Page 6 of Grace on the Rocks

“Story of my life,” the copilot agreed, taking her own seat, andTeàrlachburst out laughing.

Bryan stretched his legs as far as there was room without kicking the wheelchair stowed behindTeàrlach’sseat.Thenhe buckled up and took out the new fidget spinner.

Hell of a time to lose his grandfather’s worry stone.Ithad been right there in his pocket, just like always, but then security was a typical chaos of shouted orders to “Takeout your liquids,” “Emptyyour pockets,” “Stepforward—not that far forward,” followed by “We’regoing to wand you,” and “Isthere anything in your bag that could hurt me?”

Somewhere in all that mess, the stone had vanished.Fitting, in a way, for the one piece of home he’d taken with him when he left, the rainbow-colored token of love and pride, to be free ofBarraforever.Anairport fidget spinner was a poor replacement, though.

He should have spent more time searching the floor around his security lane, but then he might have missed his opportunity to bicker with theAmericanatWHSmith.Whatexactly had gotten into him?Hedidn’t go around picking fights, especially not with brown-eyed strangers.Therewas just something about her... mostly something that got under his skin.

“Didn’t buy a ticket because he didn’t want a whole welcome committee, more like,”Teàrlachtold his copilot.

“I didn’t know you’d be full up.”

His cousin clucked his tongue. “It’stheBàgha’Chiùilfestival.You’vebeen away too long.”

“Bay-a-whatsits…?” the copilot asked.

“It’sGaelic.ItmeansBayofMusic,”Teàrlachexplained.

Bryan groaned.Sothis wasn’t just typical summer tourism.Theisland would be overrun with festivalgoers.Godhelp him.

“How long’s it been since you were here?” the copilot asked.Shewas young and pretty, tall and black, and most importantly not related to any ofBryan’sisland kin.Hewondered ifTeàrlachwas dating her.Shemade him laugh, which was nice to hear.

“Seventeen years,” his cousin answered for him, and the copilot turned toBryanfor confirmation.

“Half my life,” he agreed with a nod.

She whistled. “Someonemust have really pissed you off.”

Teàrlach glanced back at him too and then answered for him once more. “Nah, he just ran out of girls to shag that he wasn’t related to.”

“Easy,”Bryangrowled, and this time the copilot roared with laughter, slapping her instrument panel in a way that made him nervous.Hewanted to warn her to be careful, but he bit his tongue and fidgeted his spinner faster.

“There’s always boys,” she gasped.

“Ran out of them too,”Teàrlachteased, and now the copilot was wheezing.

Bryan already regretted going home.

“Festival’s gotten pretty popular the last few years,”Teàrlachwent on. “Sureyou won’t have any trouble finding a tourist to claim.”

“No thanks.”

His cousin was overexaggerating his conquests a bit.Touristtail had almost always been too cliché forBryan.

“Some of them out there are pretty,” the copilot said, nodding towards the cabin. “Wantme to put in a good word?”

Bryan scowled and shook his head as a tan face with dark brown eyes flooded his vision—the snarky woman from the airport shop again.Whyher of all people?Andnow she was on his plane, heading tohisisland.

He hadn’t meant to be an arse.Inan anxious rush to make the flight, he’d tried to say,Pardon, but his larynx snagged on thePso his brain substituted the simplest path forward, instead:You’rein the way.Heeven sounded like a prick to his own ears.Nowonder she’d been insulted and turned into every primary school bookworm who’d ever looked down their bespectacled noses at him for struggling to read.Inturn, he’d lashed out with schoolboy taunts, back and forth like a pair of hissing felines.

What was it about going home that turned him into such a child?

“You sure?I’vebeen known to be a pretty good matchmaker,” the copilot offered.

“Thanks, but no,” he said. “I’mnot here for that.”

“What are you here for?”Teàrlachasked evenly, but there was a tension simmering below the surface.

---