Off Kilter

by Donna Kauffman

  He eyed the hand as if she was shoving a snake at him.

  “Look, I get that we’re not best buddies, but I’m not an ogre who takes pleasure from the misery of others.”

  “Could have fooled me,” he muttered, as he pushed himself up. He climbed from muck to bank, then up to the side of the road where his bike still lay, the motor spinning.

  “No, please,” she said flatly, “I can climb back up on my own.” She hopped the gully again, and found a rocky section that made climbing back to the roadside a bit easier.

  He wasn’t paying any attention to her, but was crouching over his motorbike, which was now silent.

  “Will it run?” she asked, walking toward him, despite the urge to simply turn around and keep on walking toward her original destination.

  “Run, yes. Roll, I’m no’ so certain.”

  She skimmed her gaze over the frame, and noted that one of the wheels did look a bit … warped. “That’s not so good.”

  “No, it’s not. And I have an appointment at”—he glanced at his watch from habit, no doubt, only to swear under his breath again as his shirt cuff slid back to reveal the timepiece was covered in thick gunk, with a few choice pieces of gully debris sticking to it as well—“doesnae matter much now, anyway.” He straightened and moved the bike so it was well off the road.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, though she wasn’t certain why she was still engaging him in any form of conversation. He was clearly unhurt, and just as clearly not remotely caring whether she stayed or left. It was just … she didn’t feel right walking away from the scene of an accident. Especially one she was at least partly responsible for.

  “Walk into town. Borrow Graham’s truck, pick up my bike, take it to Magnus’s shop.” He finally glanced at her. “What on earth were you about, wandering out here in the wee hours of dawn? The sun’s no’ even fully up yet.”

  “Heading to the shore,” she answered, not that it was any business of his. But he didn’t look so smug with his ridiculously perfect dimple filled with gully mud. And that made him slightly less annoying to her. “I’d give you a lift, but as you can see”— she gestured to her feet—“I’m sorry though, for making you crash. I didn’t see the headlight until it was too late.”

  There was a beat, then he said, “Not to worry. Worse things could have resulted.” He scraped the mud from his face and combed his gunked-up hair back from his face.

  It was all kinds of wrong that looking like something from the La Brea Tar Pits made him seem much more rugged. She could imagine how smug he must have been when he realized she’d chosen him, and only him, as their best chance at getting into the Highlander calendar. It probably annoyed the hell out of the village charmer to look anything other than his GQ best.

  “You might want to consider a shower first, before borrowing a truck,” she said. “Just a thought.”

  He glanced down at himself, then surprised her with a smile and a short laugh. “I’d like to think Graham is a good enough friend no’ to mind a bit of mud.” He plucked a twig and a clump of muck from the pocket of his khakis. “But perhaps ye have a point.”

  She refused to become one of the charmed. It would be a lot easier if he’d stop smiling. A gunk-filled dimple only diluted his charm so much.

  He turned and looked back up the track from the direction he’d come, then the other way, which led into the village proper.

  She had no idea where he lived, but she assumed they were closer to town than to his home. She couldn’t have said what prodded her to offer an alternative. Surely it was her guilty conscience talking. “Kira’s place is probably closest,” she said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you cleaned up there. She’ll be up and in her studio by now.”

  To her further surprise, she could have sworn he blanched. Just a little. Right before all the good humor left his face. “Uh, thanks. But, ah, no. I’m—I’ll be fine. Good.”

  She folded her arms. “Really.” He was stuttering—which made the otherwise cocksure man she’d had the displeasure of being saddled with earlier in the week seem almost … endearing.

  “Yes,” he said, gathering himself rather quickly. “Quite. You—carry on with what you were doing, then. And I’ll—”

  “Walk into town. Looking like a creature from the black lagoon. Perhaps I’ll join you on the hike in. Maybe snap a few pictures as we go along. Could be amusing. Who knows, maybe you’ll actually like those.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Well, from what I hear, you couldn’t be bothered to even glance at the ones I took of you last week. Pretty sure of your appeal”—she shrugged and gave him a frank onceover—“with reason, I suppose. I guess we should all own our assets.”

  He took a step closer, real irritation on his face. “You’re so smug, thinking you have me pegged. But you have no idea, in the least, who I am, or what motivates me to do anything I choose to do.”

  “Me, smug?”

  “Aye. But then, I’ve read your resume and I guess, likewise, you have reason to be. Owning your assets and all that. I’ll just say that while your career impresses me—mightily, in fact—I dinnae know how it is you’ve done all ye’ve done.”

  “Because I’m a woman, you mean?”

  He looked honestly confused. “What does gender have to do with pointing a camera at something? No, I was speaking of yer attitude about the rest of us poor blokes.”

  It was her turn to be confused. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Your people skills leave a lot to be desired, lass. Although, I suppose, anyone who has seen all of the things that you have, wouldn’t be expected to have much softness left.”

  He hadn’t said the last part unkindly, which was why it undid her. Or that’s what she told herself, anyway. It was easier to think of him as an opinionated, uninformed, too-good-looking-for-his-own-good jackass. “Why on earth would you take the time to look at my career highlights?”

