"I will be, don't worry."I'm still swallowing hard but the situation is improving."Could you maybe save theFast and Furiousmoves for when we're actually being chased?"
He chuckles, patting my thigh."Noted.Though I was just warming up."
Somehow Kirk makes me feel both irritated and ridiculously attracted to him at the same time.How does he do that?
Archie pops his head up from the backseat."The lass needs something to settle her stomach, aye?"
Kirk grumbles, but he's already scanning the road ahead."There's a petrol station with a small shop just up the way.We can stop for a minute."
"Oh thank goodness."The words rushed out of me and my stomach still feels like I've been on a tilt-a-whirl after consuming a large greasy burger."I hope the road to that castle isn't too curvy."
"Rest assured, I will take your tummy into consideration while driving."Kirk focuses on the road again, now driving at a reasonable speed.The man seems to have only two settings---zero and one hundred---with nothing in between.
"I've got a flask of Thane Black Label in my bag," Archie offers, rustling around in the back seat."My gran swears it cures everything from seasickness to the common cold."
"That's very sweet of you, but I don't think whisky is the solution to my nausea."The thought of that smooth, peaty liquid does have a certain appeal.Maybe I could handle a tiny sip.Ugh.No, booze is a bad idea.It might make things worse."No whisky, please."
"What about some butterscotch?"Archie helpfully suggests."It's a Scottish delicacy, and I always carry some in my pack."
"Sure, that sounds okay.Thank you, Archie.You're very thoughtful."
He digs around in his backpack, finding a single piece of the confection.I nibble it at first, still uncertain of how well this will go down in my tummy.But as I let the candy slowly dissolve on my tongue, I do begin to feel better.Within only a minute or two, the nausea has vanished.
"Wow, Archie, your remedy works wonders.Thank you."
"Glad to help, Gretchen.My gran's a wise woman."Archie grins from the back seat."Some things are ingrained in the Scottish blood."
"Your gran sounds wonderful," I tell him, feeling my equilibrium returning."Does she have any other miracle cures I should know about?"
"Oh, hundreds.Whisky for most ailments, heather honey for sore throats, and she swears by rubbing a potato on warts during a full moon."
Kirk snorts."Don't encourage him.He'll have you believing in faeries and selkies next."
"Says the man who won't walk under a ladder," Archie shoots back.
"That's simple common sense," Kirk grumbles, pulling into the petrol station.The small convenience store glows with fluorescent light against the darkening sky."We'll make this quick.In and out, no stopping for a wee chat with the locals.Gretchen, what do you need?"
"Just some water and maybe crackers or plain bread if they have it."I'm feeling better already, but I figure having some stomach-settling provisions for the road ahead is smart."And maybe a ginger ale."
Kirk nods curtly and kills the engine."I'll go.You two stay put."
"Och, come on," Archie protests."I need to stretch my legs, and I could use a proper snack.Those butterscotch pieces are meant for emergencies, not sustenance."
Kirk gives him a hard stare that would make most men shrink back, but Archie just raises his eyebrows expectantly.These Scots are stubborn as mountains.But Kirk finally succumbs to the inevitable.
"All right, Archie," Kirk sighs."But we move quickly and stay together."
I consider asking if this is really necessary---the whole sticking-together thing---but I won't push my luck.Kirk has already slowed down for my queasy stomach, which feels like a minor miracle considering the high-speed chase we've been through.
We climb out of the SUV, and I savor the moment my feet touch solid ground.The cool evening air feels glorious after being cooped up in that car with Kirk's maniacal driving.Archie stretches his arms above his head, releasing a theatrical groaning noise.
"Right then," Kirk says, scanning the perimeter like we're about to infiltrate enemy headquarters instead of buying snacks."Let's move."
The bell above the door jingles as we enter.It's a typical small-town convenience store with slightly dingy fluorescent lighting, aisles of processed foods, and a bored-looking teenage clerk scrolling on his phone behind the counter.
As Kirk scans the aisles with the intensity of a hawk hunting prey, I head straight for the refrigerated section.An older couple glances at me sideways.That's probably because I pulled open the door of a refrigerator unit and pushed my head inside.The cool air feels so damn on my face.I grab a bottle of water and also ginger ale.I'm feeling almost human again.
"They've got shortbread," Archie calls out from two aisles over."The proper Scottish kind, too.Not that touristy rubbish."
