Page 58 of Some Like It Scot
Whether it was my own thoughts about prayer, my brother’s voice, or the place—or all three—a calmness settled over me. It was so easy to feel alone when I hopped from one place to the next. So easy toforget the important things that grounded me. So easy to convince myself I wanted this solitary dance of adventure.
But if you deflected your heartfelt thoughts long enough, maybe you’d convince yourself you were fine... when you weren’t.
“By the way, did you know you’re trending?”
I came to a complete stop on the path beside some beautiful stone ruins. “What?”
“The article ‘Falling for a Scot’ started this entire social media phenomenon of people predicting the future love life of Miss Adventure. ‘Kelpies or Oyster Cage: Saving the Sassenach’ just came out this morning, and it’s already gotten millions of hits.”
Evidently those night classes on marketing were coming in handy for Brett... and me. So glad he managed those things for me, and definitely a skill to add to his many, in order to find the right job that would allow him to pursue his art. Wait? Did he just say ‘Sassenach’? “Ugh. Dave changed the title again! My original title was just ‘Kelpies or Oyster Cage.’ And I’m not a Sassenach! Sassenachs are English!”
“Well, it’s only increasing your numbers. If you were hoping to make some changes to your travel schedule, your performance the last two years has given you leverage. Maybe Dave’s offer isn’t such a bad thing to think about. Travel and home? Haven’t you always said that if someone could magically give you the best of both worlds, you’d settle down a little?”
Now why did he have to go calling me out like that? Brothers!
But he was right. I didn’t think a possibility of both existed. And I still didn’t, but what if... what if I found it? My diet had consisted of a healthy dose of wanderlust for so long, my brain didn’t even compute “settle down.”
I resumed my walk up the path, a little faster. Change could be good.
Change could be terrible.
“I’m going to send a few more photos to you, but you really need to come here in person, Brett. This place would inspire you.”
“Katie.” His tone lost all humor, bringing me to a stop again. “No matter where you run or how fast or far, you’ll never outrun your own heart. Maybe it’s time to stop trying.”
***
Graeme
There was only one benefit to becoming a pretend butler.
A benefit I hadn’t counted on and would probably lead to heartbreak later.
But everywhere the guests were, so was I. Which meant I had the opportunity to observe Katie Campbell in a not-so-natural habitat. However, despite the charade and faux-Edwardian atmosphere, the real Katie kept showing up because, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think she knew how to pretend.
Though she tried.
But her inability kept me looking in her direction too much for my own good. Adding the fact that she’d jerked off her shoes to help me chase after the pinching parrot while wearing her Edwardian gown and then proceeded to make devastating puns along the way, well... I don’t think my brain fully knew what to do next.
Perhaps I just wanted to sort her out. She didn’t fit my expectations or any mold I knew. Simple curiosity, it was. But the way my body came alive when our eyes met didn’t match “simple curiosity” at all.
There were wounds behind those eyes. Perhaps even fear. All mingled together behind an innocence, intelligence, and—I pinched my lips against a smile—glaikit humor to create the most curious creature.
My gaze took in the simple white gown she wore, something Lennox called a sporting dress, but with her hair piled in curls atopher head, she resembled an elfish beauty. And then she shot me a grin as she came to stand beside me while the other two couples played the first lawn tennis round.
“I hear we’re partnering up for lawn tennis.”
All right. An elfish beauty and a pixie spirit. And she was slowly ensnaring me.
“That’s what I hear too.”
Mark, the eejit, sat nearby, cane at his side. Though he’d joined in the morning cooking lesson, his twisted ankle meant I had to step in as Katie’s partner again.
This time with lawn tennis.
And surprisingly, I didn’t mind my volunteer job as much as I ought, especially since Lennox gave me some slightly more comfortable clothes to wear than the uniform. A white linen suit. But how anyone could play a solid round of tennis in this without staining it from ankles to chin, I had no idea.
“You look”—Katie scanned over me and I sat up straighter—“classy.”
