by Xio Axelrod
“Oh, I was just doing some sightseeing.”
“All on yer own, dear?” Ginny tsk-ed and took Lovie by the arm. Despite her age, her grip was firm. “We canna have that, now, can we? Ye’ll walk along with us.” Duff shrugged at Lovie’s arched eyebrow and fell in step behind them.
They stopped at a booth filled with local watercolors. One by one, Ginny explained each piece in soft, melodic tones.
“And this here is Cawdor Castle.” She ran a crooked finger over the delicate brush strokes. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, I was there this morning.”
“Though, ye ought to go to Golspie and see Dunrobin Castle.” Ginny pointed to another rendering. “It’s my favorite. And C.J. can take ye! Couldn’t you dear?” She beamed at him, obviously doting.
“Well, gran, I’m sure that Lovie has other-”
“O’course ye can.” She smiled, patting his cheek once more. Lovie was certain she’d seen him blush that time. Grandma’s boy. It was curious for a guy in a leather biker jacket who carried himself as if he were apart from the world, but it somehow made sense. She liked his grandmother.
“For now, we should have supper.” Ginny took Lovie’s hand. “Will ye join us fer tea, dear? My home’s no so far, o’er in Westhill.”
“Um-”
“O’course you will. Ye need a good, home-cooked meal to warm ye.”
Apparently, Ginny wasn’t accustomed to hearing the word no.
****
Duff’s stomach ached from too much food and more laughter than he’d had in ages. In addition to whipping up a spread that could’ve fed an army, his gran had also supplied the mealtime entertainment, providing embarrassing tales of his youth. Lovie had eaten it all up with a glow in her cheeks.
There was something enchanting about her. The way she moved, the way she spoke, it demanded his attention. He found it hard to take his eyes off of her, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Gran’s knowing smiles had him squirming.
Lovie Grant. The girl with the guarded, beautiful brown eyes and the careful smile. She was inquisitive. Insightful. And destined to be a little lonely on this trip, what with her friend tied up in whatever Hamish was up to.
She had asked him, flat out, was there something she should know about Hamish and Duff had lied right to her face. What else was he supposed to do, tell her the truth? He supposed he really should, but then it was none of his business. And he had promised Hamish he wouldn’t interfere. Just a bit of holiday companionship, he’d said. No romance. Right.
What if he wanted a bit of romance? Lovie was smart, funny and bloody gorgeous. There he was, sharing a meal and a laugh, leaving Hamish to do God knows what with her best friend. What did that make him? A MacDuff.
Gran pinched his cheek, dropping him back into the middle of the conversation.
“An’ this wee one was covered in flooeer-”
“In what?” Lovie glanced at him for help.
“Flour,” he said and she smiled, warm and bright.
“Thas what I said een it, a bhobain?”
Duff chuckled. “Aye, gran, but sometimes I havta translate fer yer old Scots tongue.” He ducked the hand that swatted at his ear. “It’s true!”
“Och, you.” Gran laughed. The sound of it warmed him. Lovie laughed too, only hers had an entirely different effect. How could a laugh be so damn sexy?
He’d agreed to take his gran shopping at the festival, thinking he’d spend the rest of the evening at the pub watching footie. This was so much better. He’d deal with the guilt later.
Lovie stood and reached for a platter. “Can I help clear the table, Ginny?”
“Heavens, no! Yer a guest in ma house.” Gran deftly stacked the dirty plates and nodded to him. “Me grandson can help me, and then he can show you some o’ his pictures.”
Duff stiffened.
The photos he carried with him were personal. There was more than a measure of him in each exposure. The rest, he sold or shot for work, but his private collection…those he only showed to a few people.
“Gran, I doubt she’d be interested in those.”
“Nonsense.” Gran protested with a tsk. “He takes lovely photos, dear.”
“Oh, I’d love to see some.” Jesus. With a smile like that, how could he say no?
“Yeah alright, then. I won’t be a moment.” Why did the thought of sharing a few photos with her make him so damned nervous?
“I’ll be leaving this fine evenin’ to you two young people.” And now he was even more nervous. Thanks, Gran.
Gran shuffled toward the kitchen but turned to call out over her shoulder. “I expect ye to come ‘round again afore ye head back home, Lovie dear.”
“Of course.” Lovie smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”
Pleased as punch, Gran disappeared into the kitchen. Duff followed behind and soon they had the table cleared. Despite Gran’s protests, Lovie helped.
****
Lovie couldn’t believe the quality of his photography. Duff had been modest when he told her he shot landscapes and portraits. There was such depth and emotion in every photo. He obviously loved his work, and it showed.
Composition, perspective, and light. That’s about all she remembered from her one photography class, but Duff seemed to have mastered them all. He pulled out one transcendent landscape after another. The Grand Canyon, Victoria Falls, a bamboo forest in some exotic locale. The boy got around.
His portraiture was just as breathtaking. Lovie traced the lines in the face of one particular man, his skin a deep mahogany and his eyes bright and black. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but easy to see that he’d had a hard life. His hands were gnarled and twisted like an old oak tree, the knuckles painfully swollen. They seemed to tell his story.
