Page 17 of 40 and (So Over) Fixing It
He snapped out of his thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“You’re never this quiet unless somethin’s on your mind. You’re on vacation, you dafty. ‘Quiet’ shouldn’t be describin’ your mood, exactly.”
Gavin’s words only served to ruffle his feathers further. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Uh-uh. Not buyin’ it.”
Of course he wasn’t. Gavin knew him too well for that. They’d met fresh out of business school at the first firm either of them had worked for, and Carter had become friends with the Scotsman immediately. Now that they’d built their own firm, Gavin was able to travel back and forth between New York and Edinburgh, spending time with his family back home while he handled the international end of their business, but Carter sometimes missed being in the same office. Especially times like these, when he knew JD and Linc would just give him shit if he told them what his brain was chewing on. Gavin tended to be more of a straight shooter. Typical blunt Scot, he said he was.
Might as well spill. “So I might’ve screwed things up a bit.”
“‘Might’ve’? Ya’ve only been there, wha’, two days? How’d ya screw things up already?”
“There’s this woman—”
Gavin’s groan came through the phone loud and clear. “Of course there is.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Of course it’s no’.”
Carter’s sigh this time was more of a huff. “Can I tell the story or not?”
Gavin grumbled on the other end of the line before acquiescing. “Fine, go ’head.”
Carter did. By the end, Gavin wasn’t even bothering to hide his laughter.
“The lass got ya to play the fool yourself.”
“She didn’t make me do anything.”
Gavin barked another laugh. “That’s no’ what I meant and ya know it.”
Carter did. Nearly twenty-five years with Gavin as his friend meant he was used to the odd plays on words that Gavin used.
And in this case, his friend was right. He had played the fool.
He groaned.
“Yeah.” Gavin almost sounded as smug as JD had this afternoon. Too bad he was halfway across the world, way too far for Carter to get his hands on. “Nothin’ for it now but to make amends.”
Carter scrubbed his knuckles over his beard. “Yeah, I know.”
“Ya knew already; ya just needed me to prod ya along.”
Carter snorted at that one. “Don’t get too big for your britches, there, friend.”
“Hey, I can’ help if ya need someone to tell ya what to do.”
“I don’t need someone to tell me what to do.”
“Who’s telling you what to do?” Thad asked behind him. “Is that Mom?”
Gavin laughed in his ear. “Good luck explainin’ that one.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Carter cut off the call and turned to his son. Thad’s dark hair, so like his own, was already springing up from its post-shower wetness to curl around his head as he stood at the French doors leading out to the courtyard. Carter’s hair did that if he didn’t keep it cut close to his head, too. On Thad it was endearing; on a nearly fifty-year-old man whose hair was liberally sprinkled with white? Not so much.
