“Fake boyfriends,” Mairi snapped. “Why won’t anyone remember the fake part?”
“Okay.” Sean scooted his chair farther away from Mairi. “Which one are you going to marry?”
“None of them,” Mairi said at the same time as Keir said, “Me.”
Sean’s jaw dropped as he looked between the two of them. “You’re getting married? To each other?”
“No.” Mairi reached for another bun and bit off a chunk, while flashing Keir a defiant glare.
“Yes,” Keir said. “It’s the only way to make this go away.”
“Over my dead body,” Mairi muttered through a mouthful of food.
“I don’t think that’s legal,” Keir said. “You know, you could show a little more gratitude. I’m trying to help you here.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do?” Mairi frowned. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
There was a knock at the door.
“I wonder who that could be?” Keir said with heavy sarcasm as he sauntered over to open it.
It wasn’t a boyfriend—instead, it was a guy, dressed in a black suit and white shirt, who looked vaguely familiar. He held a massive bunch of balloons in one hand and a microphone in the other.
“I’m Danny Lowe, Josh McInnes’ most famous, and best, tribute act,” the guy said. “Someone called Derek hired me to sing Mairi a special song.”
He handed the balloons to Keir, who foolishly took them instead of releasing them into the sky. They didn’t go through the doorway easily. There was at least five minutes of both men struggling to wedge them into the room, where they bobbed up to cover the ceiling, filling the room with hanging string. Between the flowers everywhere and the balloon-covered ceiling, it looked like Valentine’s Day had puked in the Sinclair household.
“Mairi,” Danny said, in a suddenly American accent. “This one’s from Derek.” Then he launched into a pretty good imitation of Josh McInnes’ crooning voice as he sang “Fly Me to the Moon.”
“See what he did there?” Sean said to Mairi. “Balloons and a song about flying. That’s not half bad.”
With a groan, Mairi moved her mug out of the way so she could rest her head on the table. There was a strange few minutes where no one knew quite what to do, other than listen to the tribute singer giving it his all at the front door. When he’d finished, Danny reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper.
“I need to read this to you.” He cleared his throat. “Derek would like the honor of becoming your husband.” He looked over at Mairi. “What’s your answer? I have a different song to sing depending on whether it’s yes or no.”
Mairi groaned again, this time louder, and Keir swung the door shut in the guy’s face. On the other side of the door, Danny started singing “Heartbreak Hotel.”
Keir battled his way through the hanging string, stepping over vases filled with daises, and made it to the table. “I’m calling Gretna and booking us in. This has to stop. You can hardly move in here.”
“No. I’ll deal with this. I just need more sleep first.” Mairi’s eyes were closed.
“He’s a good singer,” Sean said. “Probably the best fake Josh McInnes money can buy.”
Outside the window, a male wailed, “Nooooooo.”
“Guess that’s Derek,” Sean said.
“Kill me now,” Mairi said, her eyes still closed.
Chapter 6
Gladys turned out to be one of the old folk living at the Campbeltown rest home, where Mairi volunteered two days a week, keeping the old folk occupied and stirring up trouble. When asked about it, she’d told Keir that she was the unofficial entertainment director, and Gladys was her assistant. The tiny woman stood outside the double doors of the nondescript nineties thrown-up building, flanked by two old men. As Keir pulled his SUV up in front of the building, he noticed that someone had taped a new sign over the brass plaque that told everyone the building was Robertson Rest Home. It was now the Robertson Singles Club.
Keir looked over at Mairi, who was waving at Gladys. “Singles club?”
“I wanted to call it the Underground Sex Club, but I was outvoted. Apparently, they can bed-hop like a bunch of randy, immoral teenagers, but they can’t tell the world about it. Double standards, if you ask me.”
