Page 43 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

Iain opened his eyes, and his lips quirked. "I'm meant to be your Zen master, not the other way round."

"I'm no wise man, but maybe I can inspire you to go after your girl."

"Afraid I'm too old for second chances."

"Sorry-ass excuses." Gavin canted his head, studying his roommate. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Fifty."

Gavin felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? You don't look it."

Iain shrugged one shoulder. "Can't say it was clean living that kept me young."

Though Gavin considered asking what Iain meant by that, he decided to let it go. If the guy wanted to share, fine. Gavin had pestered him for enough details, and he wouldn't wheedle Iain into saying more. So, he changed the subject.

"Do you think," Gavin said, "I have a chance in hell of getting your cousins to accept me?"

"Only if you honestly want them to."

"I'll do anything to make it happen."

"Anything?" Iain leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "Best be careful making vows like that. Rory has an unusual sense of humor."

"Rory's got a sense of humor? Believe that when I see it."

"Oh, you'll see it." Iain sat back, and his lips curved in the faint smile Gavin had come to associate with the odd Scot. "You may wish you hadn't discovered Rory's humorous side once he lets it loose on you."

"Are you trying to scare me? Thought you were on my side."

"I am."

Gavin folded his arms over his chest. "Well, when Rory starts wailing on me because you said he has a sense of humor, I expect you to step in to help me out."

"My brawling days are over."

"You were a brawler?" Gavin regarded Iain with a new appreciation. "Can't picture that. Seems like not much upsets you."

"Doesn't anymore. I've learned through hard experience getting upset has no value."

Gavin reined in his curiosity about Iain and let the comment go. Iain could keep his secrets. They weren't best friends or anything, though he liked the guy.

But he had to say one more thing before he shut his trap.

"You should look for your girl," Gavin said. "You'll never know if you've got a shot with her until you try."

"Aye." Iain contemplated the view out the window, his expression somber. "Maybe I will try. Someday."

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, Jamie leaned against the vestibule wall watching Rory haul several suitcases out the door and to the Jaguar F-Type convertible waiting in the drive. Emery had gone to the kitchen to get "munchies for the trip."

Rory strode into the vestibule, not even breathing hard after lugging the suitcases. He liked to toss cabers — which Emery called "giant toothpicks," a term that always made Rory roll his eyes — so Jamie supposed all that caber practice had given her brother the fortitude for hauling his wife's overstuffed bags to the car.

"You're ready to leave," Jamie said.

"As soon as my wife finishes raiding the pantry." Rory averted his gaze, grasping the back of his neck, and his mouth twisted at one corner. "Jamie, I, ah, need to tell you something."

Jamie resisted the impulse to smile with no small effort. Only once before had she seen her brother this embarrassed and uncomfortable, and that had been because Emery asked him to dress up as Thor for Halloween. Still, to Jamie's surprise, he'd done it. After three months with Emery, Rory would do anything she asked of him. He loved her that much.

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