Текст книги "Loving The Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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She didn’t know what to do.
Could she just get up and quietly walk away?
Nope. He might consider that rude.
Unless he wasn’t a coyote or a wolf at all but a domestic hybrid. There were often classified ads in the paper that offered half-wolf pups for sale. God, she hoped that was the case. If he were half domestic, he might not mind that she didn’t return his desire to spend some quality time together.
Her sore feet forgotten, Sadie slowly stood up, careful not to make any sudden movements. The animal lifted his head from his chore and looked at her.
“Nice fella,” she said in a calm and soothing voice. “I’m just going to continue my walk home now. You can keep cleaning your feet if you want. I can find my own way from here.”
As she spoke, Sadie took small, guarded steps away from the animal, keeping her back to the trail and her eyes on him.
“That’s a nice boy,” she whispered, slowly turning around and widening her stride. She took at least ten steps before looking over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.
He was gone.
Sadie picked up her pace, not knowing if his disappearance was a good thing or not. A branch broke in the woods off to her left, and Sadie let out a shaky breath. It seemed they were back to the same routine as before, her walking the path and the wolf following in the shadows.
The final mile was the longest she had ever traveled before her cabin finally came into sight. Sadie decided that her career as a woodswoman was being sorely tried. The forest was suddenly crowded with all manner of beasts she wanted nothing to do with.
As if to prove her point that the valley had turned into Grand Central Station, Sadie spotted a strange-looking man, a hundred years old at least, sitting on her porch and scratching an ecstatic Ping under the chin.
“Aye, there you are, girl,” he said, standing up and walking toward her.
He had a thin, delicate cane he used for support—probably to catch himself when his feet got tangled in his long black robe—and a wild mane of white hair and a perfectly trimmed beard. A crisp white collar peeked out above the top button of his robe.
A priest?
Wasn’t this a bit remote for a parish call?
Sadie took the hand he offered and shook it, surprised by the strength of his grip, which was nothing compared with the direct stare of his crystal-clear, bright blue eyes.
“Are you lost?” she asked, taking a quick scan of the cabin grounds, looking for either a vehicle or a traveling companion.
“Nay. I’m right where I want to be, girl. And I apologize for showing up on your doorstep without notice,” he said, not releasing her hand. “I’m Father Daar. And you would be?”
“Ah… Sadie. Mercedes Quill.”
He cocked his head at her, his wrinkled face forming a smile. “I’d be knowing that name, Quill. Is your mother Charlotte, by any chance?”
He still hadn’t released her hand. Sadie didn’t really mind, though. She liked old people. She liked their old-fashioned manners, their straightforward talk, and their spit-in-the-eye attitude toward life.
“Yes. Charlotte’s my mom. How do you know her?”
Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he began to lead her toward her own cabin.
“We have a mutual friend. Callum MacKeage has been spending a wee bit of time with your Charlotte, I believe.”
Yes, she knew that. As a matter of fact, Callum was all her mother had been able to talk about since Sadie had returned to Pine Creek. Charlotte had met Callum at a grange supper last winter, and the two had been dating ever since.
They climbed the stairs together, her hand still in the priest’s possession, and stopped at the door. Ping rubbed up against Sadie’s leg. Sadie pulled free and scooped up the cat, looking back over her shoulder at the forest.
“We should probably move inside, Father,” she said, pushing open the door. “A large dog followed me back to the cabin, and I don’t want him to catch sight of Ping.”
“Ping, is it?” the priest asked, not stepping inside. He scratched Ping under the chin again, then looked out at the woods and grinned. “No worry, lass. Dun… er, I mean Faol has always had a soft spot for cats. The wolf will not hurt your friend.”
“Wolf? You’ve seen him, then?” Sadie asked. Realizing he’d called the animal by name, she added, “Is he yours?”
The priest lifted his bushy eyebrows into his shaggy white hairline. “Wolves know no owners, girl. They’re independent beasts.”
The beast in question stepped out of the woods just then and sat down at the edge of the clearing, facing the cabin. The hackles on Ping’s back rose in alarm, and four sets of claws dug deeply into Sadie’s arms. Sadie all but ran into the cabin and pushed her frightened pet under the bed. She ran back, took Father Daar by the arm, and pulled him inside the cabin and closed the door.
“Ah… I just thought we’d be more comfortable sitting inside, out of the sun,” she said lamely, peeking out through the broken shutter. “Have a seat, Father,” she instructed.
