Page 13 of Scotlander

She pretended to gaze at her reflection, surreptitiously glancing at Gabe, who was inspecting his own pile of manly outdoor wear. Everything he’d tried on had fitted him immaculately. As if he’d Ashtanga-ed himself into whatever size models wore in order for everything he put on to look custom made. Now that she thought about it, he might be too perfect to actually be mortal. Maybe he was a figment of her imagination.

She turned round, reached out and poked him in the chest.

‘Hey! What was that for?’

‘Just checking you were real. That I wasn’t hallucinating this whole thing.’

‘Nope.’ He gave himself a loud thump on the chest. ‘Genuine flesh and blood.’

‘Hunh.’ She plopped down on the bench beside him. A small yawn escaped before she could pop her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s been a weirdly long day.’ He flopped a companionable arm over her shoulders which was quite the sea change from the Mr Frosty of this morning.

‘Yes, it has,’ she agreed, checking her phone for the time. ‘Five thirty. We’re a couple of powerhouses, you and I.’ She held her hand up for a high five and received one in return. He let his hand rest against hers for more than the traditional nanosecond, as if he wanted to convey something deep and meaningful.

‘Dios, I’m tired,’ he said. Then with a stretch of his arms and legs, he pressed himself up to standing. ‘C’mon. We better get used to making the most of our daylight hours.’

‘Why?’

‘The “true Outlander experience”? I’m no history expert, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t have mobile phones or electricity.’

She gave a sniff. ‘Perfect. I have it on excellent authority I look better by candlelight.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, really? And how do you think you’ll feel about candlelight when it’s pouring rain outside and your stone garret is completely freezing cold?’

She pulled a face. ‘Less desirable, but also grateful because I won’t be able to use my straighteners.’ She gave a little shrug that barely registered from the depths of her coat. ‘I’m hopeful climate change will be on our side with this one.’

He gave her a side-eye.

She leant in to give him a little shoulder bump. ‘Don’t worry. I recycle and I drive a Prius.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Well done, Greta.’

When they got to the register, Gabe elbowed her out of the way and said to the earthy-looking checkout guy, ‘No matter what this woman says, don’t take her card.’

‘Hey!’ She grabbed his wrist. ‘You already helped with work. I’m going to pay my own way.’

‘No, you’re not. This is my treat.’

‘For what? Making you drink shots at Hooters?’

The checkout guy kept his eyes down and began fastidiously zapping barcodes.

‘No. For convincing me I should do this hare-brained thing.’

‘Erm . . . I didn’t really do much convincing.’

‘You did,’ he said.

‘How?’

He gave a heavy sigh, peeled her fingers off his wrist and, with surrender hands raised, asked, ‘Can you please just let me pay?’

‘No, thank you, Richard Gere.’

Gabe shot a get lost for a minute, could you? glance at checkout guy, who instantly developed an urgent need to get some more paper bags from another till. He lowered his voice and said, ‘I missed a lot of Concha’s big moments, okay? Meeting you, her best friend, reminded me of just how much I’ve missed. And I have to live with that. For ever.’

So he had been paying attention when she’d drunkenly run him through just about every picture she’d ever taken of Val and her family.