I shakemy head.
“Beautiful white sand beaches behind him. Crystal blue water. The voice that laughs at the end and says,amazingis Lana.”
I gasp, my eyes going wide. “No.”
Miles laughs. “Oh yeah. It’s the betrayal that gets me, you know? And thewhat if?What would my career look like right now if I had taken that role? If I hadn’t been so blinded by my puppy-dog crush?”
His eyes are far away, and his jaw is clenched.
I caress his cheek softly. He nuzzles his head into my hand, then turns his face to kiss my palm. He grabs my hand and kisses his way up my arm, laying me all the way down on the bed, and climbs on top of me. He doesn’t stop his traveling kisses until he’s between my thighs. We lose ourselves. All thoughts of Lana, Ty, betrayal, and everything else fades away, eclipsed by the light of us.
MILES
We lie next to each other, her leg draped over mine, my hand moving over the soft skin of her back. Voices from the street have gotten louder in the last twenty minutes as more and more people spill out of the bar, but I’m not ready to let the world in yet.
Skye must hear them too because she says, “I hate to say this, but we have to be back at the pub when the whole crew leaves. You came in the van.”
My fingers wander up her spine. “I could text Elsie that I got another ride?”
“Not from me,” she says quickly. “Billy. You could tell her Billy drove you back. He’s always giving strays rides.”
“We have the weekend off. I could even say I went on a little research trip to gain some perspective on the role. My character is a real loner.”
She sits up, her hair cascading over her shoulder and catching the light. “The whole weekend?”
I sit up too. “Could you? I know you have obligations.”
A slow smile spreads across her face.“I could text Dad. Say I have a writing class in Edinburgh, or something. He should be able to do mychores for a couple of days. I haven’t taken a break in a long time. Do you think it’ll look too suspicious, us both being gone on the same weekend?”
It will. But at this point I’m not sure that I care. “Maybe a little, but they can’t prove we were together. I’ll make it worth it.”
I snuggle into her neck, kissing the spot behind her ear that I know drives her wild. We both fall back onto the bed.
She laughs. “Okay. We can’t stay here, though. There are too many people I know all over this town.”
“With the weekend off, the crew might be around more, too,” I say. “So where do we go?”
She gets up and grabs her phone. “Let’s text all our people we need to. We can stay here tonight and figure out where to go in the morning.”
We sleep in,a luxury for us both. When we finally peel our bodies away from each other, we make a plan to go to the Isle of Skye. It seems only fitting. We are in the Land Rover, the morning mist clinging to the green hills, fiery orange trees, and the loch. It makes everything look eerie. I can see why Skye writes mysteries, being surrounded by this murky landscape. “Blackbird” plays softly over the stereo. The only thing that would make this perfect would be a steaming cup of coffee. We are on our way to Inverness now to pick up some, along with food and other essentials. Stopping at the Thistle House would’ve been too suspicious looking, obviously.
Skye is singing along quietly. Her red hair is in a messy bun, with one strand escaping and trailing down her long neck. “Are you named after the island?”
"I was apparently conceived there on my mother’s first trip to Scotland," she says, making a puckered face of disgust, and a booming laugh escapes me, the sound echoing off the roof. Skye joins in. "TMI, right?"
I nod. “Definitely. That’s nice though, that your parents were…um…passionate. How did they meet?”
Skye keeps her eyes focused on the road, a small smile playing at her lips. “In Hollywood. My dad moved there for a while wanting to be an actor. Mom was performing at some little dive bar. He sat in the front and cheered so loud it shook the floorboards, according to my mom. He bought her a drink and the rest is history.”
The corners of her mouth turn down.She seems so lost in thought, I decide not to ask any follow-up questions.
We make a quick stop at the shopping center in Inverness. I want to make it into more of aPretty Womanshopping spree, but Skye insists we just grab some essentials. She doesn’t argue with getting some books for the trip, though. We have to pick them up from the stand in the market because the cool bookstore with the wood-burning stove hasn’t opened yet for the day. I grab the latest Ruth Ware. She chooses the new Jasmine Guillory book. For a mystery writer, she sure reads a lot of romance.
We drop off our bags and head to a coffee shop. I adjust my purple hat more snugly on my head.
“It’s just over here.” She holds my hand and pulls me along.
I intertwine my fingers with hers, which makes her smile.
