I bite my lip to keep my thoughts in my head. “It’s a beautiful name.”
Silence falls over our walk. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m acting like an awkward teenager when normally I’m extremely charming.Come on, Miles. Charm her!
I clear my throat. “Thanks for helping me back there. Hell of a meet-cute, huh?”
She looks at me, her piercing blue eyes flashing a shade darker. I want to scoop the words I just spoke out of the air, shove them back in my mouth, and then chew them in the slow, sexy way cowboys gnaw on the end of a piece of straw.
“Not that we…not that you… I mean, you probably have a boyfriend or a partner. I just meant if it were a movie, we would fall madly in love after this. Actually, if it were a movie, I would’ve pulled you down with me in the mud when you helped me up.” My mind runs that reel; her body against mine, her soft curls tickling my neck.
Skye’s cheeks turn pink, matching her rosebud lips, like she can read my mind. I push the thoughts away. I’m not ready to have feelings like that for anyone. Not after what happened in Barbados. Besides, I just met this woman. It’s jet lag.
I sigh. “Let’s start over. I’m Miles. Callum told me I could stay here before production for research.”
Skye stops walking. The gravel crunches behind us, too loud for any more conversation. A dark-green Jeep that’s more rust than car stops. Out steps a large man with an even larger smile and a gray beard.
“Ahhh, youarehere.” The man’s eyes spark with amusement as he takes me in. I’d almost forgotten about the mud. “And it looks like you’re in need of a shower. I’m Callum.”
I take his outstretched hand. “Callum, it is so nice to meet you. Thank you again for letting me come before the other key creatives.”
“Of course. We’re happy to have you.”
A small scoff escapes Skye, which tells me the “we” in his statement isn’t true.
Callum looks past me on the path. “Where is your luggage?”
I let out a long breath. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, come on. I’ll give you the grand tour after you’ve had a chance to clean up.”
“Dad,” Skye interjects. “We need to talk.”
“Aye. But later.”
The frown deepens as she hops on her bike, her strong legs carrying her away.
“Hop in.” Callum motions to the Jeep.
“But your seats…” I motion to the mass of mud on my kilt.
“Trust me, they’ve seen worse.”
As the Jeep drives slowly up the gravel path, the castle comes into better view. It’s much bigger than I expected. In fact, it’s massive. It has to take up an entire city block. The stone is a worn-in rosy tan that pops against the gray sky. A large spire towers above the rest, crumbling with age.
How old is this castle, anyway?
I half expect a dragon to fly overhead and Daenerys to jump out from behind one of the hedges lining the grounds.
Skye’s already off her bike, and I watch as she walks through a dark-wood arched door with a little iron window in it. Callum parks the car. We stroll up the couple of stairs and into the castle.
He leads me up the staircase lined with threadbare red carpet, through cavernous hallways, stones jutting out here and there. I shot a movie once where we spent a lot of time filming in caves, and this castle has a similar smell—wet rock. Not unpleasant, but unexpected. Not exactly what I’d call homey.
It’s hard to imagine living here. How odd would it be to grow up in an honest-to-God castle? Maybe I can ask Skye later.
Callum opens the door to a room near the corner of the castle. It has a fluffy bed with a white comforter. A coat of arms hangs on the wall with what I assume are real swords. The window looks out overmassive green fields, and off in the distance Loch Ness is twinkling in the sun that has broken through the clouds. It’s picture-perfect. This film is going to look amazing.
“Bog’s down the hall. It doesn’t have an actual shower, but it has one of those showerhead sprayers. Very modern. I’ll throw a jumper and some trousers in there for you. Skye can take you shopping a little later. Foyers won’t have much in the way of clothes, but you can head into Inverness.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
