Kaitlyn and the Highlander

by Diana Knightley

  Kaitlyn and the Highlander

  Diana Knightley

  Copyright © 2018 by Diana Knightley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-one

  22. Twenty-two

  23. Twenty-three

  24. Twenty-four

  25. Twenty-five

  26. Twenty-six

  27. Twenty-seven

  28. Twenty-eight

  29. Twenty-nine

  30. Thirty

  31. Thirty-one

  32. Thirty-two

  33. Thirty-three

  34. Thirty-four

  35. Thirty-five

  36. Thirty-six

  37. Thirty-seven

  38. Thirty-eight

  39. Thirty-nine

  40. Forty

  41. Forty-one

  42. Forty-two

  43. Forty-three

  44. Forty-four

  Also by Diana Knightley

  One

  James said, “You know what I miss doing with you?”

  I giggled. “I can guess but I want to hear you say it.” We were sitting on two lawn chairs, red cups on the ground beside us, facing the beach, even though it was too dark to see what was out there. But we grew up here, we knew — undulating sand dunes, whispering sea grass, and rolling waves beyond. I could hear them, the distant crash and splash through the darkness.

  “Skinny-dipping.”

  I was mystically transported back to high school days when the smile of James Cook could make my knees buckle. “Now that's a memory, I haven't gone skinny-dipping in about six years.”

  “Want to go now?”

  Tipsy didn't begin to describe how I felt. I had gone past tipsy an hour before and had since entered Drunk as Hell. This was a party fueled by Pirate's Punch after all, and my tolerance was low.

  As we walked together along the boardwalk over the dunes, I kept bumping into James who laughed and stumbled into me. He said, “I think I'm drunk.”

  “Me too.”

  I stood still at the end of the walk and wiggled my toes down deep into the sand. It was the consistency of coarse raw sugar and I had really missed its feel on my feet.

  James joked, “You first.”

  I teased, “You think I'm going to chicken out?” I stripped my shirt off over my head, unclasped my bra and dropped it off my arms.

  James said, “Okay then,” and began working on his pants button, dropping them to the ground. He took off his shirt, but I was already streaking by him. “See you in the water!”

  My feet hit the ocean, warm, lapping. I ran with big leaping steps, splashing all around, and dropped face down into the water. I popped my head up in time to see James, running naked, his dick flopping side to side. I giggled.

  He dove under and came up right in front of me with a whoosh, water dripping down his forehead. “Hi Katie.”

  “Hi.”

  His hand, his big hand, big football-playing hand of bigness, reached out and pulled my ass closer. A small wave lifted and gently dropped us. There was barely a swell. Like bathwater really, another thing I had missed.

  He said, “You've been gone a long time.”

  “I have.” My legs were treading, sliding around his slippery skin and groping hands.

  He kissed me.

  “I missed you, Katie.”

  I kissed him back, because this was entirely too much talking, and if he got nostalgic I might cry. Or heck, I might cry if he said one more word, and I wasn't doing that anymore. I was going to be flirty, wild, having-a-casual-fling-with-her-ex, Katie, who didn't give a shit anymore.

  Lightning arced across the sky.

  “What the—?” James looked up. “Oh shit, we better get out.” The sky north of us was dark, growing darker, and moving our way fast. Lighting sparked from the middle of it, hitting the beach.

  “Crap!” We both raced from the water. He scooped up his clothes, and tossed a towel at me. “Run.” The storm was fast behind us. The sky darkening and the air thickening and the — in the middle of the beach just north of us, a black shape, like a person, or two people, shadowy and dark, in the middle of the storm.

  I froze for a second, then yelled, “Hey!” and waved my arms.

  James grabbed my hand pulling me to the steps. “Just a shadow Katie.”

  My feet hit the steps, and I sprinted, wrapping the towel around me. James spun his towel into a tight rope, running, laughing, and flicking it at my ass as I ran.

  The dozen or so other party guests had sheltered in James's living room, and Hayley was watching for us through the glass door. We slid the door open and rushed in, laughing, flushed, and mostly naked.

  James said, “Where the hell did that storm come from?”

  “You guys — naked running!” Hayley doubled over laughing.

  “James's junk was flopping all over.” Michael mimicked James across the living room floor.

  “Very funny, guys.”

  Hayley and Michael stopped and looked quizzically toward the boardwalk. Two cloaked figures were approaching the house. There was enough ambient light from the clouds and the porch lights, but they were dark like shadows, as if they didn't have light waves emanating from them. Like they were the opposite of light. It was hard to explain, and I was also very drunk.

  So drunk that as the two people made it to the porch, still huddled together, one taller, one shorter, cloaks pulled around them, not dressed, but costumed. I decided, why go to the bathroom to change? Why not just furtively pull my clothes on while hiding behind Hayley? And she wasn't a big woman. She was shorter than me. But for some reason it made sense.

