Page 76 of The American Wives Club

"Please," I say in my most sarcastic tone. "I could get her back anytime, but I didn't want to rob you of your one and only victory."

"Ye bloody erse—"

"Shut up!" Kate shouts. "Somebody grab a ruler. Let's get the measuring done with."

"Don't bother," I say. "Countless women can testify that I have an enormous—"

"Zip it, Hugh." Kate glances at my nemesis, and one corner of her mouth curls up in a slight smirk. "I know exactly what kind of equipment Callum has."

Luke Turner laughs and slaps his palms together. "Damn, this is amazing. Never seen results like this before. Both of you are displaying psychological signals like nothing I've ever measured. You guys get each other more aroused than any of my previous subjects."

"I am not aroused," I snarl.

"Relax, buddy. I'm not talking about sex. It's emotional arousal."

"Thank you for stating the obvious. An argument is emotionally stimulating. Aren't you a genius?"

Luke glances at Damian. "I think my job is done. Your turn."

"Get off your erses, laddies," Logan says. "Carry your chairs over to the other table. "

I stand up. "We have to move furniture for you? I knew there was an ulterior motive."

"Do it or I will skelp ye both myself."

Callum and I exchange nasty looks as we relocate our chairs to the little round table, sitting across from each other again. Kirsty and Damian haven't moved an inch, both seated sideways to me and Callum.

"Here's how this part of the intervention will work," Damian says. "Kirsty will access herda-shealladhto get a bead on you while I read your palm."

I glance at Kirsty, then Damian. "She will access her what?"

"Da-shealladh. It's Scottish Gaelic for second sight."

"Ohhh, so we've moved on to the complete bollocks portion of the day's festivities."

Callum glowers at me. "Donnae insult my cousin. Wouldnae kill you to be more open-minded."

"You can't honestly tell me you believe in this nonsense."

"Maybe not, but I respect Kirsty's beliefs."

"This is ridiculous." I half rise from my chair. "I'm done with this carnival of Scottish lunacy."

"Sit down," Logan commands, and even from fifteen feet away, he projects menace. "Or are ye wanting us to tie you to the chair and tape your mouth shut?"

I drop back onto my chair. Not because I'm intimidated. No, I've simply decided there's no point in arguing.

Damian grabs my hand, turning it over to expose the palm. "Now just relax."

"With a crowd staring at me?"

Callum huffs. "Since when are you shy?"

"Shut your trap," Damian tells Callum. "Palmistry is a delicate art."

The self-proclaimed gypsy starts exploring my palm with his fingertips, swirling them around and tracing the line of every crease in my skin. "You've got air hands."

I grunt.

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