Keir shook his head. It had been years since he’d spent time in Mairi Land, and he’d forgotten that it took some getting used to. As soon as the car stopped on the gravel road, Mairi was out and rushing to Gladys. The old woman was a good head shorter than Mairi, which was saying a lot, because Mairi barely made it over five feet. The two women embraced each other like long-lost friends, and Keir smiled at the sight. This was his Mairi. The reason he couldn’t walk away. When she wasn’t holding a grudge, or doing something insane, she spread sunshine wherever she went.
“Keir, come and meet Gladys,” Mairi called to him as he rounded the car.
He walked over and held out a hand, and Gladys ignored it. Instead, she kicked him in the shin. His jaw dropped as the woman looked up at him.
“That’s for running out on our girl,” Gladys said. “Been wanting to do that for years.”
Mairi beamed at her. “Thanks.”
“If I were ten years younger, I’d deck you,” the taller of the two old men said.
Keir looked him up and down. He was a matchstick wearing a three-piece beige suit, and this threat was nothing more than wishful thinking.
“It’s lads like you give the rest of us a bad name,” the other man said.
This one was the same height as Mairi, wore his trousers pulled up to under his nipples, and had a two-hair comb-over.
“Do you tell everybody you meet about the night I ran out on you?” Keir asked the still-beaming Mairi.
She nodded enthusiastically. “Every single person.”
Gladys, who wore a purple tweed dress, thick beige stockings and heavy black shoes, reached up and tugged at the curly gray wig on top of her head to straighten it. “The boys want to come too, seeing as it’s my last appointment. Is that okay?”
“The boys?” Keir arched an eyebrow at the men.
“That’s Albert.” Mairi pointed to the tall, stretched one. “And that’s Reggie.”
Keir looked at the boys. “I don’t think we’ll all fit. It’s three hours to Glasgow. That’s a long time for three people to be wedged together in the back seat.”
“Don’t worry,” Reggie said. “We’re used to snuggling up together.” He gave a dirty cackle and shared a look with Albert, while Gladys went red.
“Please tell me they aren’t a threesome,” Keir whispered to Mairi.
“Sex club,” she whispered back. “You thought I was joking. But no. It’s all true.”
“Best time of my life,” Albert said, obviously being the only person over seventy in Scotland with perfect hearing. “No chance of pregnancy, nobody cares about STDs because we’re all dying anyway, and little blue pills to help with your performance anxiety—if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I need to wash my ears out with soap,” Keir said.
“If there isn’t enough space in back,” Mairi said, “one of the boys can ride with my crew.” She pointed down the drive.
Sure enough, three cars, two campervans and a scooter were coming up the drive. They parked haphazardly on the grass, and Mairi’s fake boyfriends poured out of the vehicles. They looked exactly like what they were: a group of sun-starved geeks out on a field trip—with a Wookiee.
Gladys patted her fake hair and looked up at the new arrivals through her lashes. “You never said we were having male company.”
“What the hell am I then?” Albert said. “Chopped liver?”
“They’re my fake boyfriends,” Mairi said. “I told them we were taking you to Glasgow and I’d be gone all day, so they decided to come along.”
“Boyfriends?” Albert elbowed Reggie. “I thought we were being radical sharing Gladys, but there’s only two of us.”
> “Maybe we need another man,” Reggie said. “Donald’s been desperate to get his hands on her. We should let him audition.”
“I am not hearing this,” Keir said. “It is not happening.”
“They aren’t real boyfriends,” Mairi told the old men. “They’re fake. Remember I told you about my job and all my online men? Well, this is them.”
One of Mairi’s guys, the one who’d been dressed as Captain Kirk the day before, came bouncing up to them with a grin on his face. “Why are we at a singles club, Mairi? I thought we were going to Glasgow. You must be assured that I will only be having eyes for you. I do not need any other women. You make my heart complete.”
“I think I’m going to vomit,” Reggie said.
Keir couldn’t agree more.
“Don’t worry, Amir,” Mairi said. “We’ve just stopped off to pick up Gladys and her men.”
“Men?” Amir looked at the three of them, then smiled at the older woman. “I can see why you are needing two men. You are definitely too much woman for only one.”
