Page 45 of Highland Stars
“Och, no. You’re beautiful as always.” If she can call me handsome, I think it’s fair for me to be able to tell her she’s beautiful.
She laughs like she doesn’t believe me and turns her head back to the sky. Her beautiful face is at peace for a moment before she’s hit with a thought and looks back at me. “Oh, I forgot we’d planned to go to lunch after this. I don’t suppose there's a restaurant here that serves food in some sort of aquatic environment.”
“Not that I know of, but now that I’m thinking … I have a box of things I plan to donate in the back of my car. Maybe there’s some stuff in there we can wear.”
I know for a fact there is a soft sweatshirt in there that hasn’t fit me since university. She’ll look so cute.
25
Makenna
We’restandingintheotherwise abandoned parking lot, digging through Malcolm’s donated items. A bowl and a clock sit on top of what, thankfully, looks like a few items of clothing. He sets the bowl and clock aside in his trunk, then pulls out a sweatshirt, a t-shirt and three pairs of pants.
“Looks like forgetting to stop at the charity shop every day for the last month is really gonna come in handy for us.” He hands me the sweatshirt and a pair of pants. “I’ll change back here, if you want to change in the back seat. I’ll leave the boot open, so you’ll have privacy.”
I’m not sure how much privacy I need given that I’m standing here in a nearly see-through shirt, but I’m grateful all the same. A tall girl changing out of sopping-wet clothes in a car isgoing to require some less-than-flattering acrobatics.
“That’s great, thanks.” I hunch over my dry clothes, and head around the trunk. I throw the clothes in the back seat and turn back toward Malcolm to ask for one of the other pairs of pants to dry my hair.
“Malcolm?” I round the corner and find he has already taken off his t-shirt and is squeezing it out. And holy moly he’s giving it a good squeeze. I freeze as he looks up, and it takes a second for me to peel my eyes from his magnificent form. It’s no wonder he could carry me up the stairs. There’s a little softness in his midsection, but I can tell the muscle isn’t far beneath.
I have the strongest urge to touch the fuzz above his navel.
“Did you need something, lass?” He’s clearly very amused by my staring, one side of his mouth tipped up in a smile.
“Ah. Yeah.” What was it? “Oh! I wanted to see if I could get one of the extra pairs of pants.”
He looks shocked for a split second before he regains his composure. “You want another pair of breeks. For a minute there I thought you were talking about”—he gestures to his groin area—“underwear.”
“Oh.” I do the most awkward, actually, the most insane, laugh imaginable. “Nope. Just want to try to wrap some breeks around my hair.”
“That’s good. I can help you with that.”
He hands me the extra pants, and I peel my eyes from him,hoping he thinks I was already flushed from our brisk walk to the car.
“Could I have this sweatshirt?” I ask as I make my way downstairs, his shirt in my hands. Malcolm’s already sitting on the couch. We decided to go back and change before going to lunch. He’s taking me to his favorite spot in Inverness. He claims they have the best sandwiches in Scotland. We’ll see. “I mean, I know you were going to donate it, so that’s like taking from a charity, but maybe I can leave something of mine for you to donate.”
“Of course you can have it. I’d love to think of you back in Georgia wearing it.”
He’d love to think of me wearing it? I didn’t assume I’d cross his mind much at all once I was gone.
“Thank you. It’s so soft and snuggly. Those are always the vibes I go for when it’s cold.”
Malcolm stands and walks toward me. “You’re welcome. Glad I could help with your snuggle needs.”
If I were a computer, my screen would be flashing “Does not compute.” Or is that a calculator? Where does that saying even come from? The way he looked at me when he saidsnuggle needswas … well, I don’t know what it was other than different. Alittle intense, maybe?
Whatever he has going on over there, I’m now thinking how nice it would be to cuddle up with him. Just remembering the warmth of him when we were soaking wet has me dreaming of a cold night snuggling up in his arms.
“Ready?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Yep.”
“I was wondering what led you to plan weddings versus other sorts of events,” Malcolm asks as he takes a left off his street.
“I actually began with calligraphy. I taught myself in high school because I loved the romantic look of the script. I loved the care that was once put into letters and invitations. I just felt like it was a dying art worth saving. And as it turns out, I’m really good at it. I started doing handwritten invitations for weddings before I graduated high school.”
“Look at you, a high school entrepreneur.”