  “I just insult you and you’re only concerned that I peeked at yer curriculum vitae?”

  “You didn’t insult me. You just spoke the truth. You’re probably right—too right—about my people skills. But given your lack of enthusiasm regarding my involvement with this project in general, and you in particular, it just struck me as odd that you’d spend any amount of time digging up information on me.”

  “No’ so difficult. You’re quite Google-able. I looked you up because we’re trustin’ yer judgment on something that might seem trivial to you, but could bring us a great deal of help.”

  “Kira explained,” she said. “And I get that the … ah … added exposure could potentially be a boon for your basket sales. And probably boost tourism. I just hope you’re not banking all your marketing on a Hunks of the Highlands calendar.”

  Rather than be insulted, he laughed. “No, it sounded ridiculous to me, too, at first. But when it comes to the welfare of this island and every last person on it, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. It’s the only reason I agreed to gettin’ Kira to ask you to man the camera, or stand in front of it myself. I needed to know who I was trustin’ to make what might turn out to be an important decision. But did I need to see the photos of my smiling, idiotic face? No. I didn’t look at any of them, no offense meant to you. I looked at your history, and I trusted you with the choice.”

  Strangely enough, she believed him even though it didn’t jibe with who she thought he was. “Me and Katie McAuley, you mean.

  “What?” she asked, when he looked surprised. “I know you asked her to double check my choices. Do you honestly think anything stays secret around here? I haven’t met a single soul other than you since setting out on this hike, but I’m fairly certain someone could probably tell you the color underwear I have on right now.”

  Bad example, she thought immediately, when his gaze drifted over her. There’d been nothing remotely lascivious about it. More a casual cataloging. Like he’d done with her career highlights—which annoyed her, but
for all the wrong reasons. Surely she didn’t care what he thought of her? As a photographer, or as a woman.

  “We’re a tightly knit group. We rely on each other,” he said as his gaze returned to hers. “It’s like that on a wee island. Has to be.”

  “I understand that, but correct me if I’m wrong—in the grand scheme of things, you’ve only known Katie McAuley slightly longer than you’ve known me.”

  “Aye, ‘tis true. But … it’s different with Katie. Spend any time with her, and it’s like ye’ve known her yer whole life. Everyone here feels it.”

  “Good people skills, then,” she said dryly, and earned a smile.

  “Something like that. We’re all close, but we’re not close-minded. We have our differences here, but we’re accepting of new people, new ideas. We’d never have survived otherwise. We respect and hold each other in high esteem, or we certainly try to.”

  “Yes, I believe I witnessed a whole raft of that esteem the other day, while you were undressing for me.”

  She’d meant the comment to be amusing, but perhaps her delivery was even rustier than she’d thought. He folded his arms and rocked back a little on his heels. How it was that all the mud and muck made him look sexy, she had no idea. She had a lot of personal experience with mud and muck and there was usually nothing remotely attractive about it.

  “What was it that put you off me?” he asked, sounding surprisingly sincere, like it really mattered.

  “Is it so hard for you to take, having one less woman giggling and blushing when she’s around you?”

  He grinned. “I’m a likable guy. What can I say? Except to you.”

  She smiled briefly. “You’ll get over the loss, I’m sure. Since you seem to have pretty much the same impression of me, I can’t imagine why my thoughts on you matter one way or the other.”

  He lifted a shoulder, continued to regard her with that dimple-flashing, half smile of his. “I don’t know that they do. Although I admit I’d be interested to know if you’ve got a giggle in you.” He just laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Mostly, I’m … curious. It’s no’ an ego thing. You’re right, it’s healthy enough, with or without your admiration of my manly bits.”

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed. More like a snort. But still. Dammit. “Yes, well, given I chose your manly bits exclusively as potential daydream fodder for women everywhere from ages sixteen to sixty, I’m fairly certain your ego is fully intact, if not additionally inflated. If you do make the calendar, your throngs of admirers will merely grow to an international level. World domination is surely only a centerfold away after that.”

  She paused because he was frowning. “What?” she asked. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not going to eat that up. You’re a red-blooded man who is quite well aware of his charms.”

  “Aye. Believe it or not, I’d rather my charms, as you call them, weren’t put on display for the masses. The idea of hanging on walls in places ye dinnae even know of, being ogled by God only knows who … that’s a wee bit odd to contemplate, now isn’t it?”

  “Are you honestly telling me this was some kind of sacrifice for you?”

  “Did I, at any point, look like I was having a good time? Was I encouraging you in any way, other than to mercifully get it over with as soon as possible?”

  “You loved playing the crowd and—”

  “I was trying to get them to leave!”

  She thought about that for a moment, and realized he had a point.

  He walked closer to her, until she could see his green eyes quite clearly through all the muck still splattering his face and neck. It must have been the contrast with all that mud that made them seem so … mesmerizing.

  “You don’t know what to think about me, do you? Because you already had your mind made up on what kind of man I was before we even got started. I’d have expected you, of all people, with your background, to be more open-minded, to get the facts first. At the very least, consider that simply because I’m male and might enjoy charming a smile or two from folks I’ve spent my entire life around, doesn’t necessarily mean my ego and identity are linked directly and only to what’s under my kilt.”