“Oh.” Gladys blushed, patted her wig and smiled at Amir. “I like him, Mairi. He’s the one you should marry.”
“No!” Keir, Reggie and Albert snapped at the same time.
Mairi shouted at her men, “Who’s ready for a fun day out?”
There was a cheer.
“I’d rather spend the day with you, my beautiful Scottish flower,” Amir said.
“I know,” Mairi said, her grin still in place. Keir wondered if her cheek muscles were beginning to ache yet. “But I thought you might like to experience some of my culture and get to know the place where I live. It would mean a lot to me.” She batted her lashes at the watching men, and they crumbled.
As they fell over themselves to tell her how amazing her idea was, Keir rolled his eyes in disgust.
“You’re beginning to look good, son,” Albert said.
“Tell me about it,” Keir replied.
“Okay,” Mairi shouted. “We’re going to the West End. There’s the Botanic Gardens, Byres Road—with all the cafes and shops...” She trailed off and whispered to Gladys, “What else is there?”
“I don’t like Glasgow. I don’t know,” Gladys said.
“The art gallery!” Reggie shouted. “Kelvingrove. Go see some art. And the Transport Museum, it’s over the road from the art.”
“Good thinking,” Mairi said.
“Don’t worry,” someone called out. “We have Google Maps.”
“I’ve got the Rough Guide.” Another voice added.
“We can do some shopping, for our girl.” A boyfriend shouted from inside a van.
“Now I think I’m going to vomit,” Keir said.
“Failing that,” Reggie shouted, “you can take a boat down the Clyde. First one who makes it back to their own country wins.”
“Reggie!” Mairi and Gladys said in unison.
Keir held out his hand to the guy for a brotherly fist bump.
Reggie stared at it. “What the hell are you doing now?”
Keir folded his arms again and watched Mairi’s fan club climb back into their vehicles.
“Should we tell the wee guy riding a hairdryer on wheels that it will never make it to Glasgow?” Albert said as he watched the man climb onto his scooter.
“I think we should let him discover that by himself,” Keir said.
“Okay, let’s go.” Mairi hooked her arm with Gladys’. “Who’s riding with the boys?”
Everyone looked at Keir. “No. Just no. It’s my car. I’m driving.”
Reggie pursed his lips. “It’ll be a squeeze, but the three of us will be fine in the back. You’re in the middle,” he said to Gladys, who giggled.
“Nothing new there.” She gave him a wink, and Keir gagged.
The men helped Gladys climb into the back of the SUV before they climbed in on either side of her. Albert said something about killing time in the car with some “necking,” which made Gladys giggle again. As soon as he heard those words, Keir adjusted his rearview mirror to make sure he couldn’t see anything that went on in the back seat. That was the kind of trauma a person never recovered from.
“I’ve got special road music for you.” Mairi produced her phone and plugged it into his dash.
A few seconds later, the car was filled with the dulcet tones of Val Doonican singing all about ‘Delaney's Donkey,’ and just like that, Keir was thrown back into easy listening from the fifties. It had not been the high point of popular culture.
“This is payback for walking out that night, isn’t it?” Keir said as he pulled out of the rest home carpark.
“Would I do that?” Mairi smiled innocently.
“In a second.”
In the back of the car, the trio started to sing along with Val. Behind the SUV, a convoy of mismatched vehicles followed them—with a guy on a scooter bringing up the rear. With a shake of his head, Keir put the car in gear and pointed it toward Glasgow.
“Thanks for taking us,” Mairi said, so softly that he wasn’t certain he’d heard her. “It’s easier on Gladys than going by bus.”
“Anytime, Rusty,” Keir said, and was surprised when she didn’t correct him for using the name from their past.
When he glanced over at her, she was pointedly staring out of the window, and for the first time since they’d climbed out of bed this morning, Keir relaxed.
Chapter 7
Mairi settled Gladys in the treatment room on the first floor of the Beatson Cancer Hospital in Glasgow’s West End. Gladys was her usual stoic self as she sat back in her chair while the nurse hooked her up to an IV and attached the bag of chemo.
