“Honestly,” Brodie carried on. “I’m surprised Fraser didn’t squash my da like a bug.”
“Ah, but Joseph is tenacious. It was kind of like a bad-tempered pug taking on a grumpy old collie.”
“Your dad’s a collie?”
“How about a Saint Bernard?” she asked.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a humorless Doberman.”
“That’s only because he never lets you scratch his soft underbelly.” This was fun. Katya hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their dynamic—their friendship. Especially when it came to dealing with family.
Brodie shuddered. “After seeing far more of Fraser’s underbelly than I ever wanted to see, I’m truly grateful I’m not allowed anywhere near it.”
“Your reaction was too slow. You need to learn to close your eyes as soon as the kilt starts flying.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said drolly.
“What bothers me most is the fact we never get to finish a meal,” Katya complained.
“Aye, we’re no’ having much luck in that department. I’m also sorely disappointed we didn’t make it to pudding. I bet your mum made rhubarb crumble.”
Brodie grinned at Katya’s loud gagging noises. “I’m glad we missed pudding, although I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish lunch because now I’m starving.”
He glanced over at her. “Want to pick up some hot chips at the pub?”
“I think, after this morning, we should probably keep out of Dougal’s way.”
“Well, the spa restaurant is out. We won’t get anything there until we’ve paid for the repairs—and calmed down. Deke’s words, not mine.” He gave her a dark look. “You’re barely back in town a week, and we’re already personae non gratae at the two main restaurants.”
Katya chuckled at his use of the plural of persona non grata. They’d once looked it up in high school after being banned from the summer fair. “A pity it’s Sunday, or we could have hit up the bakery.” Sometimes, living in a tiny town was seriously inconvenient—especially when running out of places to eat.
Brodie checked his watch. “The fish and chip shop opens in a couple of hours. If you can survive until then, we can get some deep-fried pizza.”
“Now you’re talking.” Although… “Can we swing by the garage to pick up some chocolate to tide us over?”
“Your wish is my command.” He took a left and headed for the petrol station.
“And after”—Katya knew she was chancing her luck on Brodie’s good mood—“we could drive out to see my plane.”
“Didn’t you spend most of yesterday with it?”
“You mean when you were being patched up? Yeah, I did.” She took a deep breath and went for it. “It’s such a lovely afternoon that I thought we could go for a ride.”
There was no reply. In fact, Brodie was quiet for such a long time that Katya wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
“I said, why don’t we go up in my plane this afternoon?” she repeated, louder this time.
“Aye, I know what you said.” He grimaced. “I’m trying to figure out how to reply without starting a fight.”
That had her zeroing in on him with precision-focused attention. “What exactly do you mean, Brodie?” Her tone made it clear he should be very careful how he answered.
“It means you can be a bit sensitive about your plane.”
Obviously, he’d missed her tone. “Are you worried you might somehow damage it?”
“No,” he said slowly.
“Then it’s my skills as a pilot that bother you?” Surely he couldn’t miss the sub-zero tone on that one.
Thankfully, he wasn’t that dense. “Believe it or not, I trust you fine. I know whatever you set your mind to, you’ll work at it until you’re the best.”
Katya settled back in her seat, somewhat mollified. “Then what’s the problem?”
He sighed. “I don’t trust the plane. It’s a flying fossil. Even Boeing decommission their aircraft after a few years because of wear and tear. That plane’s decades past being decommissioned. Decades.”
“First, the plane isn’t a fossil, it’s a classic,” she corrected. “You understand classic machines—you had an old motorbike, and you had no problem riding it.”
“I still do, but that’s a well-designed piece of engineering, not a Soviet craft project held together with glue and string.”
Okay, now he was really pissing her off. “I’ll have you know I rebuilt that plane myself. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. I wouldn’t go up in it if there was.”
Brodie gave her the side-eye. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t exactly unbiased.”