He didn’t sit down but walked over to the corner and stood studying the large four-by-eight-foot model of the valley.
“What would this be?” he asked, running his finger along the tops of the mountains.
“That’s a model of this valley,” Sadie explained, moving to stand beside him. “This is where we are,” she said, pointing to a black dot near the center. “And this is Fraser Mountain, Pitts Mountain, Yawning Ridge, and Sunrise Peak,” she added, moving her finger along the tops of the eastern range. “This side of the valley is nicknamed Thoreau’
s Range, made up of these six mountains,” she said, pointing to the other side of the model. “And in the middle is Prospect River, running the length of the valley.”
“Where’s TarStone Mountain?” he asked, leaning closer and scanning the names taped onto the mountains.
“TarStone would be here,” she told him, placing her hands just off the southeastern edge of the board. “It’s not on the model because it won’t be part of the park.”
Still bent over the makeshift table, he turned his head to her and waved his hand over the valley. “This is all supposed to be a park?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. I’m mapping landmarks and cataloging the various ecosystems, so that I can help put together a proposal for a nature preserve.”
He straightened and turned fully toward her. “A proposal? So it’s not really a park yet?”
Sadie shook her head, absently running her finger along the edge of the model. “No, not yet. I was hired by a group of people who are working up a feasibility plan to present to our state legislature. It’s still in the early stages. Surveys have been done only on paper, not in the field yet. It’s my job to propose a basic layout for the park, with suggestions on where to put the trails and campsites and roads, locate the best place for a visitor center, and highlight prominent landmarks.”
“All by yourself?” the priest asked, looking back at the model. “It’s a mighty large task for one person alone.”
“I’m only the beginning of what will take years to develop,” Sadie explained, walking toward the window.
She looked outside, and, sure enough, the wolf was still there, lying down now, grooming himself again.
“I’d be liking a cup of tea, Mercedes, if you have some,” Father Daar said, heading back over to the door and opening it. “You got anything sweet to go with it?”
Sadie smiled as she moved to put the kettle to boil on the gas range in the kitchen area.
“I have some brownies that my mother made,” she told him, getting two cups down from the shelf and quickly rinsing the dust off them.
“Would you be having something Faol could eat?” he asked.
Sadie looked past Father Daar at the napping wolf. “I don’t think we should feed him, Father. He might hang around if we give him free handouts.”
He turned and smiled at her. “You would not care for a wolf as a pet?” he asked, lifting one brow. “You don’t think a great beast like Faol would be handy to have around on occasion?”
“If he really is a wolf, then he’s wild. And it’s dangerous to endow him with human emotions.”
Father Daar left the door open, returned to the table, and sat down. “You haven’t much magic in your soul, have you, girl?” he said, taking a sip of his tea and setting the mug back on the table. His eyes suddenly lit with speculation. “How about this? What if I tend to those cuts on your feet and promise they’ll be completely healed by tomorrow?
Would that not seem magical to you?”
Sadie was dumbfounded. “But how did you know?” she asked, looking down at her boots.
“You’re limping. And I see the glass on the floor,” he said, using his cane to point at the broken window littering the floor. “And I see tracks of blood,” he added, now pointing at the obvious path leading from the table to the counter and back.
Sadie sat down so she could untie her boots, thankful for the opportunity to straighten her bandages at last. They did hurt, but she had thought it would be rude to undress her feet in front of a guest.
“Thank you for the offer, Father, but I can tend myself. You sit back and enjoy your tea.”
She used the table to conceal the mess of her feet and slid out of her boots. The socks did not come off quite so easily. They were stuck to the bottoms of her feet.
“Here, child. Let me do that,” Father Daar said, slowly getting down on his knees in front of her.
Sadie was horrified. She hid her feet under the chair.
He looked up at her and grinned. “You’re a mite shy when it comes to your perceived flaws, aren’t you, Mercedes? I promise not to laugh if you have six toes.”
“You’re not tending my feet, Father. You’re a guest in my house.”
“The Son of God was not above washing a man’s feet,” he said, grabbing her by the ankle and pulling her foot out to inspect. “Besides, how can I make you believe in the magic if you don’t let me do my work?”
Her face flooded with heat. Lord help her, she would either have to kick the man or let him clean and bandage her feet.
“Where’s the salve?” he asked once he had the bandages off. “Ah, here it is,” he said, seeing the first aid kit on the table. “And now for the magic,” he whispered, opening the salve and ceremoniously dipping the head of his cane into the jar.