“Last one,” Gladys said with a smile.
“We need to have a party,” Mairi said. “A no-more-chemo party.”
“With those fancy drinks that have umbrellas in them.”
“And cake,” Reggie said.
“And pies.” Albert nodded.
“I’ll arrange it.” Mairi patted Gladys’ hand. “We’ll do it in a couple of weeks when you feel better.”
Gladys’ skin was paper thin, and you could see every vein running under it. For a second, Mairi’s throat tightened. She’d started volunteering at the old folks’ home because working from home had made her feel lonely, and she’d looked around to see where she could find company. An old folks’ home had seemed like a good place to find a captive audience for her sense of humor, and willing partners in any mischief she could come up with; so she’d walked into the home one day and informed them she was their new entertainment director. No one had kicked her out, and two years later, she was still hanging out at the home. The residents had become like family to her. She wasn’t sure how she would cope if anything happened to Gladys. Not after losing her sister Isobel to a crazy Scotsman who lived in London. She didn’t even have the routine of sending messages to her men all day long to distract her, because some demented hacker was out to get her. Mairi’s life was imploding, and Gladys looking weak was one more reminder that things were out of control.
“I’ll be fine.” Gladys put her hand over Mairi’s and squeezed it gently. “You’ve got a soft heart, lassie. The doctor says the cancer is going away. All that will happen today is what usually happens—I’ll feel tired, nauseated and downright grumpy.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Albert said. “We’ll look after you.”
“I know you will. See, I’m fine here. You’re a good girl, Mairi. You deserve every happiness, but you’re far too hard on yourself.” Gladys cast a glance over to where Keir was talking to the nurse. “One night is such a short amount of time in a lifetime full of nights. Do you really want one bad day to define the rest of your life? I see how you look at each other. Nobody will think badly of you if you give the rascal another chance.”
Mairi looked at Keir and felt that same bubbling in the bottom of her stomach she’d felt the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. She remembered it distinctly. She’d been in Campbeltown, going
door to door along the high street looking for a job. Fed up, tired and seriously lacking in caffeine, she’d heard the roar of a motorbike as it pulled up outside the tattoo parlor. She’d watched in stunned awe as Keir parked the bike and climbed off. Her mouth had watered at the sight of him. Even back then he was muscled and inked. There had been a two-day growth of beard covering his jaw, and his chocolate colored hair was mussed from his helmet.
He hadn’t noticed Mairi as she stood there gawking at him. She wasn’t sure he’d seen anyone. But they saw him. The crowd had parted in front of him, allowing him a clear passage into the tattoo parlor. Mairi had watched him glide through the crowd, distinct from everyone around him. It was as though he was something else entirely. Something different and unique. Something other. Everyone around him seemed to scurry like squirrels, but he moved like a panther. Everything within her was drawn to him, and she knew, deep inside, that she’d found the man she was supposed to find. The one meant just for her.
So, she’d abandoned her job hunt, climbed onto the back of his bike and waited for him to return. It didn’t take long, as she suspected that someone inside the tattoo parlor told him there was a crazy woman sitting on his bike.
He’d prowled out, his coffee colored eyes heating with every step he took toward her. When he came to a stop in front of her, he’d brushed her hair from her face, sending electric pulses through her body, and then he’d given her a slow, wicked smile.
“Where are we going, Rusty?” he’d said.
“Wherever you want to take me,” she’d answered.
He looked over his shoulder and called toward the people who’d crowded in the shop door to watch them, their faces a mixture of awe and amusement. “Got a spare helmet, Stew?”
A few seconds later, one came flying and Keir snatched it out of the air. He’d put it on Mairi’s head and strapped it up slowly, all the while staring into her eyes.
“Budge up,” he’d said, and climbed on in front of her. He’d grabbed her hand and tugged up her against his back. “Hold on tight, Rusty. I’m going to take you for the ride of your life.”
Can't Tie Me Down! Page 5