“Why is it people always say ‘don’t take this the wrong way’ when they know there’s only one way to take what they’re about to say—with offense?”
“I knew I should have kept my mouth shut,” he mumbled. “Look, it isn’t you; it’s the plane.” He gestured out the windscreen. “It’s one of Scotland’s rare, perfect summer days, and I don’t want to ruin it by dropping from the sky and dying in a ball of flames.”
“You’re overreacting. These planes hardly ever crash.” Katya didn’t bother telling him their top speed was so slow that you could generally cut the engine and glide in for a landing if there was a problem. She was fairly sure Brodie wouldn’t find the information comforting. Not to mention, the planes were designed to fly at really low altitudes, which made them great for sneaking under the radar or taking tourists on a look-see. In fact, they could fly so low she was fairly certain they could jump out if something serious happened, risking only broken legs.
Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but the plane was safe—damn it.
“Hardly ever?” His eyebrows shot up. “There are about a million stories of them crashing in among all that stuff you’ve collected. Your own great-granny barely made it out of a crash alive.”
“A million’s a massive exaggeration, and Natasha was shot down. Under normal circumstances, the plane would have been fine, and they would never have crashed. Which means, unless somebody’s out gunning for you, I think we’ll be fine.”
His lips thinned, and he shook his head. “Nope. Not doing it.”
“Stop being a big baby, Brodie.”
“Say that ten times fast.” He flashed a grin before turning serious again. “I’m okay with being a big baby. As long as I’m one on solid ground. Look at this body.” He lifted his shirt to flash his abs. “Does that look soft to you? No. A man is not designed to bounce if he falls from a great height.”
Katya rolled her eyes. “You’re totally overreacting.”
“Okay.” He parked in front of the petrol station shop and climbed out.
She followed. “Okay? That’s all you have to say?”
“Aye.” He pushed open the door to the shop. “My ego’s healthy enough to cope with being accused of overreacting—just so long as it keeps me out of an ancient plane.”
“Come on, Brodie, don’t be pathetic,” Katya cajoled as she followed him inside.
An old school friend working the counter squealed when they walked in. “Look at this!” she called. “It’s the terrible twosome!”
“Good to see you, Suzanne.” Katya walked over to say hi, but almost tripped when she spotted her belly. “Wow. You’re pregnant.”
Suzanne patted her belly. “This is our fifth. We’re hoping for a boy this time.”
“We? Fifth?” She glanced at Brodie for confirmation.
“Suzanne married Brian Thompson from the year below us,” he said as he picked up snacks.
“He’s my toy boy.” Suzanne giggled.
“Five kids?” Katya was still stuck on the number. “How is that possible? We’re the same age, and I’m only…”
“Thirty.” Brodie slung an arm around her shoulders and grinned at her. “You feel a whole lot older now, don’t you?”
“We started early,” Suzanne said with a laugh. “You know, I always wanted a
big family. We think this will be the last one, though, even if it isn’t a boy. Our eldest is eighteen months away from becoming a teenager, and we’re not sure we can cope with that and another baby.”
Yeah, Katya wasn’t following her logic. She pointed at Suzanne’s very pregnant belly. “Won’t that one be a toddler when your eldest hits their teens? How’s that better than having a baby and a teen?”
Suzanne shrugged. “We figure they can both act out together.”
As Brodie paid for the chocolate, Katya stared at Suzanne in shock. They’d spent their teens following the same bands and complaining about boys—Brodie for Katya, the rest of the boys in their year group for Suzanne. They’d even gone through the same experimental hairstyle phase together. Now here they were: Suzanne happily married with four and a half kids, and Katya basically divorced and homeless with only an old plane to her name.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Brodie said as they walked back outside into the sunshine. “You’re wondering if you or Suzanne made the better life choices.”
