Page 95 of Some Like It Scot
“You can’t go off telling it though, Katie, because my agent has made it a point for no one to know the true author behind mypseudonym.” Calum wiggled his brows. “He thinks it adds more mystery to my brand.”
“I’m glad it keeps any fans away,” Kenneth offered, filling his fork with some more steak pie and sending another grin to me. “But I reckon the anonymity keeps Calum humble, which is a feat all on its own.”
“Dad.” Calum pressed a palm to his chest as if wounded and then turned back to me. “Dinnae believe a word from them about me, Katie. I’m the very model of a modest man.”
“You know God hears ye talkin’, don’t cha?” Graeme shot back across the table. “And right after a sermon on meekness too.”
The family’s laughter erupted again, and my heart filled almost to overflowing with it all. In fact, I had to take a few extra drinks of my flavored water to get my emotions under control.
“Truth be told, my agent has some braw scheme to reveal my true identity”—he straightened with a bit of exaggerated pride—“through some brilliant marketing idea. I’m not sure what it is yet, but he’s always full of grand ideas.”
“Sounds familiar.” Graeme rolled his eyes heavenward as he shook his head in exasperation. “True identity? You sound like a bloomin’ superhero, Calum.”
“Who’s to say I’m not?” He wiggled his brows at Graeme. “Saving one uninspired reader at a time.”
“Och, away with ye!” Graeme shot back, sending a wink over to me as he scooted a teensy bit closer.
Maybe I was dreaming. A wonderful dream. “Fiction is a fantastic genre to choose, especially fantasy,” I finally added to the ongoing conversation as the men kept ribbing one another. “But I didn’t realize how difficult and exciting it would be all at once to make the stories and characters come to life.”
“Oh!” Calum gave the room a look before settling his eyes back on me. “Are ye writing somethin’ then?” He leaned close, his flirt vibeson display from the twinkle in his eyes. “Care to share with a fellow writer?”
“If you lean any closer over the table, Calum, you’re going to get your shirt in the sauce.” Graeme ground out the words and rested his arm on the chair behind me.
Staking his claim a little, maybe? Because I was, well, pretty good with that.
“It’s nothing as impressive as writing adult fiction.” I shook my head, butterflies taking off in my stomach. I’d only shared my little stories with Brett and his kids. They’re the ones who inspired the idea to begin with.
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Calum’s expression sobered. “Writing good fiction for children can be as difficult if not more so than for adults.”
“What’s it about?” Graeme’s voice pulled my attention to him. His arm propped up behind me, his face so close, I hesitated a little in his gaze.
Struggling with my thoughts.
And then actual words.
“Um... it’s a middle reader series.” I turned back to the other people at the table, hoping my face didn’t match the color of my hair. “A little secret project I’ve been working on for a few years.”
“We writers and our secrets, eh, Katie?” Calum wiggled his brows and Graeme proceeded to, apparently, insult his brother in Gaelic, if Mirren’s slap on Graeme’s shoulder gave any indication.
“And?” Graeme gave my arm an encouraging squeeze, the motion gently placing his arm against my back.
I considered myself “claimed,” if he was interested in a traveling daydreamer with a tricky past and a clumsy future.
“And...” I drew in a deep breath, attempting to manage expectations. “It’s about a girl who goes on marvelous adventures with her dad who is a travel writer. It’s my way of helping kids explore the world.”
“I like that idea,” Lachlan offered, before cramming a large piece of bread in his mouth. “I like adventure books.”
Or at least that’s what I thought he said.
“Are you keen to share any of it?”
I’d just taken another bite of steak pie, and my attention swooped to Calum. All the newfound heat drained from my face. “What?”
“I’d be happy to read some of it, if you’re willing.”
He looked serious. And interested.
I pushed through a swallow. “Oh, I... I...”
