? I'll think about that later.
We take up our positions on the pitch, with Gavin as our goalkeeper. A coin toss decides whose side will make the first strike, and Damian tosses me the ball. One by one, each player wields hiscamanand prepares for the match to begin.
Damian shouts, "Ready! Set! Go!"
I whack the ball, sending it flying toward the opposing team.
