The only thing I needed was some alone time.
‘Long enough to shower and change,’ I told him, giving myself a desultory sniff. ‘I can’t go down in this state.’
‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘You’re not trying to impress anyone, remember?’
‘New plan. I charm your mum and dad, they disinherit you and adopt me.’
‘How about we get through the family feed first then see how you feel,’ Callum suggested, tickling my ears with a low chuckle. He pointed to a white-painted door on the other side of the room. ‘You’ve got the en suite, through there, and I’m next door if you need anything. Otherwise I’ll knock for you at …’ He looked down at a particularly lovely leather-strapped watch I hadn’t noticed before. ‘Half-Eleven?’
After a sleepless night, not nearly enough coffee and a distinct lack of sunlight, I had no idea what time it was but I was fairly used to operating in high-pressure situations under those exact circumstances, and so I agreed with a disorientated nod. Callum cocked his head to one side, a concerned half-smile on his face.
‘You sure you’re good?’
‘Never been better,’ I lied, holding my breath until he looked away. ‘Look at this place, it’s heaven.’
‘Then I’ll be back in a bit,’ he relented, heading for the door. ‘And we’ll get this show on the road.’
Chapter Eleven
Forty-five minutes would normally be more than enough time for me to get ready for anything. Years spent on call at the hospital meant I could function on very little sleep and had my ready-to-go routine down to a five-minute art but, somehow, I’d lost more than half an hour in the hot, steamy shower, luxuriating in the fancy shampoos and shower gels in a way I never allowed myself at home. When Callum knocked on my bedroom door, I was still running around in my underwear, trying to choose between two of my more reliable outfits: jeans and a jumper or a skirt and a shirt. One of the benefits of wearing scrubs was not having to care too much about your day-to-day clothes. Without my professional camouflage, I felt exposed.
‘I can’t believe I’m going down with wet hair,’ I seethed, furious with myself as I followed Callum down the corridor in my mismatched skirt and jumper combo ‘Your mother is going to think I’m a monster.’
‘Good. They’re not supposed to like you, remember?’
‘Not going to be a problem,’ I replied. ‘I thought youmight be wearing a kilt. Jeans and T-shirt doesn’t feel very Scotsman.’
He looked back at me over his shoulder. ‘Say more things like that and you’ll have no problem offending them.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m fully armed with offensive stereotypes,’ I assured him. ‘Worst comes to the worst, I’ll pull out myBraveheartimpression and we’ll have this whole plot wrapped up and put to bed before Christmas Eve.’
‘I was thinking,’ Callum began as we passed through the grand foyer, the tree still sparkling beautifully. ‘We should have a code word. In case you need an out.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Such as?’
‘It needs to be something specific,’ he went on as we walked down a long hallway lined with windows, ‘that you wouldn’t normally use in everyday conversation so I’ll know what you mean when you use it.’
Not a code word, a safe word. He was suggesting we needed a safe word.
‘OK, you pick one,’ I told him, absolutely not flashing back to every single spicy novel I’d ever read. Callum bobbed his head in time with his steps.
‘Mackerel?’ he offered.
‘Mackerel?’ I was outraged. ‘What about me makes you think about mackerel?’
‘Nothing! It was the first thing that came into my head! You choose one.’
‘How about anastomosis?’ I said. ‘That’s a fun word.’
‘For you maybe,’ he replied. ‘What does it even mean?’
‘In layman’s terms, joining together two previously unconnected structures. Like, nerves or blood vessels.’
Callum considered then shook his head. ‘Thank youfor breaking it down to a layman. Oddly sweet but no. If you can’t say it after two drinks, it’s too complicated.’
The end of the corridor was only a few steps away, a grand pair of double doors concealing what sounded like an awful lot of activity.
‘Tamagotchi,’ I suggested.
