“Sometimes, some peace and quiet is nice.” I knew how to enjoy my own company. For the first few years of my career, I’d flat-shared with four other young models. It was like we were all tigers in a zoo and there was only one half-mauled zebra leg for us to share.
“That’s fair,” he said. “It can get lonely, being isolated from civilization. I grew up in the suburbs, but it was nothing like this. It’s perfect for focusing on work, and hiding away under witness protection,” he added with a wink.
I shook my head, trying to fight a smile from breaking out across my lips as I relaxed ever so slightly in the warmth of the car. “That’s me. On the lam.”
“You look the type.”
“So, what’s your line of work,tennis boy?”
“Tennis boy?”
“Isn’t that what they called you at the bar?” I asked.
“I think that was ‘Mr Wimbledon’,” he corrected. “For accuracy.”
“Is that what you’re doing here? Spreading the gospel of tennis rackets and tiny little shorts?”
“It pays the bills,” he said. “And it gives me time to figure out what comes next. The book is my full-time job. I think there’s a lack of understanding behind the mentality of professional athletes, specifically for tennis. I’ve been working on pullingtogether a sort of handbook for coaches to help them understand their players better, and come up with methods to help inspire them instead of using the old tough coaching angle.”
“That’s…pretty cool,” I reluctantly admitted. Maybe I had judged him too quickly.
“Yeah, and a bachelors in Sports Psychology helps too,” he added, taking a left turn.
I had to admit, despite his line of work, he’d made some smart moves. In spite of the fatal flaw, he was charming and nice. And to top it all off, judging by the length of this drive and the degree of incline, I had stood absolutely no chance of actually making it to the cottage on my own in the snow. He’d saved me from going door-to-door in the village, begging them to take it in the dumb English blonde.
“You went to college?” I asked.
“I got a scholarship with tennis. Dad wanted me to go pro, but I didn’t see a long-term future playing the sport. Plus, I think he just wanted free tickets to the tournaments. Instead, I’ve mostly coached. Travelled when I can.” he said. “What about you?”
I didn’t really want to tell him what I did. Especially if he didn’t recognize me. I was in Scotland to get off the grid, which I’d gotten a little too literally from the lack of phone connection. Besides, he was a man. If they did have that spark of recognition, they could almost never place me.
“I…um…I model,” I answered, taking in the various houses in the distance. They were a mix of cottage and lodge styles, all built into the steep hill, the ground and trees covered with a thick blanket of snow. It was beautiful, the perfect Christmas escape.
“That’s cool,” Jonah said. “Do you get to travel often?”
He turned right at the junction, entering a forested area. Just when the thumping of my heart began to reach ‘you’re about tobe killed in a creepy Scottish forest’ levels, I caught sight of a sign for my cottage, MacIomhainn.
“Every so often. It’s not as glamorous as it seems.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “Have you been in any campaigns I would’ve seen?”
How could I tell him that I definitely had, had he ever picked up a single fashion magazine in the last decade, visited Piccadilly Circus or Times Square, or paid any attention to last year’s Dior campaign.
“Maybe, but it’s competitive.”
“They must be crazy not to have you on the front cover of magazines.” He looked over at me, his gaze all too serious, like he wanted me to know he meant it. I almost blushed at the compliment.
Almost.
Jonah didn’t speak again; instead he swung the car onto a large drive. “Anyway, here we are.”
I looked between him and the two houses ahead of us, only a small path separating them. The one on the left I recognized from the photo I’d seen when I’d booked it: a small, cute cottage with ivy climbing the stone walls, antique windows, snow-covered flower bushes in hibernation for the winter.
“Surprised you made it alive?” He grinned cheekily at me.
“A little.” Suddenly, I found myself a little reluctant to leave. I told myself it was the outside cold, the warm air of the car a comfort after wandering around in a snowstorm.
“Youstillthink so little of me?”
