‘I’ve been saving up my holidays, I don’t go back until the twenty-ninth.’
The not-quite-a-lie sailed smoothly through my lips. No need to tell him I’d been politely forced to take the whole week off because I hadn’t used any of my holiday allowance for the last two years. I was always happier when I was busy, when I had a project to keep me occupied, like researching the roles of pericytes andneighbouring cells in ischaemia and dementia patients, catching up on the latest developments in remyelination, or pretending to be a masseuse named Caroline.
‘OK, don’t take this the wrong way,’ Callum said, almost guaranteeing there was only one way to take it. ‘But what’s in it for you? Why would you even want to help me?’
I had a hundred ready answers. Because his family Christmas in Scotland sounded more appealing than another non-Christmas on Desi’s sofa. Because I’d never been to the Highlands and I had a pair of Grenson Nanette boots still in their box that I impulse purchased more than three years ago. Because I was tired and burned out and felt like doing something stupid. Because nothing about the entire season had felt the same since I lost my mum and I didn’t want to spend another December twenty-fifth steeped in sad memories.
‘It’s Christmas, isn’t it? You’re supposed to help the needy,’ I said instead, tossing away the words as though they meant nothing. ‘You’re doing me a massive favour letting me rent the flat. Pretending to be someone else for a few days really isn’t that big a deal in the greater scheme of things.’
He looked at me, chin lowered, cheeks sucked in while he considered the proposal.
‘You’re serious?’
I swallowed and nodded. I was serious. Seriously certifiable. But now I had a vision of myself wandering through fields of heather in my box-fresh hiking boots, wind blowing through my hair, deep-fried Mars bar in my mouth, I was more invested than ever.
‘I’m not twisting your arm, you can say no,’ I said.‘You can stay here on your tod and eat a microwave dinner on Christmas Day—’
‘Laura, I literally cook for a living.’
‘—or you can say yes and get a life-long pass from parental hassle. It’s entirely up to you.’
Callum wrapped his hands around the back of his neck, eyes closed as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. ‘If you’re serious, I could give you a month’s free rent. As a thank you.’
And just like the Grinch before me, my heart grew three sizes at the thought of going into the New Year with a non-negative bank balance for once.
‘So we have a deal?’ I asked.
‘We have a deal,’ he replied.
I held out my hand and he took it, his handshake firm and professional, but the way his thumb trailed over my skin when I pulled away made my breath hitch in my chest.
‘To Caroline, the antisocial masseuse,’ he said with a smile.
‘To Caroline,’ I repeated. ‘And a very merry McClay Christmas to all.’
Chapter Four
‘You’re completely out of your mind and I’ve never been so angry with you in my life.’
Desi wasn’t taking take the news about my trip as well as I’d hoped.
‘You’re telling me you’ve agreed to nick off to the Scottish Highlands with a complete strangeron Christmasso his weird family can lure you into some ritual sacrifice and skin you alive?’ She stared at me, eyes popped wide, mouth hanging open. ‘I should lock you in this room and board it up from the outside.’
‘Probably,’ I agreed as I rummaged through the pile of clean washing on the bed, randomly tossing T-shirts and socks at my open suitcase. ‘Sounds fun, doesn’t it?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘It doesn’t.’
‘I think it sounds fun,’ Joel commented from his spot on the floor where he was currently curating my festive wardrobe.
Since my work clothes were all horribly dull and neutral, I had a tendency to go the other way with my downtime outfits. Not that I was ever out of sweatpantsor pyjamas but if I did decide I wanted to venture out into the world, my civilian wardrobe was made up of random brightly coloured bits and pieces bought on a whim. Desi had more than once accused me of having the style of a hyperactive toddler. I preferred eccentric rainbow fan. Her description was more accurate.
‘Funandsexy,’ Joel added. ‘I love a Scotsman. Does he have an accent? Tell me the bit about him covering his peen with your bobble hat again. Did it all fit?’
‘It’s only a few days,’ I said to Desi, ignoring Joel to the best of my ability. ‘Think of it as a minibreak, a wee jaunt up to bonny Scotland with Dave’s friend to get some fresh air and … well, I’m not sure what else. Whatever people do in Scotland.’
‘Drink whisky, toss cabers and wear kilts?’ Joel offered.
‘That sounds a tad stereotypical.’ I frowned. ‘I’m sure there’s a lot more to it than that.’