  James didn't leave either. He pulled his pants up with familiar tugs and shifts. It took me back six years — him standing at the end of his parent's bed. They had been gone for the weekend and we had played house here.

  He moved the same. Like a quarterback. Except he was older now. A little softer. He had added some grown up trappings which kind of made him even hotter — like a job and a sensible house. He was a contractor. History that Mom kept me updated about, because she wanted me to know what I was missing: a nice sensible boy from the Island. “James is a contractor, Katie. He builds houses and makes a nice living. You could do worse.”

  This was a not-very-veiled reference to my Braden, who was the love of my life not even three weeks ago. Fucking asshole. And my mom was being kind of a jerk when she said it.

  James ran a hand through his hair like the sexy teen he once was, but then, as the two odd people made it to the sliding door, he did this little neck-jerk thing that reminded me with a unhappy jolt of his father. A man who was middle-aged, balding, paunchy, and a major ass. Also a womanizer in the worst way.

  I looked away and down, noticing that my shirt's tag was hanging just under my chin. How did that even happen, inside out and backwards? I giggled as James slid open the door.

  “Can I help you
?”

  The ocean breeze whipped through sending a chill around the room. The smaller cloaked figure, a woman, stepped behind the larger cloaked man. She huddled there much like I was huddling behind Hayley, which made me giggle more.

  Hayley said, “Shush, girlfriend, are you seeing this guy?” I peeked over her shoulder.

  This guy was big. His face shadowed by the very dark cloak. The outline of his nose was strong, his jaw, chiseled. His clothing — both of their clothing, was full on cos-play. Like at Ren Faire. Like from a Hollywood movie. Like maybe some of this made sense if I was in Los Angeles, but I wasn't. I was in North East Florida, Fernandina Beach on tiny Amelia Island. There wasn't even a costume shop. Plus, this looked authentic, weirdly authentic. Specifically intricately detailed authentic.

  Jeez, I was drunk.

  What was I even talking about?

  Just then he spoke. “Good evenin', sir. I am Magnus Archibald Caelhin Campbell, the Lady Delapointe and I find ourselves in need of fair lodging.”

  Hayley nudged me in my ribs, but she didn't need to get my attention. Gotten, thank you. Because that voice was hot. It rumbled through the room like Chris Hemsworth's Thor voice, deep and accented and awesome, setting my insides all wiggly.

  It sounded Scottish. Round, rolling along, the rumble stepping down from the beginning of the sentence to the end with a leap. I whispered to Hayley, “Jeez Louise, he's hella hawt.”

  “You said it girl.”

  But this is the strangest part, the smell that wafted in around them. It was thick, but not bad, just different — electrified storm mixed with incense. It was enough for me to come out entirely from behind Hayley, because yes, maybe I'd just breathe that in a bit.

  I picked up a red cup that had Katie scrawled around the top in sharpie pen and drank deeply. I wiped my chin on my arm because of spilling.

  James seemed confused, but he was also drunk. He was probably thinking, “Off my porch, out of my house,” but also if he was at all like me, it was hard to think. The stranger was big, dark, breathtaking, and there was something jutting up behind his head, under his cloak, that must have been a weapon. Did he have a freaking sword under there? This was all hard to mentally deal with and all I needed to do was stand and stare. I didn't have to be the person to call the cops. Or give them a ride to the hotel. Or call them an Uber. Or whatever this situation called for.

  James asked, “Where did you just come from?”

  The man seemed to consider, then said, “We hae only just arrived from Scotland, sir.” Those Rs rolled through the word 'arrived' with a resonance that made me need to remind myself to breathe.

  James said, “I see that.” He looked around at us all with a look that meant, are you kidding me with this? Then said, “I don't have room for you. There's a hotel down the street.”

  The man turned, met the eyes of the woman behind him, and turned back. “Tis far? We— we hae traveled verra far this day and we haena horses.”

  “It's about two miles up on Sadler.”

  The man stood, head bowed, considering for a moment. “Pray, would ye be kind enough tae give us haven here, under your protection, on your lands, tae rest until morning?”

  James stifled a laugh. “Uh, yeah, my protection. Sure. Look, if y'all need to sleep you can do that under the house next door. It's empty, a short term rental. The car park has some lawn chairs you can sleep in tonight.” James looked out the door and scanned the sky. “It looks like the storm passed, so it will be dry enough.”

  He disappeared down the hallway and returned with two blankets and two pillows and awkwardly held them out.

  The man continued to stand there, seemingly confused by what had transpired.

  James looked confused too.

  I said, “James, I think you should show them the chairs.”

  The man met my eyes. His were deep as night. His brow dark. He looked away.

  “Yeah, good idea.” James stepped through the sliding door to the porch and gestured with his head. “Follow me. And where about in Scotland did you say you were from?”

