“Some,” he admitted.
“All mouth and no brains?”
“Aye, well, the brain doesn’t kick in until around age twenty-five. You’ve had some experience with that?”
She nodded.
“Boyfriend?”
“My brother.”
Although when she thought about it, the same could be said about a couple of boyfriends, one really serious relationship, and a brief marriage.
He nodded. The loss of her brother had been especially hard, according to what Anne had told him. It was there in her eyes, and the way she moved the conversation away.
“It looks like the owner is a serious sports fan.”
Awards and trophies lined the wall behind the bar.
He nodded as the waitress brought their order to their table.
“It’s impossible not to be when you’re in the Highlands.”
“You played?”
It fit that first impression of him—lean, athletic.
“Anne thought it was good for all that pent-up energy when I was a lad.”
She caught the way he glanced over her shoulder toward the bar as their waitress returned, the loud comments with a few crude remarks thrown in.
“You call her by her name,” Kris commented.
His coffee was almost gone. He stared thoughtfully at the cup.
“Aye, well she was very young when I was born,” he explained. “As I got older, we looked to be more brother and sister. Other people called her by her name. So did I, she didn’t seem to mind.”
For the first time since leaving New York, the knot that had throbbed at the base of her skull had begun to unwind. She could have easily slipped into one of those overstuffed chairs in front of the fire and spent the next several hours there. Or possibly days.
“How long will you be at Inverness?”
He had barely touched the food in front of him, accepting another refill of coffee.
“Just a couple of days,” Kris replied. “I need to meet with Cate’s solicitors, then go out to the Tavern.”
It all sounded so business-like.
“Once I have the manuscript she was working on I’ll be going back to New York.”
Except that it wasn’t just business. She took a bite of the sandwich against the all-too-familiar hollow feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.
“Anne was hoping you might stay for a while,” he commented, watching her, the way she pushed her food around but barely touched it.
“I need to get back. There’s a lot to do once I have the manuscript—editing, final decisions about marketing, possibly setting a new release date. It depends on how much work needs to be done.” And that text message. Was it something about the book?
He continued to watch the group at the bar as they ate in silence. Kris grabbed the tab when their waitress returned.
“You paid for the car rental,” she pointed out, and handed her credit card to the girl.