She frowned at his smug smile and the reminder he knew her far too well. “No, I wasn’t,” she lied as her gaze skimmed over a wooden table and bench set, and an idea popped into her mind. “I was wondering if you were up to a bout of arm wrestling.” She grinned at him. “If you win, we don’t fly today. I win, you let me take you up in my plane. What do you say? You too chicken to take me on?”
It was almost cute, the way Katya thought she could beat him at arm wrestling. “No, I’m not chicken. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a wee bit more muscle than the last time you beat me.”
“I would hope so,” she said. “You stopped wrestling me when we were twelve, and your delicate ego couldn’t cope with losing.”
“No, I just couldn’t stand listening to you gloat anymore.”
“Whatever.” She waved a hand. “Are we wrestling or not?”
“This is dumb.”
“Brodie.” She turned his name into a complaint.
“Fine.” He lumbered over to the table. “One match. None of this best-out-of-three crap.”
“I only need one.” Katya sat on the bench opposite him, the attached wooden table between them. “You ready?” She put her elbow in the middle of the table and held up her hand.
Brodie clasped it with a sigh. “You’re only going to embarrass yourself; are you sure you want that?”
“I’ll live,” she said with a sweet smile that made him suddenly suspicious.
“You cheat, you forfeit.” He reminded her of their lifelong rule, brought in after their escalating attempts at cheating had gotten out of hand.
“I have no intention of cheating.” She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and tensed. “You ready?”
“Aye.”
“Then go!”
He knew it wouldn’t be easy. Katya was no wimp, which meant he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t go down straight away.
“Goodness,” she said, “I don’t know if it’s the sun making me hot or watching all that muscle flex. I need to cool down before I overheat.” She started unbuttoning her shirt with her free hand.
Damn it, there was nowhere else to look except at the exceptional cleavage being revealed, button by button.
“Katya,” he warned.
“This isn’t cheating. You don’t want me to faint from the heat, do you?” Her shirt was fully unbuttoned now, a sliver of skin exposed between the two halves, revealing a red lacy bra.
He groaned.
She held the edge of her shirt and flapped it to fan herself, exposing heaven from her throat to the waistband of her jeans. “Ooo,” she moaned. “The cool air feels so good on my skin. I wish I could strip everything off.”
That’s when Brodie lost the match.
As Katya rebuttoned her shirt with a smirk, Brodie registered laughter coming from nearby. He looked over to see Kade and Conall sitting at the other picnic table beside the building.
“How long have you two been here?” He glared at them.
“Long enough to see the show.” Kade grinned. “Thank you, Kat.”
“You’re welcome.” That was Kat—she didn’t have one ounce of self-consciousness in her entire body.
“We called out to you,” Conall said, still staring at Katya. “Obviously didn’t hear us.”
“Eyes on me,” Brodie barked, earning a sheepish smile from his brother.
“I didn’t notice you at all.” Katya reached for the chocolate and unwrapped a bar. She looked so pleased with herself that if they’d been near the loch, he would have dunked her in to help “cool her off.”
“Aye, we gathered,” Kade said, clearly amused. “It brought back memories of being ignored by you both all through my youth.”
“I don’t remember that either,” she said.
“What do you want?” Brodie was fed up with their double act and more than a little nervous about what he’d lost in the match with Katya. He eyed the sky. Still cloudless. Still no wind. How hard could it be for a wee plane to stay up there?
“We wanted to say hello and find out how lunch went.” Kade popped open a can of soft drink, which made Brodie realize they’d been in the shop too. Huh, he’d missed that as well.
“I want to know what Katya gets for winning your arm-wrestling match,” Conall added.
“Lunch ended with the dads fighting on the floor,” Brodie said.
“And Brodie has to come flying with me this afternoon.” Katya beamed at everyone as she stood. “I need a cola; anyone else want anything?” There was stunned silence at her announcement of their bet. “I’ll take that as a no,” she said as she headed into the shop.
Of course, as soon as she was out of earshot, their audience chimed in with unwanted opinions.
