‘Just Desi.’
I stretched my arms overhead in a show of relaxation until my too-big pyjama bottoms began to fall down and I had to grab them to avoid an inadvertent flashing disaster.
‘Couldn’t find the toaster.’
His eyebrows drew together, a quizzical look on his face.
‘Didn’t you tell me you were living with her?’
‘Yes?’
‘And she doesn’t know where the toaster is in her own flat?’
I ran my tongue over my top teeth, eyes sliding over to the window as if an answer might pop out of the fields and hills as we whizzed by.
‘Wouldn’t know where her head was if it wasn’t screwed on,’ I offered. ‘Useless is Desi.’
‘Should I bother asking why she keeps the toaster on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard?’
‘Desi has a gluten intolerance. We try to keep the crumbs out of her way. Because of the intolerance.’
‘So she needs the toaster because?’
There was no way he believed me. I didn’t even sound as though I believed me. But at least neither of us were thinking about his penis any more. Or at least we weren’t until I looked directly at his crotch and coloured up at once.
‘Train’s running on time,’ Callum said brusquely, standing up and turning his back to me as he pulled his plaid flannel back on over his T-shirt. ‘Breakfast should be here in half an hour unless you’d rather eat in the club car again.’
‘Club car sounds good to me. Change of scenery and all that,’ I replied, still clutching my phone in one hand and pyjama bottoms in the other. ‘Why don’t I meet you in there? Say in five minutes?’
He didn’t need telling twice.
‘Sounds like a plan.’
He opened the door, gave me a nod and then he was gone, door clattering closed behind him.
‘Oh, Laura,’ I muttered to myself as I dropped to my knees to recover my backpack from under the bed. ‘So much for staying detached.’
Underneath the bed, right next to my bag, was a small square of worn, brown leather. A wallet. I opened it up to find the usual: credit cards, loyalty cards, a driving licence and, in a clear patched pocket on the other side, a photograph. It was Callum’s wallet but he wasn’t alone in the photo. His hair was much shorter than he wore it today, cropped almost to his skull, but his eyes were shining and he grinned at the camera in a way I really hadn’t seen yet, carefree and unburdened. Pressed up against him, cheek to cheek, was a woman. Long blonde hair, crystal-clear green eyes, a flawless complexion. It had to be non-world-famous supermodel and donkey saviour, Shiv, supposedly out of his life but still in his wallet. They looked perfect together, utterly gorgeous, made for each other.
Clearing my throat, I tossed the wallet on the bed and went back to my bag, pulling out clothes and dressing quickly, a new and unexpected sense of frustration blossoming. If Callum didn’t want to marry Shiv, if he was the one who broke up with her a whole year ago, why did he still have her photo in his wallet?
When searching for a diagnosis, I’d been taught to make a hypothesis then look at all the available evidence to prove or disprove it until I was left with the most likely result. Right now, all the information available to me pointed towards one incontrovertible truth. The photograph. His careful wording. The fact this stupidly hot man had remained single for an entireyear and made up a fake girlfriend rather than find a real one.
‘He never said he didn’twantto marry her,’ I whispered to myself, glancing down at the open wallet, a slender crease in the plastic pocket slicing the happy couple in two. ‘Only that he wanted to decide when to propose.’
If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say there was at least a ninety percent chance Callum McClay was still in love with his ex-girlfriend.
And I didn’t like that at all.
Chapter Nine
Scotland was cold.
It shouldn’t have been a shock, the country didn’t exactly advertise itself as a balmy, tropical destination, but I was not prepared for the bitter blast of frigid air that greeted me when I stepped off the train at Inverness. A gust of wind so strong it almost knocked me off my unprepared feet blew down the platform, and I cursed myself for choosing my adorable pink duffle coat rather than the practical puffer Desi tried to foist on me. A mental run-through of my packing confirmed I was going to be cold for the following five days unless I wore all my clothes at once.
I would be wearing all my clothes at once.
‘All right?’ Callum asked as he took custody of my suitcase from the porter.
