Page 94 of Some Like It Scot
“I’m pretty sure Lachlan is questioning all of my food choices at this point.” I grinned as much at Kenneth’s wink as at the overall joy of being in the thick of such a place. “Especially since not finding Irn-Bru to my liking.”
The men all groaned in response.
“Not to worry, Katie.” Calum leaned closer from his place beside Lachlan. “If we keep you here long enough, Irn-Bru will grow on ye.”
Clearly, Calum inherited the charm gene from both his parents, but his darker eyes were from his father. He teased often, laughed readily, and flirted shamelessly with me, which wasn’t necessarily bad when it meant Graeme kept finding a way to stay close.
The whole day kept warring between my hopes and fears. Church and now a family lunch. I almost sent a gaze heavenward to question God’s faith in my personal strength and self-control.
“Where do you travel next, Katie?” This from Mirren.
“I actually am attending my first Renfaire in Kentucky for two days, followed by a special alpaca festival for another two before I return home for a couple of weeks.”
“An alpaca festival?” Graeme cleared his throat, his grin hidingnone of his amusement. “I can’t imagine any trouble happening to you there.”
“Right?” My gaze caught in his, attraction pinging between us like a pinball machine. “Now that I’m a sheep master, my Jedi powers should transfer to other creatures automatically.”
The family laughed, and I took a bite of steak pie with a sigh. Boy, this reminded me of my grandparents’ house so much. Even the food. I’d thought meals and families like this had disappeared with them, but here I was, living in a scene so familiar yet so different. The closeness. The ease. I hadn’t realized just how much I ached for it—the depth of what I’d lost when my grandparents died—until this reintroduction.
And I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the discovery. It was almost too much. Too wonderful. Overwhelmingly sweet.
“Do you ever rest?” Kenneth asked, offering me a basket of bread.
“I feel pretty rested right now.” I took his offering.
“Now, lass, you ken what I mean. Everyone needs a time and place to settle.”
“Says the man who works about ten hours a day,” Mirren said, raising a brow toward him.
He pinched his lips tight with a fake frown. “Now, my heart, I take days and hours when I’m needed or wanted, don’t I?” His cooing endearment melted Mirren’s ire like ice cream in an Arizona summer. He turned his attention back to me. “University hours can be long, especially when I must take the ferry to the mainland each day.”
“He’s such a good professor, he keeps getting promoted, and there’s naught I can do about it, Katie-girl.” Mirren kissed the man on the head, resulting in him pulling her into a side hug.
“But I am homeeverynight to settle my heart, Katie.” His gaze caught mine and held, much like Mirren’s. Mind-reading skills must run in the family. “It doesnae sound as if you’re home very much at all.”
I failed to mention the idea of “home” was just that to me. An idea. Though the scene before me looked and felt a whole lot like what home should be.
I was saved from responding by Calum. “You must really like traveling then?”
He was clean-cut and his hair hung a little longer than Graeme’s—not quite to the shoulders but close. And he wasn’t quite as tall or broad as his elder brother, but not far off. Both got their stature from their dad. Mirren barely came to five foot four.
“I love it. It’s been an amazing part of my life, and I’ve finally gotten to a point where I’m not having to race around like a starving rat to find the next story.” I took a drink of my sparkling pressé. “My editor even has me doing a trial run at editing.”
“So there’s good money in it?” he continued. “Writing?”
His eyes took on a strange glimmer as if he meant something different than he said.
“Therecanbe if you cobble together different sources of income, as I have over the years.” I studied him. “And if you can find your niche and write well.”
“He’s making sport of you, Katie.” Graeme nudged my shoulder with his own. “Because he’s fairly exploding with the need for you to ask him about writing.”
“Och, Graeme. Dinnae give away my secret.” But Calum’s exclamation came with more drama than real frustration.
“Your secret?” I laughed out the question. “Oh right. Lachlan mentioned something about your books being for sale at the Highland games.”
“Aye.” Mirren topped off my water. “Calum’s a fiction writer, and his first series has been very popular. Fantasy, they are.”
“Really?’ I swung my attention to him. “That’s fabulous.”