  “I was just—”

  “Being condescending, patronizing, and a wee bit narrow-minded. After seeing your work—I did look at a fair share of it—that mentality doesn’t seem to fit. But what do I know? Maybe you’re great behind the camera, but face to face with people …” He shrugged, then turned around and started toward his bent-up motorbike, apparently done with the conversation. And with her.

  “You’re right.”

  He stopped, and turned back to look at her.

  Why … why was she prolonging the conversation? She held his gaze with equanimity, then finally sighed, and felt the starch go out of her just a little. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? Well, besides the obvious. “I have seen a lot. More, maybe, than anyone should. And … I’ve developed some very strong ideas and opinions. About a lot of things. And … people, as well. I’m not shy about expressing them.”

  He held her gaze with seeming ease, but rather than looking disgusted with her—which would have been understandable, because she was a little disgusted with herself at the moment—he appeared … amused. “So,” he said, a flicker of that devilish twinkle sparking into his eyes. “How is that working out for ye?”

  He was relentless with the charm. And it was working. A smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “Well, at the moment, I’m here shooting photos for a Highlander hotties calendar. Not to be patronizing or condescending, but that’s not my usual caliber of assignment.”

  He nodded. “I thought you were here on vacation.”

  “I did the shoot as a favor for a friend, true,” she said, purposely not responding directly to his comment. “But … I didn’t need to be pompous about it. Or take my frustration out on you.”

  “You were frustrated because you deemed shooting those photos to be that far beneath you? Even as a simple favor? Were you afraid to have word leak out? Your name attached to them? Now who has the unhealthy ego?”

  “No, of course not. I stand by all my work. Though it’s not something I’d have ever imagined myself doing, I was happy to help Kira. I’m frustrated because I can’t—” She managed to cut herself off just in time. She waved a hand, striving for the insouciance she used to have, but had lost over the past year. Actually, longer ago than that, if she were honest. She felt the sting of Roan’s casual observations once again. The sting of truth.

  “Because you can’t relax and enjoy time off?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I imagine there are always stories that need telling somewhere. That kind of urgency must be hard to turn away from.”

  His insight caught her off guard. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a man who bothered to notice much beyond his own charming influence on others. Clearly her powers of observation had completely failed her where he was concerned. She was seeing what she wanted to see—which was the worst possible thing. But then … that was what she did. She just hadn’t realized it was who she’d become.

  Instead of blowing him off with some smartass answer, she decided his sincerity at least warranted an honest response. It bothered her, more than a little, that she had to work at it. And not because it was him. She hadn’t been able to talk to Kira, either.

  “Let’s just say that I haven’t taken a vacation in a while. Perhaps I should have been better about scheduling them into my assignments.” That was about as much as she was willing to share. His savoir faire with the opposite sex might make him seem somewhat superficial on the surface, but she was quite aware there were greater depths to him than she’d anticipated. She didn’t want to encourage any more of his curiosity. To that end, she lifted the camera from where it hung around her neck, and continued before he could say anything else. “So, if you’re sure you don’t need or want my help with the bike, or”—she made a general gesture in the direction of his mud-coated se
lf—“I guess I’ll get back to what I was doing.”

  “Which was?”

  “Taking vacation photos,” she said dryly. “For fun.”

  He flashed a grin and the dimple winked out through the drying muck. “You know anything about that? Fun, I mean.”

  She opened her mouth, fully prepared to shoot back an equally smart-ass answer, but instead just let the whole damn thing go and laughed instead. That’s what he made her feel like doing, and it felt surprisingly good. “I used to have a passing acquaintance with the idea, but possibly it’s been a while.”

  “With the kind of work you do, that’s not surprising,” he said, sincere, but not somber about it.

  She appreciated that, and felt shamed again for her rather shabby treatment of him. “Perhaps my journey today will reintroduce me to the concept.” Not true, but at least the intent was to be friendly. The last thing she would have told him was that she was technically on assignment … and while she was energized at the idea that she might have discovered the first step toward mental redemption, she would hardly call the day she had planned fun. Terrifying, portentous, intimidating, maybe. The day’s agenda was nobody’s business but her own.

  “Maybe,” he replied, but sounded dubious. “Where are you headed?”

  “To the shore.”

  “Ah, the abbey and the tower?”

  “In part.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do them better justice than most.”

  The compliment—sincere by the sound of it—caught her off guard. “I—thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Just because we started off on the wrong foot, doesnae mean we have to stay wrong-footed. Does it?”

  There was no charming smile or mischievous twinkle, just a plain, sincerely asked question. So she lifted a shoulder—casually—which belied the sudden pounding of her heart, and said, “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

  He laughed.

  “What?”

  “You’re a tough one, Tessa Vandergriff.”

  That stung a little, deserved or not. She was all done being under Roan McAuley’s microscope for the day. “Having seen my work, you’d understand that a softie would never make it out there, doing what I do.”