Page 63 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“And will you let other people use it, lass?”

“Um, I guess? It depends on if the owner wants to share it?” What an odd question.

“Is it free or do you pay for it?”

“Of courseyou pay for it.” I squinted at Ramsay in confusion.

“How, um, big is it?”

“Ugh, Ramsay, I don’t know, big enough.”

“Can more than one person use it at a time?”

“What? I have no idea. I’m sure more than one person can put something in it if needed.” Had he lost his mind?

“Is it for men or women? Or both?”

“Both, if they like it.”

“That tracks.” Ramsay sniffed, wiping his hand across his face, and I caught something in his eyes. “Do you post photos online of it or is that private?”

“Why would it…Ramsay! What is goingon?” I threw up my hands in exasperation. “If you don’t like the fanny pack, just say so.”

“Oh no, darling, I dearly love a good fanny, that I do.”At that, Ramsay smirked. “Maybe not for the beach though. Tough when you get sand in them.”

“Fine, forget the fanny pack. Clearly you think this is dumb.” I made to get up and stopped when Ramsay threw his head back and laughed, the sound rolling over me in one delightful thunderous wave. It was the first time I’d been the one to make him laugh, freely like this, and the sound stopped me in my tracks. I swear my toes curled in my boots. I gaped at him as he wiped his eyes.

“Och, lass. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but fanny means something different over here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fanny is…” Ramsay nodded toward my pants, and I looked down at myself.

“Is what?”

“Your, um …”

Calvin meowed and Ramsay threw back his head and laughed once more. He got up from the table, howling, and walked into the back room while I furiously googled the Scottish meaning for fanny on my iPad.

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

“Damn it, Ramsay! How was I supposed to know it meant vagina? What the heck do you call them here?”

“I mean, colloquially, we have many terms … fanny, fud, vulvarine, honey pot, bearded clam if you’re crude?—”

“The bags, Ramsay, the bags,” I said quickly, my eyes rounding in horror.

“Oh those? We call them bum bags.”

“Fanny means bum in the States,” I said, enunciatingclearly in case he still didn’t get it. “I would not, nor would I ever, suggest we make a?—”

“Kitty bag?” Ramsay winked at Calvin and laughed again when I cringed.

“I might hate you. I think that I do. I can’t believe…” I winced thinking about his questions. “How many people can use it, he asks. Like it’s a damn toy to be passed around.”

“It’s a fair question, lass.”

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