Page 47 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

He had no frigging idea what that might be.

Aidan reached Gavin and Iain and held up the bags of food. "Hungry?"

Iain dropped his sledgehammer and rubbed his palms together. "Fair starved. Smells like fish and chips."

Aidan shook his head at his cousin, his lips tightening into a closed-mouth smile. "Iain's nose may look like a hawk's, but he's got the smelling sense of a bloodhound. He can identify the kind of food from its smell, from thirty meters away."

Iain feigned disgust. "I'd rather be a hawk than a slavering dog."

Aidan told Gavin, "A hawk is more appropriate for Iain because he scavenges food from everyone. Keep your lunch in your lap with your hands over it, or this one'll steal your chips when you're not looking."

"Hawks are predators," Iain informed his cousin, "not scavengers."

"Which explains your attitude toward the lasses," Aidan said with a teasing smirk.

"You're one to talk," Iain said. "What was it they used to call you? Don Juan MacTaggart. At least I follow through, instead of teasing the poor lasses with flirtation that doesn't go anywhere."

"I didnae feel the need to get under the skirts of every woman in the Highlands." Aidan waved the lunch bags in Iain's face. "If you want my food, you should stop insulting me."

The older man straightened and said, with a faint smile, "Naturally, you were the greatest lover in all the United Kingdom. I can't hope to outdo your legend."

Aidan groaned out a sigh, probably at the blatant sarcasm in his cousin's tone. "When you meet the right woman, you'll feel differently about the lasses. A good one will change your life."

"Why settle for one when I can have them all?" Iain joked, but something in his eyes made Gavin wonder if he was thinking about his long-lost mystery girl.

Aidan led them around the remnants of the stone wall to a birch tree behind the farmhouse. Iain took a seat between two large roots of the leafless tree, his back against the trunk and his legs outstretched. Aidan perched on the largest root, using it like a low bench. Gavin dropped onto the grass facing the two of them. While Aidan handed out the Styrofoam boxes of fish and chips, Gavin surveyed the area behind the house.

His spine snapped straight, and he sharpened his gaze on Aidan. Gavin aimed one finger at the hulking object that had caught his eye. "What's that over there?"

Aidan tracked Gavin's finger to the large piece of machinery parked behind the house. With total innocence, Aidan said, "Looks like a backhoe. Imagine that."

"Yeah," Gavin said, his tone acidic, "imagine that. Why the hell are we breaking our backs with sledgehammers when you've got a backhoe?"

Chewing a hunk of fried fish, Aidan rotated his eyes toward his cousin and back to Gavin. "It was Iain's idea."

Gavin veered his sharp gaze to Iain. "Care to explain?"

"Thought the hard labor might do you good," Iain said while gnawing on a mouthful of fish. He swallowed the food, then shoved three chips — what Americans called French fries — into his mouth. He mumbled something made unintelligible by his chomping.

"Sorry," Gavin said, "didn't catch that. Your lame excuse was drowned out by the food you crammed into your trap."

Iain finished off his mouthful of chips, wiping his fingers on his jeans. "You needed a reminder of how to be a real man."

Gavin wolfed down three chips before he could speak without snarling. "Are you insulting me for fun, or is there a point?"

Aidan answered, since Iain was once again stuffing his face until his cheeks puffed out. "You haven't been acting like a man, have ye? Jamie's ex-fiancé turns up, and you let him strut around her like a randy stallion with a mare."

Gavin hissed a breath out his nose and bit off a large chunk of fried fish.

"Aye," Iain said. "That scunner plans to steal Jamie, and you're not doing a ruddy thing about it. You're a military man, aren't you? When did you turn into a dafty?"

"I am not a dafty — and I know that means a fool, by the way." Gavin slapped the piece of fish he'd been holding back into the Styrofoam box. "What am I supposed to do? If she wants him —"

"She doesn't want him," Iain said. "But you have to work for it if you want her back."

Aidan nodded. "Trevor's a scunner of a Sassenach."

Iain translated. "The Englishman is a nuisance of the first order."

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