Sadie was fascinated as well as entertained. He was a funny old priest, making a production of magically healing her feet.
Well, if he’d wanted to put her at ease for his doctoring, it was working. She didn’t mind so much anymore that he was doing this humble chore for her.
“Mercedes is a beautiful name,” he said as he fingered the salve from his cane and worked it into the cuts. “Is it a family name? From a grandmother or great-aunt, maybe?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Sadie said, tucking her crossed fingers under her thighs.
She wasn’t about to tell this man she was named after a car. Especially not the car she had been conceived in.
Frank Quill had had a warped sense of humor.
“There. How does that feel?” he asked, patting the last bandage into place and straightening up, giving her an expectant look.
“Hot. My feet feel warm as toast.”
And they did. Warm and tingly and wonderfully soothed. Sadie wanted to hug him, they felt so good. She smiled instead.
“Thank you, Father. You really did work magic.”
He narrowed one eye at her suspiciously. “You think I’m jesting about the magic, don’t you?” He lifted his cane and showed her the salve-covered burl of wood at the top. “I wish I could be here to see your face in the morning, when you wake up and find your feet completely healed.”
Sadie patted his shoulder. “Magic is the stuff of fairy tales, Father. I’ll put my faith in modern medicine. And your kindness, too, because I know it helps.”
Still kneeling in front of her, his eyes not quite level with hers, he gave her a fierce glare.
“The magic isn’t here,” he said, touching her forehead with his finger. “It’s here,” he continued, touching her just below her collar bone. “It’s deep inside, in your heart. It’s the belief that anything is possible, against any odds, as long as you’re open to the gift.”
“You’re very sweet.”
“Nay. Never call an old man sweet, child, unless you’re wanting to prick his temper.
Even priests have pride,” he finished, leaning on his cane to stand up. He walked around the table, sat back down, and took up his tea again.
Sadie ignored his scolding and sipped her own tea as she stared at the strange man sitting across the table. Where had he come from? And why was he here?
“Why do you call him Foul?” she asked, waving toward the wolf. “He doesn’t stink.”
“It’s spelledF-A-O-L, and it means ‘wolf.’”
“In what language?”
“Gaelic. I’m a Celt, girl, in case you haven’t noticed.”
The man did have a mean accent. Gaelic, huh? Maybe he would recognize the word the giant had used yesterday when he’d told her to take a care until they met again.
“Father? Do you know what ‘gray-agch’ means?”
He scrunched up his face. “What language would that be? You sound like you have a frog in your throat.”
“I don’t know what language it is.”
“Where did you hear it? That might help me decide.”
Well, now. What to tell him. She wasn’t saying spit about yesterday’s encounter. “It’s just something I heard someone say,” she prevaricated. She shrugged. “It’s not important. I was just curious.”
He finally put his brownie into his mouth, chewing and grinning and then taking a sip of his tea. He stood up suddenly.
“I’ve enjoyed our visit, Mercedes. And now I was thinking ya could give me a ride home in that comfortable-looking truck you’ve got parked out back.”
Sadie stared up at him. What had been the point of his visit? And now he wanted a ride?
“Did you walk all the way out here from town?”
He started for the door, waving his cane in the air. “Nay. I live on the west side of TarStone Mountain.”
“Good Lord. That’s nearly ten miles away, cross-country. And a good fifteen miles by road. You walked?”
He turned to her and thumped his chest with his cane. “Walking is good for the heart, not to mention the soul. But then you already know that, don’t you, Mercedes? You’ve covered every inch of this valley in the ten weeks you’ve been here, most of it on foot, I would guess.”
Now, how had he known that?
Dammit. Who was this strange man?
He suddenly turned and was out the door and already down the steps before she could respond. The wolf—Faol—stood up and watched as Father Daar quickly walked around the cabin and disappeared from sight. Sadie heard the door of her truck open and then slam shut.
She could only stand there, immobilized with confusion, finding herself with many more questions than answers for a visit that had lasted less than an hour.
Chapter Six
Sadie wasn’t waiting two daysto visit her mother, she was going home tonight. She was taking a long weekend, hoping that was enough time for the green-eyed stranger to move on, the wolf to move on, and the priest to forget where she lived.
Talk about weird. The old man had eaten her food and drunk her tea, doctored her feet, urged her to make a pet of a wolf, and scolded her for hiding her scars. It hadn’t been Sunday, but Sadie felt as if she had sat through a four-hour sermon.
