“Well,” I yell towards his bare backside while suppressing a laugh, “someone’s certainly making themselves at home!”
His laughter echoes off the loch. “Ah, Mills, yerawake! Shield those beautiful peepers for a sec while I make myself decent.”
I roll my eyes but obey nonetheless. When he tells me I can look again, he’s standing ever so close: jeans hugging his hips but still shirtless and barefooted, water droplets cascading down onto me.
“Goddammit!” I internally groan, but it quickly morphs into an internal growl.
Seriously, universe? Can you throw me a bigger curveball?
First, I time-travel, and now I’m getting an unsolicited peep show from a Highland Adonis. Holy smokes, the man is blazing! If this isn’t a test of my resolve—and sanity—I don’t know what is.
If he’s not on today’s menu, then someone better bring me a piping hot cup of coffee, stat.
Once I catch my breath, I notice Cal trying to start a fire. I hoist myself up to help gather twigs, shaking my head at this wild twist life has taken. Scotland promised adventure and inspiration; instead, it handed me a sizzling epic saga.
“Look at this,” Cal blurts out suddenly, thrusting a limp fish into view with an ear-to-ear grin that screams victory.
“Caught it with me bare hands.”
“Well done, you!”
Biting back both repulsion and amusement at his delight over his catch du jour, I let out an airy chucklewithout probing for any gory details about its downfall.
I’ll sit tight and enjoy the view. I mean, really, who wouldn’t be grateful to have their very own Highlander on board for such a wild ride?
Cal getsthe fire roaring with a finesse that makes my previous struggles with the cottage fireplace look downright pathetic.
“How do you do this so effortlessly?” I marvel as we find our seats on an old fallen tree trunk warmed by the flickering flames.
He’s busy threading fish onto a stick for grilling and shoots me a grin that’s pure boyish mischief.
“Boy scouts for six years, and a firestarter survival knife in my back pocket.” He flicks open a steel, cord-wrapped knife with a wink, then closes it and tucks it back into its sheath in his jeans pocket.
We burst into laughter so infectious it leaves me wiping tears from my cheeks. When we finally regain control of our breaths, I figure it’s time to show him I can also handle whatever curveballs this adventure throws.
“So, no sign of pirates or wildcats yet,” I venture, “Maybe we’ve landed in an era that’s not completely uncivilized?”
“Dinnae go counting yer chickens just yet, weestory,” he says, his voice threaded with affection and caution. “Let’s keep our cards close until we have a better sense of this place and maybe make some allies. Our modern clothes and lingo could get us into serious trouble–they’ve hung people for less.”
“Do you think they even speak English here?”
“From what I remember readin’ at the church, English started trickling in around 1500 but wasn’t exactly embraced. We should stick to Scots Gaelic until we hear what’s being spoken. Just try to follow my lead.”
After filling up on grilled fish breakfast and extinguishing the fire, we head towards what appears to be a church steeple in the distance. As we near what looks suspiciously like a village, butterflies take off in my stomach.
“Cal, hold up a sec!” I call out, urging him to freeze mid-stride.
“You know I can’t speak Gaelic! I need a strategy here. How do I avoid looking suspicious? Should I pretend to be mute? Or act like I’ve taken a vow of silence?”
Cal chuckles. “Aye, that might just work! Just claim you’re a traveler, and for the love of God, don’t mention selfies.”
“Hilarious,” I roll my eyes. “But first things first, we need clothes from this era. My boots and your boat shoes are screaming alien invasion.”
A smirk tugs at his lips as he glances at our mismatched footwear.
“Can’t argue there. But I think your boots suit ye. They’re very 21st-century woman kicks adulting to the curb.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “Seriously though, blending in is key. We need to find a clothing shop or something along those lines.”