“You play?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
I can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light, but it looks like his cheeks tinge the slightest bit pink. “On second thought, let me help you out to the truck.”
The Craigs and Mackenzies layer up in hats, scarves, coats, and gloves near the front door. I’ve known this man for all of two days, and his family for about five hours, and it feels likewe’re playing house. The comfort level between us is exceptionally high, but I suppose that’s natural given the way we’ve been thrown together without a buffer.
Nessa tugs her knitted cap over her hair and steps away from the group, nudging me gently aside. “It was lovely to meet you, Callie. I hope we see you again soon.”
“Once this storm clears,” I suggest.
She gives a noncommittal noise. Her eyes are pale blue, so similar to Gavin’s. When she glances at him, then back to me, I can sense she wants to say something private. “We worry about Gavin being alone.” Nessa lowers her voice. “It’s nice to know he has such pleasant companionship.”
Not sure Gavin would use the wordpleasantto describe me. I’m pretty sureharlotorfloozywould pop in his head first.
Okay, not fair. He’s too nice for those words.
Daftis probably more apt.
“There’s plenty of room if you want to stay around longer,” Nessa says in a very not subtle way.
At least one of the Mackenzies likes me. No, scratch that. She’s a Craig. “I have a hard deadline for returning to school,” I remind her.
Nessa squeezes my arm. “We have schools here. Think about it.”
I’ve only been in Scotland for a few days. My program is in LA, and it’s not actually the kind of thing I can just transfer to another school. There’s no point trying to explain all that now, so I nod and smile. The sentiment is sweet.
Gavin walks outside with them while they load into the truck. I watch from the window while the vehicle struggles through the snow. Gavin has to shovel out a path before they can make it to the road, and I hope they make it home without incident.
He stomps his feet at the entrance and leaves his boots in the vestibule between the main front door and the interior frontdoor. This house is so old, there’s literally a small entry room. His cheeks are ruddy from the cold, his hair darkened from the damp the snowflakes left behind, and he’s exceptionally handsome.
I swallow that thought and pretend it never passed through my mind.
“How’s about we imagine this evening never happened?” he asks. “You can go back to hating me, and I can pretend the women in my life didn’t just try to play matchmaker with a poor American tourist.”
Classic repression. He’s totally got major issues with them if he’s going to joke about it on this level, so I accept it. My shoulders come together in a little shrug. “Only if I get to see a picture of you and this Blair lady at the leaving dance.”
Gavin stiffens.
I’ve said the wrong thing. “Or not. I mean, I really want to see you up on those steps, but I’m guessing no one snapped a picture then.”
“On the contrary,” he says. “I don’t know where the photos are. Would you be satisfied with a game of Monopoly instead?”
“You mean the worst board game of all time?”
“Don’t hold your opinions, by all means.”
“You don’t have Clue, do you?”
“You mean Cluedo?”
I stare at him. “Why did you guys feel the need to adddohto that word? Clue wasn’t good enough on its own?”
He stares back. “I have no idea, but it hardly matters. I don’t own it.”
“If you have a deck of cards, I can teach you a game. My family plays a lot, so consider this me giving you a heads up.”
Gavin heads away. “If you’recertainyou wouldn’t prefer Monop?—”
“One hundred percent.”
