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“And she’s off.” Eden sighs. “Not for me. I’m pooped and need my bed.” She lets out a loud yawn.
Pom-pom has been curled up on the sofa for the last half hour. I think the kids wore him out. They were all fascinated by his miniature size and cuteness.
Ella suggested I start a social media account for him. Then she showed me the account for her three miniature French bulldogs and their thousands of followers. She even has sponsorship deals for them, too. It never crossed my mind to do that for Pom-pom.
I’m grateful that dogs are welcome in the hotel too, so it saved me a trip of having to take him back home.
Lincoln gives my leg a quick squeeze and then heads off to sit beside his father on the other side of the sofa.
Curling my knee underneath me, I turn to the side to speak to Hunter. I’ve seen him on billboards, advertising men’s underwear before, and on the television, but he’s even more handsome up close, and he’s cut. Very, very cut.
He’s just a normal guy, Violet. Not famous. Be normal.
“Is Eden your personal fluffer on a photoshoot set, then?”
I make Hunter splutter his drink everywhere.
What in the hell made me ask that?
I slap the palm of my hand against my forehead.
He picks up a napkin and dries his face, his hands, and his jeans.
It’s official. I’m as uncool as pushing someone into a swimming pool.
“Oh, I like you, Violet.” Hunter chuckles. “I like her.” He calls over to Lincoln.
Lincoln gives me a sexy wink.
“Forget I said that.” I fiddle with the zipper on the cushion. “I’ll start again. Can I ask you something?”
“As long as it’s not about fluffers, yes.”
“Deal. Was moving from America to Scotland a big decision for you?”
He looks over at his adorably cute wife, Eden, and smiles. “Never. I just knew. The great thing about my job is that it allows me to stay anywhere in the world because we travel so much and it makes no difference where my base is.”
“Yeah, I can’t do that,” I mumble under my breath, then take a long sip of wine.
“What do you do?”
“I work for my father as an operations manager. All of my work is based in the US.”
“Ah. So that could be a problem if you wanted to, say, for instance, move to Scotland?” He looks at me with a knowing look.
“Yeah.” I look over at Lincoln, who’s having a deep conversation with his father.
Hunter stretches his long legs out in front of him and crosses them at his ankles. “Before Eden and I got married and had kids, Eden’s mother once told her this great story about how you don’t have to see or know your final destination. You only have to take one junction at a time. A bit like traveling, you never know what you will find when you do.” He looks from Lincoln to me, then back again. “She was right.” He winks.
What a wise woman. I wish I had the type of mother I could ask for advice. My dad would never understand the current dilemma reeling through my brain, but maybe my bestie, Hannah, will understand and she’s more levelheaded and grounded.
“What do you love most about living in Scotland?” I take another sip of wine and place my glass back on the table.
“They use the word shag a lot. It’s a great word.” He smiles. “Fancy a shag; want to shag; let’s have a shag; they are shagging.” I almost snort my wine through my nose. “And I like how excited they get about a cup of tea, especially in the morning and…” Hunter looks across at his half-asleep wife. “Eden is there, and my boys. I wouldn’t change the four of them for the world.”
He really loves them.
“Do you miss America?”