“You’re going up in her plane?” Conall gaped at him. “Is that safe? Do planes need a certificate to say they’ve passed an airworthy test? I mean, cars get an MOT, so there must be something like that for a plane. Right?”
“I don’t know. She says it’s safe.” Brodie ran a hand over his face, wincing when it struck his nose. Although the bruising around his eyes had gone down significantly, and his teeth looked like new, his nose still throbbed from the break.
“Of course, she’d say it’s safe.” Kade rolled his eyes. “Remember the old wall you two tried to climb, and it crumbled? She said that was safe too. And the rotting tree whose branches kept falling off while you were up it? Perfectly safe, according to her. Are you sure you want to take her word for the plane?”
“There’s a difference.” Katya sat back down, drink in hand. “I’m a certified airplane mechanic. I wasn’t qualified to assess the wall or the tree—and I was a kid.”
“You won’t crash and die, then?” Conall asked in all seriousness.
Brodie pointed at him. “See? It isn’t only me.”
“MacGregors.” She shook her head. “Nobody’s going to crash and die. Okay?”
“Well”—Conall shared a look with Kade—“in that case, where are you flying, and where’s the best place to watch?”
“Can we rig up a camera on the plane?” Kade added with a grin. “We’d only aim it at Brodie.”
“Aye, we’ll take bets on whether he’ll puke or scream like a baby.” Conall had his phone out, his thumbs dancing over the screen, no doubt informing the rest of their brothers about Brodie’s afternoon flight.
“We need evidence of what he does,” Kade said.
“No camera,” Brodie decreed, hoping Katya would back him up. She just kept drinking from her can, which wasn’t a disagreement but wasn’t a reassuring agreement either.
“Brodie.” Conall pointed at him. “Darach says to turn on your phone and call us, so we can listen in during the flight. That way, we don’t need a camera; we’ll hear if he screams or pukes.”
“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” Katya tossed the empty can into the bin behind her. “You’ve flown before, haven’t you?”
Th
ere’d been no need to fly when they were together. They couldn’t afford to holiday abroad, and everyone he knew lived in Invertary. Plus, exotic holidays weren’t exactly a staple for the MacGregors. They were lucky if they went camping up Ben Nevis for a week in July. That’s why his first—and last—flight had taken place after Katya left. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been alone. He’d gone on a trip to Spain with all six of his brothers.
“I’ve flown,” he gritted out.
“Aye.” Conall laughed. “He hyperventilated and had to breathe into a paper bag. We thought he was going to pass out, and we’d need to carry him from the plane.”
“It was a dangerous flight,” Brodie reminded them.
“No, it wasn’t,” Kade said.
Brodie shook his head. “There was a thunderstorm. The plane was bouncing around like a ball in a bingo machine. People were screaming.”
“You were the only one screaming,” Conall said. “Plus, there was no storm, just rain.”
“He kept demanding to get off the plane,” Kade continued their story. “Said the pilot was trying to kill us, and it was his legal right to be allowed onto the ground. There was no reasoning with him, so Knox faked talking to the pilot and told Brodie we were about to land and he might like a wee dram to calm his nerves while they did.”
“He downed half a bottle of whisky and spent the rest of the flight passed out and drooling,” Conall said.
“As soon as we landed, he puked all over Bain.”
Brodie’s two brothers were laughing so hard their faces had turned purple.
“They’re exaggerating,” he told Katya.
“We have the photos and video to prove it,” Kade, the traitor, told her.
To her credit, Katya wasn’t laughing along with his soon-to-be-dead brothers, although her eyes were dancing. “How did you get home?”
“I’d planned on taking the train through the Chunnel, but they spiked my coffee with sleeping pills and dragged me onto the plane. I don’t remember much else.”
“They almost didn’t let him fly,” Kade said. “It was touch and go whether we’d have to leave him alone in the airport to sleep it off.”
Come Fly With Me Page 22