“I took that in Sri Lanka.” Duff spoke over her shoulder as she reverently replaced the photo back into his portfolio. “His name is Anoop. Was...Anoop.” He looked away, haunted by some old tragedy.
“What happened?”
“Floods.” Duff flipped through some other prints, handing one to her. A small boy, dressed in rags, sat atop a gilded elephant. They were walking on the beach, and the sea stretched out behind them to infinity. The perspective was striking.
“Did you always want to be a photographer?”
Duff rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles in his arm flexed, and Lovie was momentarily distracted. “When I was naught but five or six, me ma bought me my first camera. It was love at first click.”
He sifted through a stack of photos, handing her one of a fruit stand in some tropical place. She could almost smell the bananas, mangoes, and papayas.
“I spent all of me allowance on film and development. When I was fifteen, I got a job after school at the local photo shop. Learned to develop the film. How to get the most out o’ the negatives.”
Lovie was beginning to see him in a new light. He was every bit the bad boy she imagined, quick tempered and moody, with an acerbic wit. Behind all that hid the soul of an artist. And he clearly adored his grandmother.
“Your eye is incredible, Duff.” He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “Really.”
“Ta.”
Their eyes locked, the air between them charging like a defibrillator. A slow smile spread across his mouth, and her stomach did a little flip. “Give me your phone.”
Lovie blinked. “Huh?”
“Yer phone.” Duff held out his hand. Lovie fished it out of her pocket and handed it over.
He programmed a number into her list of contacts. His number. Then he dialed himself to capture hers.
“If you, uh, find yerself without an escort again...”
Call me. He didn’t say it, but Lovie heard it loud and clear. She smiled, turning away so that he couldn’t see the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Thanks, I will.”
“C’mon.” He bumped her shoulder. Other body parts grew jealous. “It’s gettin’ late. I’ll take ye
back.”
One Fine Day
It had been another sleepless night in Inverness. Lovie was really sick of being tired. She stared at the ceiling above her bed, mapping the small cracks and bumps in the plaster. Eventually, she gave up and went to grab some coffee, returning to the room with a small pot. No pastries, this time. She had to get Jo up and out for breakfast early. They had a long day planned.
A familiar bass line broke the silence as Jo’s cell phone declared “Baby’s Got Back.” A hand snaked out from her general location and grabbed it, pulling it under the covers. There was a muffled ‘hello’ and then she sat straight up, as if she were on puppet strings.
“Hamish! Hey! No. I was just-” Jo eyed Lovie’s mug. “Having coffee with Lovie.” Lovie took the hint and poured her a cup. Jo accepted and mouthed a thank you.
“Today? Wow, sure. That would be fun.” The bright smile that lit her face dimmed. “Oh, well...hang on.” Uh oh. Puppy dog eyes.
“What is it?” She already knew.
Jo covered the phone. “Would I be a horrible friend if I hung out with Hamish again today?”
“We were supposed to go up to Culloden today. You know. The place that you went on and on about?”
“I know, and I’m sorry but...” She grinned, pointing at the phone.
At this point, they may as well have taken separate vacations. Whatever. Who was she to stand in the way of storybook romance? “Okay, fine, I can walk around town.” Or maybe call Duff.
“You’ll have a much better time without me. I’d only drag you down.”
“I said it’s fine, Jo. Go grind your corn, or whatever.”
“Eww! It’s not like that.” Jo giggled. “Not yet, anyway. I’m not that kind of girl.”
She fluttered her eyelashes.
“Just be careful, okay? Give me his number just in case. And keep your phone on.”
“Yes, mommy.” She winked, uncovering the phone. “Hamish? What time do you want to go?”
Jo jumped up and headed for the shower.
Lovie pulled out her own phone and stared.
Should she or shouldn’t she? He said to do it. She pulled up the last calls and his name popped up first. Her finger hovered over the button, but she couldn’t summon the courage to call.
“I’ll text,” she said to no one. “That way, if he wants to, he can pretend he never got it.”
Hey, I’m on my own again today.
Ditched again?
Yep.
Me too. Got roofers coming this morning, but I’ll pick you up after lunch.
Sounds good.
Wow, okay. Duff was going to pick her up. Lovie chose not to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach. There would be no butterflies, it wasn’t a date. She was just hanging out with a new friend. A mysterious new friend. A mysterious, uber hot professional photographer friend with killer blue eyes and a body she wanted to climb like a vine.
But still, just a friend that offered to show her around.
At the insistence of his grandmother.
But he had been a little flirty.
Maybe he just felt sorry for her.
Then again, he did give her his number. He didn’t have to do that, right?
He’s just a good wing man.
She flopped back onto the bed.
Crap.
****
When Duff arrived at the hotel, Lovie was strangely silent. She met him at the entrance with a quiet ‘hello’, barely meeting his eyes. He ran through the events of the night before, looking for what could have caused her mood. “Everything awright?”
She frowned. “Huh? Yeah.”
“Do I need to apologize for me gran?”
“What? No!” Lovie smiled. “She was sweet.”
“I hope she didn’t offend ye.” He opened the car door and waited until she was settled to close it. When he sat down behind the wheel, she turned to him.