So, with all her dirty laundry loaded in the truck and her empty cooler packed, all she had left to do was convince Ping that there was nothing ignoble about riding in a cat carrier.
Just as Sadie finally caught Ping and put her in the carrier in the front seat of the truck, another truck pulled up to the cabin. Sadie quickly closed the cage before the spitting-mad cat could escape and cursed her terrible timing. Heck. It wasworse than Grand Central Station out here.
At least she knew this visitor. Eric Hellman, her boss, jumped out of the truck before it had fully shut off, his hand full of papers and his expression saying he was a man on a mission.
“You’re still alive, I see,” he said by way of greeting as he strode toward her.
Sadie looked down at herself in mock surprise. “I guess I am,” she agreed, giving him a broad smile she hoped would disarm his obviously bad mood.
He stopped in front of her and glared at her answer. “I’ve been calling your cell phone since yesterday morning. Why haven’t you answered it?”
“Because it’s broken?” she offered, still forcing a smile but bracing herself for the outrage she knew was coming.
His face turned bright red. “That’s the third phone in two months! What are you doing, chopping wood with the damn things?”
Sadie wanted to tell him that this last one wasn’t her fault, but she remained mute. It was nobody’s business what had happened in the woods yesterday—not the priest’s and not Eric’s.
“This is the last one,” Eric told her angrily. “They said they would cancel the insurance the next time I brought them a smashed phone.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me so I can get it replaced. But the next one you break is coming out of your paycheck.”
Sadie looked at his hand, shifting her feet uncomfortably. Damn, she knew he needed the ruined phone to get the credit from the insurance.
“I don’t have it. It’s at the bottom of Prospect River, probably halfway to the Penobscot by now.” She steeled herself for the next explosion. “And so is the GPS. I lost my backpack overboard when I dumped at Portage Falls.”
Instead of the explosion, there was silence. Eric’s gaze shot to the kayak strapped to the roof of her truck. His face incredulous, he looked back at her.
“You’re a class four kayaker, Quill. You don’t dump your boat on class two rapids.”
She shrugged. “Hey, anyone can have a bad day.”
“Why wasn’t your pack in the dry hatch?” he asked, looking back at the nineteen-foot-long yellow kayak.
The boat was really an ocean or calm-water kayak, since Sadie usually traveled lakes and dead-water streams, but she did need to get down swift water on occasion, and she wasn’t lugging around two different boats to do the job. This poor kayak carried the scars of rough use, but it was still an excellent vessel, a gift from her dad on her sixteenth birthday.
“The hatch popped,” she said, straight-faced.
The bluster seemed suddenly to go out of Eric. He shook his head. “What were you doing at Portage Falls? Do you think Jedediah’s gold is that far north?”
“I was mapping the river, looking for possible campsites.”
“That kind of stuff can come later,” he said, dismissing her work with a wave of his hand. “You need to find that gold, Quill. It’s going to be the focal point of the park.”
“I’m looking, Eric. Honest to God, every day I’m out there, I’m looking for it.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It was Dad’s obsession to find Plum’s gold, before the fire. You know that. I spent every school vacation and summer and every weekend looking for Jedediah’s claim.”
“And that’s why I suggested the consortium hire you, Quill. You have the best chance of finding it. You know this valley, and you know your father’s research. So why can’t you find it?”
“It might not exist, you know. Even Dad was aware of that possibility. Maine is not a state known for gold.”
“It exists,” Eric said through gritted teeth. “Frank spent the better part of his life looking for that gold.”
“As a hobby, Eric. He found some writings on Jedediah Plum, even unearthed an old journal. But it all could have been the romantic delusions of an eccentric old hermit.
Jedediah claimed he’d found the source of Prospect River’s placer gold, but the man died a pauper nearly eighty years ago.”
Eric’s face suddenly brightened, and he handed her the papers he was holding. “I’ve been doing some research of my own,” he said as Sadie took the papers and unfolded them.
She gasped when she saw what they were. “Where did you find this?” she asked, leafing through the photocopies of an old handwritten journal. “This is the diary Dad found just before… well, just before the fire.”
“It is?” Eric asked, moving to look over her shoulder. “Frank had this diary? I found this in an obscure little logging museum about sixty miles north of here and got permission to photocopy it. It’s the journal of a logging camp cook who lived in Jedediah’s time. It seems that just before the old hermit died, he came back out here one last time. The cook, Jean Lavoie, thought he was after some of the gold. But Jedediah disappeared a few days later. They found his body after the spring thaw.”
