Gavin glances at his parents. “It’s an American card game, quite easy to learn.”
Jean yawns…I think. Was it fake? It didn’t look real. The sigh was too forced.
“I think I’ll turn on the telly in my room,” she says. “It’s been a long day.”
“Oh no,” Ruby says. “Did you have to work?”
Don laughs. “If shopping is work, Aunt Jean should be promoted.”
“Oh, stop it, you.” She slaps her husband on the arm, but she looks to Gavin quickly. “It’s nearly Christmas. I needed to find a few things.”
Not the same story I got initially. But she did mention the shops, didn’t she? I’m probably overthinking this.
“You’ll probably need to find a few more things tomorrow too, won’t you? When will I have time to work on my book?”
“You’ll have time. We’ll be here until Hogmanay, won’t we?”
Gavin clears his throat. “Some of our guests have never heard of Hogmanay before coming to Scotland.”
Jean draws in a gasp that is far too dramatic for what the situation warrants.
“I only learned about it last year,” Luna says. “But it sounds fun. Parties at midnight. House hopping until the sun comes up. What do people do with their children?”
“Find a sitter for the bairns,” Jean says. “Or bring them along. The whole family goes.”
“Are we doing that this year?” I ask.
“Patty won’t be happy if I don’t bring you,” Gavin says.
My entire body heats a few degrees at that. I haven’t been here long enough to have made a friend, but it feels true to me as well.
“Isn’t there a thing about luck and men who are tall, dark, and handsome?” Ruby asks.
“The first person to cross your threshold on the night of Hogmanay at midnight brings gifts, and if he’s tall with dark hair, it’s seen as good luck.”
“Everyone wants you at midnight then, don’t they?”
“My hair isn’t the darkest,” Gavin says, shrugging. “But it’ll do.”
Jean yawns again. “That’s me finished for the day. Good night, all.”
Don follows her from the room. They’re not gone for a full five seconds before Gavin’s smile is set in place. “Shall I turn on Christmas music to go with our Holiday Rubbish game?”
“Garbage,” I remind him.
“You can’t call it that in the UK.”
“You still know exactly what I mean.”
He shrugs unrepentantly. I can see the challenge, so I square up to him. “Winner of the game tonight gets?—”
“A question?”
I was thinking naming rights, but I want another question, and clearly he does too. I hold his gaze, narrow my eyes like we’re about to face off, and put out my hand to shake. “A questionandnaming rights.”
Gavin cracks a smile. “Deal.”
“What’s going on in here?” Rhys asks from the doorway, looking between us with suggestively raised eyebrows.
