Page 36 of Priceless
“Dull, boring. Rubbish, and all that.”
“Nothing rubbish here.” She took a final bite of pie, then pushed her plate away. “You’ve spoiled me for anywhere else.”
“Excellent. We’ll keep yer table for ye.” He grappled for something to say that would be expected from someone who didn’t know her as well as he did. “How long will ye be in the Highlands?”
“Not sure. I have an itinerary, but nothing is set in stone except my return flight, out of Edinburg.”
“Burra,” he corrected. “It’s Edin-burra.”
“Edin-burra.” She nodded.
“Where are ye stayin’?” he asked, though he already knew. Not only had he suggested the place, he’d followed her taxi there earlier, then followed her since she’d stepped outside again without her luggage and the tan coat.
“At Bluebell House. I just dropped my bags in my room and left. But I did notice the canopy bed. I’ve never slept under a canopy before. I feel like only little girls should do that.”
“All women are wee girls at heart, aren’t they? Surely, that’s why we call ye lassies no matter yer age.”
“Then I should call you laddie, then?”
He snorted. “If ye like.”
“Laddie and lassie, andEdinburra,and naff. Oh! And what did Vonnie call you?Crabbit?”
He cocked his head. “Did she now?”
“Said you’d been crabbit for days, or something like that. I assumed that meant crabby. In a bad mood.”
“Aye, well, I’ve been a bit restless is all. I spend far too much time under this roof.” He looked innocently at the ceiling.
She chuckled. Then bit her lips together for a long while before she spoke again. “Well, if you’re not busy, how do you feel about playing tour guide?”
He grinned from ear to ear. “I thought ye’d never ask.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My new tour guide stood and jangled his keys, eager to get moving. He absolutely refused to let me pay for any part of my lunch, and though it went against everything I’d ever known, he wouldn’t let me leave a tip for Vonnie either.
“Tips arenae necessary here.”
“I just want to show her I’m grateful?—”
“Then thank her and let that be enough.”
I huffed, but I did as he asked and put my wallet away. Customers had been few and far between the whole time I’d been there, but I didn’t dare assume that he needed my business. What did I know about bars, anyway?
“Back to Bluebell House first,” he said. “I have a brolly in the car—that’s an umbrella. But change into boots, or wellies if ye’ve got them. Rubber ones. And a warmer coat.”
I raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious.”
“Only if ye dinnae like wet feet.” His grin was infectious.
“I have boots. And a warmer coat.”
The black SUV he drove looked like it could survive the apocalypse. It had a rack of roll bars with gnarly metal grills across the front and back. He parked beside Bluebell House andcame inside with me, then took a seat in the tiny foyer. I hurried upstairs. In my room, I switched into sturdier boots and traded my thick sweater for my coat with a fur-lined hood. No fuss. Just a quick mirror check. Not a date—just sightseeing, no matter how many butterflies were banging around inside me.
As I came down the stairs, he was standing at the tall desk chatting with the woman who had checked me in. His lips stopped moving when he saw me, then he gave me the once-over. A smile and a nod said he approved. He took my hand, nodded a goodbye to my hostess, and led me out the door and back to the car, where once again he put me in on the left side.
“I don’t think I’ll be around long enough to get used to the wrong side of the car and the wrong side of the road.”