“Yes. They also found that he had been shot,” Sadie added. “That part of Plum’s life—
or, rather, his death—is well documented. I can’t believe you found this.” She looked at Eric, smiling sadly. “I tried cajoling Dad into gathering back his research, but after the fire he lost his passion for the hunt.”
Eric moved back to face her, smiling sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Quill. But maybe now you can study this diary and finally come up with a location. I’ve read it at least a hundred times, but I don’t know this valley as well as you do. Maybe you can find where these logging camps were, and that will tell you the vicinity of Plum’s claim.”
“I wish I had the rest of Dad’s research. We’d been so close eight years ago.”
“Everything burned?” he asked, tempering his voice with kindness.
“Yes. The fire started in the study where he kept his research,” Sadie confirmed, turning away and walking to the driver’s side of her truck. She opened the door and put the papers inside.
“You’re going home? It’s only Thursday,” Eric said, seeing that the truck was packed with her belongings.
“I need a few days off. And I want to contact the geological people in Augusta.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been studying my model and began wondering about approaching the mystery of Plum’s gold from a different angle.”
“A geological angle?” he asked, suddenly not looking so disgruntled about her self-approved vacation.
“Yeah. Instead of only trying to follow Jedediah’s path, which is all but nonexistent, why not see where Mother Nature would most likely have set her gold?”
He looked skeptical. “Frank never tried that approach?”
“Sure he did. But all his maps and aerial photos burned with his research.”
Eric got a far-away look in his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck and stared over the hood of her truck. “I never thought of that. And I wasn’t aware Frank had, either.”
Sadie climbed into her truck and looked at Eric, still standing in the open doorway.
“Come by my store Sunday,” Eric said. “I’ll have a new cell phone for you. And you can pick out a new GPS while you’re at it.” He gave her a stern look. “You pick out a waterproof one, and you wear the damn thing tied around your neck. The budget we’ve allocated for this phase of the project is nearly spent. And until we can raise more funds, or you can find that gold, anything else you lose is coming out of your paycheck.”
She gave him a salute. “Gotcha. I’ll cherish my new equipment as I would my own child,” she promised, reaching to close her truck door. Eric stopped her by grabbing the handle.
“Oh, one more thing,” he said. “The Dolan brothers are in town. It seems they’re actively looking for the mine again. You keep an eye out for them, Quill,” he told her. “You also be sure you stay one step in front of them, not behind them. If they find that gold before we do, our plans for the park will be set back by several years. We’re counting on that gold for funding.”
That reminder given, he closed the door, walked back to his own truck, and headed back toward town as quickly as he had arrived.
Sadie was about to start her own truck when the wolf stepped out of the woods right beside her. Only he wasn’t looking at her but in the direction Eric had gone. His hackles were raised on his back.
Goose bumps lifted on Sadie’s arms. What had Father Daar said? Something about Faol protecting her from strangers?
Oh, she needed to get out of here. Now.
But even before Sadie realized what she was doing, she rolled down the window and actually spoke to the wolf. “Thank you, big boy,” she said in a whisper.
Faol turned his head and looked up, his regal green eyes calm and direct, and whined.
Sadie gaped at the animal, then shook her head to clear it. She was acting more foolish than the priest, endowing the wolf with human emotions.
It was definitely time to go home.
But home had its own host of surprises,not the least of which was a very tall, very naked man standing in her mother’s darkened kitchen. He was peering into the fridge, singing rather loudly and off key as he sorted through its contents.
Sadie yelped and nearly dropped the cat carrier on the floor. The man’s song turned to a shout, and he spun around as if ready to fight. His eyes wide and his mouth frozen open in shock, he suddenly grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and held it up in front of his waist. The man turned as red as his hair, from his forehead to his feet, as they stared at each other in silence so thick Sadie actually could hear her heart beating.
“Why did you yell, Callum? Did you drop the milk?” Charlotte Quill asked as she walked into the kitchen.
Sadie’s jaw dropped. Her mother was dressed in the sexiest, most beautiful nightgown she had ever seen.
“Mother?” Sadie croaked. She looked back at the man. This was Callum? In her mother’s kitchen? Naked?
She looked back at her mother, who had stopped dead in her tracks and was blushing to the roots of her blond tousled hair.
“Oh, dear,” Charlotte whispered.
