When his new best friend swung the passenger door open, Gavin settled into the seat and shut the door, waiting while Iain strode around to the driver's door and got in. The Rover looked ramshackle from the outside, but the interior was clean and well-maintained. The seats featured pale-tan fabric that seemed almost as good as new.

"Fasten your seatbelt," Iain instructed.

Gavin asked a question while he did up the seatbelt. "Why don't you fix up the outside of this thing?"

"Not worth the bother."

He supposed that was all his host would tell him, and it wasn't really his business, anyway.

Calli had gotten him a roommate. He was staying with a MacTaggart. Sure, Iain swore he had no stake in the Jamie thing, but it still felt weird to bunk with a member of the family headed by two men who hated him and a third who tolerated him but wasn't his bud.

The Rover jounced along the dirt road, its bones rattling. The headlights speared the ever-increasing darkness ahead.

"How ancient is this car?" Gavin asked.

"Not as old as I am," Iain said. He patted the center console. "She'll get us there."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Anything you like. Ask away."

They hit a pothole, and Gavin's teeth clacked together. "What do you do for a living?"

Iain shrugged one shoulder. "I have a PhD in archaeology, and I used to teach at university, but that ended a long time ago. These days, I volunteer at digs on occasion, sometimes with my cousin Catriona. She couldn't make much use of her archaeology degree either, so we commiserate about our lack of higher-level employment."

"You're unemployed?"

"No." Iain said. "I work with Aidan."

"Thought you were a neutral third party."

"I am, yes." Iain leaned back into his seat, holding the wheel negligently with one hand. "I don't care either way if you cozy up to the Three Macs, or if they toss your corpse out in the middle of the nearest muir."

"What's a muir?"

"A moor, laddie. High, flat grassland."

Gavin shot his new roomie a sardonic half frown. "My name's not 'laddie', it's Gavin."

"My mistake. Gavin." Iain spun the wheel with one hand, veering around a squirrel that had dashed out into the road. The little critter scurried away unscathed. "What is your profession?"

Gavin snorted. "At the moment, unemployed loser. Before that, I was in sales."

"Selling what?"

"Restoration services." Gavin gripped the seat as Iain hit the gas and the Rover rocketed over the bumpy road. "People whose homes got wrecked in a natural disaster or flooded by a burst pipe, whatever. I sold them the company's services."

"Fascinating."

"You almost sound like you mean that. Trust me, it was boring as hell." Gavin held on as Iain swerved the car around a corner onto a paved road. "But it paid well. Until they laid me off. Budget cutbacks."

"Now you've lost your career and your woman." Iain clucked his tongue. "Dead awful situation. I know how that feels."

"Losing the job or the woman?"

"Both." The Scot grasped the steering wheel in both hands, easing up on the accelerator. "At the same time."

Iain had told Gavin about losing his archaeologist job. He'd lost a woman too? Gavin had never been nosy, but he couldn't help asking. "What happened with the girl?"