Page 27 of Priceless
Worse yet, what else had he omitted?
What had truly kept him from sleeping was a late-night exchange with the American lass. He’d just begun to nod off and nearly missed it.
I didn’t text today because I’ve been
…tied up.
Jacob stared at the dots that came and went, trying to read between them.
Should I be worried?
Only if you count bagpipes as a threat.
A cold knot formed in his stomach.
…Go on.
I was window shopping on the Royal Mile and got a little lost. Turned a corner, into an alley—or a close, or whatever they call it here—and there’s this man. Bent over, messing with his sock. The wind kicks up and lifts the back of his kilt…
He smiled—until she kept going.
I was shocked—honestly shocked—that he was wearing underwear. I laughed before I could stop myself.
Ye laughed?
Yes, and when he stood and turned, I said, “I think you’re cheating.”
…
And he said, “I think ye’re peakin’.” We laughed for a long time.
To Jacob, it felt like someone stood at his shoulder and poured a bucket of cold water down his back. Against his will, an image formed—her in that narrow close, rain in her hair, laughing up at some kilted stranger, and he laughing with her. The image lodged in his chest like a splinter the size of a knife.
A shared cup of coffee led to an evening walk, which led to dinner, and now—drumroll please—I’m engaged to a bagpiper named Munro!
His jaw locked so hard it ached. He set the phone down before he cracked the screen, then he stood and crossed the flat. His hand found the doorframe and pressed into it—hard—until the wood creaked under his palm. Not enough to break it. Just enough to keep from breaking himself.
When he could trust his fingers not to shake, he retrieved the phone.
I should congratulate ye on what sounds like a whirlwind romance. I should have warned ye about involvin’ yerself with pipers, however. Musicians, typically, arenae to be trusted.
He set the phone face-down and leaned his forehead against the wall, absorbing the quiet until the tightness in his chest eased enough to breathe.
He should have met her at the airport and confessed everything! He should have bought a ticket to get through security, found her as soon as her foot touched down, and confessed!
Oy! He should have never entered that chatroom in the first place!
He took deep breaths and tried to keep his head. Any woman who would fall so easily for a man in one day wasn’t the woman for him in any case.
An angel on his shoulder quickly pointed out that he, himself, had been hoping she would do that very thing once they met face to face…
“But a piper!” He pounded the wall twice with the side of his fist, then stopped before someone down in the bar might think he needed aid.
Jocko?
He considered never replying again, but that would be mean, and he wasnae a mean man, even when sorely disappointed.
Perhaps the shops would take the clothes back…