It was Callum who broke the triangle of stares. Still holding the chair like a shield to protect what modesty he had left, he sidled over to Charlotte, then backed through the doorway before disappearing into the darkness of the hall. Her mother walked over and closed the refrigerator door, then walked over to Sadie and took the cat carrier out of her hands and set it on the floor. Charlotte leaned up and kissed her still shocked daughter on the cheek.
“Hi, sweetie. I wasn’t expecting you home tonight.”
“I see that.”
“He’s a fine figure of a man, don’t you think?”
Sadie stared at her mother, then suddenly broke into laughter. She gave her mother a huge hug. “Oh, Mom. Only you would ask your daughter what she thought of your lover’s bod.”
“Well, you did get a good look, I take it,” Charlotte said into her shoulder, hugging her back.
“I guess I did.”
Charlotte pulled away and took Sadie by both hands, absently running her thumb over Sadie’s glove-covered scars. “He’s so embarrassed, sweetie. He’s probably dressing right now and practicing what to say to you when he comes back out here.”
“Maybe I have something to say to him. Like asking what his intentions are toward you.”
“I intend to marry your mother, lass,” Callum said from the entrance to the hall.
He was fully clothed now and no less impressive for being dressed. He had obviously tried to smooth down his hair with his hand but had fallen quite a bit short of taming it.
Charlotte let go of Sadie’s hands and crossed the kitchen to stand at Callum’s side.
“Hush, Callum. Now is not the time.”
“Not the time, woman?” he asked in a growl, looking down at her with a gleam in his eyes. “Your daughter has just caught us in a compromising position. Her question is fair.”
He wrapped one arm around Charlotte in an embrace that said he wanted no more interference from her. He looked at Sadie.
“I’ve asked your mother to marry me, lass, at least once a week for the last two months.
But she’s being stubborn about giving me an answer.”
Sadie lifted her shoulders into a shrug. “Don’t look at me. It took two years of coaxing just to get her to visit me in Boston.”
“Two years!” he said, looking a bit sick in the face as he glared down at Charlotte. “I’m getting old, woman. I can’t wait two more years.”
Charlotte patted his shirt, then ducked out from under his arm to move away. “Well, Callum MacKeage, you’re going to have to wait a while longer,” she said, going to the kennel.
Charlotte’s cat, Kashmir, had silently come into the kitchen and was standing with her nose pressed up against the kennel. As soon as Charlotte freed Ping from her carrier, both cats took off at a run to the nether regions of the house.
“Well,” Sadie said into the awkward silence. She held out her gloved right hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Callum. I’m surprised we haven’t met before now.”
Callum took her hand in a warm, gentle embrace. “I’ve wanted you and your mom to have some time alone together,” he told her. “I know you’ve been living away since college.” He looked at Charlotte and smiled. “She’s glad to have you back.”
“And I’m very glad to be back. I think I’m going to stay this time.”
Callum looked back at Sadie, the rugged planes of his face softened by the warmth of his smile. “Good. Now, I must be going. You two have a good visit together.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Sadie quickly assured him. “I can go down to Nadeau’s and have a beer.”
“Alone?” he asked, looking somewhat scandalized.
Sadie refrained from laughing out loud, but she couldn’t stop a smile from escaping.
“But I won’t be alone once I get there, will I?” she said, holding her mirth in check. She didn’t want to tease her mother’s friend. At least, not until she knew if he had a sense of humor.
Charlotte groaned and came to Callum’s rescue by physically pushing him toward the door. “I’ll talk to you soon, Cal. Thanks for the… um… lovely visit,” she said, standing on tiptoe and pulling his mouth down to meet hers, giving him a quick kiss on the lips and then pushing him again.
Only he wouldn’t be hurried. He kissed her a bit more thoroughly and then straightened and smiled at Sadie. “It was nice to finally meet you, lass. I’ll see you again this Saturday evening.”
That said, he allowed Charlotte to send him out the door. Sadie moved to stand beside her mother, and they both watched Callum walk to the truck parked a short way down the street.
“What’s happening Saturday night?” Sadie asked.
Charlotte turned to her, excitement lighting her already beautiful face. “We’re going to double date.”
“You, Callum, me, and who?”
“His cousin, Morgan.” Charlotte clapped her hands together. “Oh, I don’t know why I didn’t think of the two of you together before now. Morgan is perfect, Sadie. He’s taller than you. Well, actually, he’s a lot taller than you. And he’s handsome and well mannered, and he seems very interesting to talk to, the few times I’ve met him.”