  The man followed. “You know of Scotland? We hail from Argyll, Castle Balloch, the south bank of the River Tay.”

  The woman followed silently behind him, head demurely down.

  When they left the porch, we all let out a collective breath of air.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Michael.

  A few minutes later James returned and repeated Michael, “What the hell was — did you see those people? Where'd they come from?” He went to the pitcher, which was empty, but he tried to pour a glass of punch anyway. “Y'all drank it?'

  Hayley laughed. “I think you helped.”

  He swung open the fridge, found some orange juice, pulled a bottle of rum down from his liquor cabinet, unscrewed the cap, and poured himself a Screwdriver. “I notice y'all didn't send someone with me. Did you see the sword?”

  Michael said, “Is that what was under his cloak?”

  “That shit looked real. When he shifted, he opened his cape thing enough for me to see it. Shit, now I've given him a place to sleep a few feet away. What if he's a murderer?”

  I giggled. “Murderers don't usually travel around in Ren Faire costumes. Kind of noticeable.”

  A song I liked came on, and my rattled brain lost track of our conversation. I reached for James's drink, and swigged some. “Hayley, dance?”

  “You know it, girlfriend. I love me some Tay-Tay.” We danced in the middle of the room, by ourselves, creating a full-blown spectacle with our overly sexy gyrating and occasional stumbling. “I love you Hayley,” I said as I accidentally tripped over the coffee table.

  “I love you too, girl. I'm so glad you're home. We're going to have so much fun!”

  The song wound down, so we joined everyone else around the center island in the kitchen. I was flushed and hot and wind-blown and rather proud of myself for how attractive I felt, when Quentin asked, “So Katie, show us one of your life hacks.”

  Hayley interceded, “We aren't talking about that, not about her YouTube channel, about Braden Johnson, none of it.”

  Sarah said, “Talking about what? Quentin didn't bring up the wedding or her epic meltdown fiasco.”

  Hayley shot Sarah an eat-shit look.

  I said, “No worries, we're cool, Hayley.”

  “Oh yeah?” She dragged me by my arm to the side and loudly whispered. “We're cool? Tonight you sat out in your Prius for ten minutes before even coming up here. Remind me what you were thinking about?”

  “Going back to Los Angeles.”

  “That's freaking three thousand miles away and you just got here. How long have we been best friends?”

  “Forever,” I slurred. “And even though I barely kept in touch, you kept checking in. Because you're the best.”

  “And after your Facebook Live meltdown, I convinced you to come home and promised you no one would bother you about it. I made everyone promise.”She glowered over at Sarah.

  “It really is okay, Hayley. I accomplished the three things I meant to do tonight. I got dressed, I didn't kill my parents though they are driving me crazy, and I came to the party, I'm really grateful you're looking out for me, but it's cool, it really is.”

  I didn't mention the fourth thing I was planning: get James Cook to sleep with me so I could pretend for about an hour that I was desirable again. Not that Hayley would mind, she generally supported any of my insane ideas.

  I glanced over at James and he winked.

  Game on.

  “Okay,” Hayley said. “Fine, you can do it if it doesn't make you tailspin even more.”

  “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, and we should get back over there, James is looking forlorn, rub up against him, and make him happy again.”

  “That's what I've been saying to myself all night.”

  I said to the group, “Sure, I'll show you a hack, what the hell, but I'm out of practice.”


  James asked, “What do people do out there in Los Angeles when they aren't filming themselves?”

  I grabbed his cup and took a long drink. “Oxygen bars, yoga classes, vegan restaurants.”

  James joked, “Well, LA Girl, maybe in the morning I can remind you how delicious bacon is.”

  I slurred, “Oh I remember your bacon.” And pretty much the whole party died laughing. Because, yes, that was funny, it was almost like I had my mojo back.

  Then my mind went completely blank. I had been making a video a day for two years with hacks, decorations, and recipes, so how come I couldn't come up with anything now?

  I glanced around the kitchen. “Do you guys know the correct way to eat an apple?” I climbed up on the counter and swung my legs over the side. I plucked a very shiny green apple from a fruit bowl and spun it by its stem. “But first, I have to ask, why the hell do you have a fruit bowl, James?”

  James said, “Um, Sarah decorated.”

  I cocked my brow at James. “Ah, yes, mom told me she's a decorator. Let me guess, you threw some business her way?”

  Michael laughed. “Oh he threw some business her way.”

  I turned to Sarah. “You sure keep it in the family, is there anyone on the island you haven't slept with?” I had kind of thought James was off limits to my friends, but to be fair I hadn't been with him in over five years. I said it anyway though, because drunk, also habit — saying things, doing things, without thinking them through first. Exactly why I lost my whole life, career, home, earlier that month.