Page 7 of Scotlander

‘Are you being serious?’

Her eyes snapped to his. His tone suggested she’d just said murdering someone wasn’t that bad a crime. ‘My sister has just gifted us – total strangers – a two-week’ – he lifted his pianist’s fingers into air quotes here – ‘“Totally Immersive Outlander Experience” . . . in Scotland . . . in October . . . led by someone who doesn’t have a website to info-grab or, more importantly, on which to cancel. All of which is four days away. And you’re down with it?’

‘It was Valentina’s favourite show,’ she riposted. Lamely.

He gave her an and look.

‘What?’ She tried her best to sound both sanguine and feisty. ‘Does there need to be some deep meaning beyond her wanting us to enjoy something she loved?’

‘No.’ (Still cranky.) ‘I’m just trying to wrap my head around why my sister wanted the two of us in particular to do this thing.’

She was trying to wrap her head around it too. Going on a superfan experience based on a show she’d never watched with a man she didn’t know – especially one who looked like Gabriel – was just . . . well . . . even for Valentina it was out there. And Willa was no stranger to weird. She had, among other things, waited in the same room as Snoop Dogg while he fought with his wife about firing the nanny and decided to improve his mood by coming up with the name of his next album: Snoopersonic (totally a bestseller and, no, she didn’t get a thank you at the Grammys). She’d watched (and applauded on command) when Mickey Rourke used a chainsaw to make a startlingly accurate ice statue of himself. She’d also borne witness to Jason Momoa playing patty-cake with Liza Minelli to the tune of ‘Send in the Clowns’. So the fact she couldn’t figure out what the heck was behind this was saying something.

Brandi swished up to their table and expertly slid two huge water glasses on to coasters in front of them. She gave Willa a wink and a what’s-with-that-guy look. ‘Your drinks’ll be up in a minute, hon.’

She picked up her glass of water and drank. Gabriel, she was a tiny bit pleased to see, had received a huge glass of crushed ice with just the tiniest bit of water at the bottom.

Oblivious, Gabriel continued, ‘I suppose you two spent endless nights watching the Scottish totty together in your onesies?’

The words landed like scalding hot blades in her heart.

‘Yeah, while we combed each other’s hair and braided it,’ Willa snarked before her internal truth serum gave her brain another injection forcing her to admit, ‘But not Outlander.’

‘Why not?’ he demanded.

‘It wasn’t my jam, okay?’ she snapped back. ‘We watched all sorts of things together, but not that!’

‘Why? Time-travelling nurses and sexy men in kilts too low brow for you?’

‘Ooo!’ she sing-songed like a kid in a playground. ‘Looks like someone’s awfully au fait with it.’

Instead of acknowledging the comment, he did the chin lift thing again. ‘What was it you did for work? Interview celebs?’ His upper lip did a weird twitch as if even saying it gave him hives.

Willa bridled. ‘Are you suggesting that what I do is less respectable than giving a spit and shine to celebs who’ve wriggled out of drunk driving charges?’

He winced.

She tried to hold his steely gaze, but her insides were crumpling. It was never wise to let a man you were about to go on vacation with know that you’ve not only cyberstalked his company, but were also pooping on his profession. Because, obviously, interviewing movie stars was so much better.

Gabriel’s eyes flared. He looked like a sexy demon.

She grabbed her water, taking gulp after gulp in a desperate bid to brain freeze the fallen-angel erotica away.

When she slammed the empty glass down, they stared at one another, chests lifting and falling in tight concentrated breaths until, unexpectedly, Gabriel tipped his head into his hands and began to shake.

Shame flooded out the rage. Judgemental jerk or not, Gabriel’s sister was dead and all of that stiff-lipped, hypercritical fact-finding was probably how he kept his shit together. And, even though she wouldn’t admit it, she silently acknowledged that his question had reopened a barely healed wound. Explaining why she didn’t watch Outlander to this information-seeking heat missile was something she didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for right now and, seeing as they would be together twenty-four-seven by the end of the week, she was hoping their immersive experience in the wilds of Scotland could, at the very least, be pleasant.

Before she could say anything, he dropped his hands. His eyes were covered in a sheen of emotion, but his remarkably lovely lips were, for the very first time, curved into a smile. ‘This is exactly the kind of fight I would’ve had with Concha back in the day.’

‘Who?’

‘Valentina.’

The way his front teeth latched on to his lower lip after saying his sister’s name squeezed her heart tight. Estranged or not, he’d lost someone too. ‘Is that what you used to call her?’

‘Sí,’ he said in another nod to his Latin heritage, and then, ‘You know her middle name was Concepción, right?’

‘Yee-esss.’ Despite the vice-grip on her chest, her voice actively conveyed a prickly What part of ‘we were best friends so I know everything there was to know about her’ are you not understanding?