“Ginny made me miss my grams. She died when I was nine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Lovie shrugged but sadness ghosted over her face. “Thanks. And no worries, your gran is awesome.”
“Aye. That she is.” He started the car and eased it slowly out into the road. “She’s no got a mean bone in her body. Won’t put up with nonsense, either. Sees everyone as equal. Raised me ma that way, and me ma raised me, so...”
“So, she’s your mother’s mom?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to get into his family history. Well, me dad’s in prison, me ma died of a broken heart and I’m a pariah in my hometown. Not exactly the best impression to make.
An awkward silence passed as they headed toward the motorway.
“So, ah, let’s go shoot some photos. Or we could go to Dunrobin, if that’s what you’d prefer.”
“No, I’m good with shooting.” She paused. “Unless you’d rather go to the castle.”
“Well, I told gran I’d take ye.” Lovie gave him an odd look and began buttoning her coat with swift, angry movements.
“You can just drop me off in town. I’m not a charity case.” She crossed her arms in a huff. The hell?
“Charity? What are ye talkin’ about?” Duff hit the brake, stopping them in the middle of the road.
“You’re going to cause a traffic jam!”
“Do ye see any other cars?” Duff couldn’t figure this woman out. One moment she was normal, and the next...she was just so aggravating. “What’s all this about charity?”
She ducked her eyes, but not before he caught the embarrassment in them.
“I-I was just saying that you don’t have to feel obligated.”
Ah ha. Duff resumed the drive. What on earth did she have to feel insecure about? She practically had him panting at her feet. “Gran would be the first to tell ye that gettin’ me to do somethin’ I don’ wanna do is akin to bathing a wild cat.”
Lovie rewarded him with a soft giggle which hit him straight between the legs. She tucked her hair behind her ear, something he longed to do. It looked as soft as a patch of heather.
“Where were you planning to take pictures?”
“I was headed up to Fort George. Ye can get some great views of the sunset from there.”
“Sunset? It’s only one o’clock.”
“Aye, but the sun sets at three-thirty today.”
Duff briefly glanced over to see her checking her phone. “Waitin’ for a call?”
He’d have been surprised if she didn’t have a boyfriend back in the States. Though, if she had, she would be likely spending Christmas with him.
“I was just checking to see if Jo had been in touch.”
Ah, right. “You known her long?”
“Yeah, we met in high school and went through college together. She’s older than me, by a year, but she’s like a little sister. Always needs looking after.”
He could relate. “Bit of a dreamer?”
Lovie laughed softly. “A bit. I feel kinda responsible for her.”
Duff knew all about dreamers. His father had been one, always with his grand plans and lofty ideas. As a kid, he’d wanted to dream big too. Be just like him, his hero. Up until about ten years ago when his happy family imploded, and any remnants of his childhood were blown to smithereens.
“Dreams are dangerous things,” he said. “Chasin’ after them can cost ye and those around ye. Cost ye dear.”
“Wow.” He saw her turn to him out of the corner of his eye. “That was...deep.”
“Aye, well we Scots are deep thinkers, ye ken.” He added a comic level of gravitas to his voice and was rewarded by her throaty laugh.
Christ, that sound.
She settled back into her seat. “Duly noted.”
Lovie ran a hand through her hair, an auburn cloud of windswept curls. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her struggle to tame it with some kind of elastic band.
A real shame.
Duff didn’t want it tamed. He liked it wild. Free. Her hair had a personality unto itself
. It suited her.
They passed the twenty minute drive in comfortable silence while Duff stole glimpses of her. He couldn’t help it. Lovie was incredibly beautiful. Stunningly so, and yet somehow completely unaware of the effect she had on him.
It made her even more appealing.
He pulled up to the fort and parked, grabbing his camera bag from the back. “Shall we?”
Crumbling Walls
Okay, Scotland was officially fucking gorgeous. Lovie couldn’t quite believe it was real. The ground was covered in a vibrant green carpet, frosted with snow in patches.
The fort sat at the mouth of Moray Firth. The brochure explained that the site had been constructed after the last Jacobite uprising, when the Highland clans fought their final battles against the English. It had been used as a garrison ever since, overseeing sea access to Inverness eleven miles away.
Jo would have loved this place. Maybe Hamish had taken her there, who knew? She hadn’t heard a peep from her all day.
Lovie snapped as many photos as she could, kicking herself for not bringing her big camera. Her little point-and-shoot had decent quality, but she suffered from serious lens envy when Duff unpacked his Canon 5D.
Despite not living in the area anymore, Duff seemed to know everyone. He had no trouble convincing the desk guard to let them wander the premises unescorted. They walked around, stopping occasionally to shoot, speaking only in the hushed tones that the place demanded.
The more time Lovie spent with Duff, the more intrigued she was. He could go from jerk to gentleman in less than a second. And talk about hard to read.
She’d always considered herself a master at figuring people out. If she had to guess, she’d have said that whatever he was hiding had something to do with his family. He clearly loved Ginny - who wouldn’t? And he mentioned his mother often enough but completely clammed up when she asked about his father.
