Page 24 of Some Like It Scot
Perhaps she fit into Craighill’sexperiencebetter than I originally thought.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m trying to find a spot to set my camera so I can make a video.”
My frown curled deeper. “Why?”
“Why?” She spun around, eyes wide. “Because you have this.” She gestured back toward the horizon. “The combination of colors, atmosphere, and beauty. And I want to capture it as best I can. I just need to...” And then her attention grew in intensity, eyes narrowingon me. She tilted her head in her examination, her gaze starting at my forehead and trailing all the way down to my boots.
I shifted a step away from her.
I’d had Seamas, the crazy Highland cow, look at me the very same way, and it didn’t end well.
For me.
She stepped closer, continuing to study me. “You’re a great height for this, and I don’t usually get to say that.”
I’d be lying if I said I’d never been scared by a woman. Any red-blooded man who’d lived among the fairer sex for any time at all had had a little fear (even if he tried to hide it) of at least one lass in his life. They could change in a second. Or attempt to mind read poorly, and then men bear the brunt of their frustration over imaginary offenses. Or, even worse, they mind read well, which could cause even bigger troubles.
I avoided eye contact.
It hadn’t helped with Seamas the cow, but perhaps it might with Katie the Crazy.
I crossed my arms and set my feet as if readying for battle. “A height for what?”
She stilled her approach. “For a video.”
I tightened the cross of my arms. “I’m not going to be in one of your social media videos, Katie.” And her name rolled off my tongue much too easily. A name well at home in these hills.
“I’m not videoingyou, Mr. Grump.” She pushed the camera into my chest, and one of my hands unfolded from its crossed position to catch the device. “You’revideoingme.”
Mr. Grump? I was not grumpy and would have told her so if she didn’t just turn and walk back the way she’d come. “All right, I’m going to start walking toward the horizon, and I want you to push the button there, on top, and just follow me as I walk. I’ll edit out any extras, but make sure you get the loch and the buttercups.”
My body nearly bristled at her directives. First Mum and now some stranger telling me what to do. More reason to steer clear of women as a general rule.
She paused and looked back at me, her nose wrinkling with a frown like a little girl who’d done something wrong. “Sorry, I just bossed you around like you were a cameraman, didn’t I?” Her shoulders scrunched in further plea, and all my grand resolve caved like the eejit I continued to be. “Would you please video me? It won’t take but a minute.”
I frowned like the grump I apparently was and raised the camera in answer.
Her smile flashed wide, and then she fluffed her hair so that it fell around her shoulders before proceeding to walk away from the camera. I pushed the button, and the numbers at the top of the screen started counting.
She continued walking away from the camera, legs taking long strides forward, and then she turned, raised a brow, and shrugged one of her shoulders, before waving toward the horizon in invitation.
Those eyes stared at me from the other side of the camera, dazzling and engaging, as if they looked directly into my soul. My throat squeezed against the awareness, the attraction.
A fleeting thing. Nothing to worry about. It had just been a while since a somewhat interesting stranger came through Glenkirk and into my world.
“Great!” she exclaimed, bringing her hands together as she moved back to me and plucked the camera from my hands. “Thank you so much.”
She stared down at the screen, reviewing the video, and then cast me a look. “Great job. Usually when I have strangers video, I get more thumbs than usable content, but you focused right in on my face and the view.”
I cleared my throat and shoved my hands back in my pockets. “Is that something you usually do for your work?”
She nodded, kneeling down to tuck the camera back in her bag. “I usually do three a week and have people guess”—she waved her hand in front of her as if displaying a title in the air—“what misadventure will I find today?”
“Don’t you mean ‘adventure’?”
“Nope. I make a living off my misadventures.” She stood, pulling her rucksack over her shoulder before leaning down to collect her fishing rod. “So, basically, I get paid to mess up.” A shadow passed over her features as she stood. “And it’s something I’m really good at doing because I tend to mess up a lot.”
