Teasing this particular boy had been a bad idea—especially in light of the lecture I’d given him the night before. I pivoted to my left, leapt over a small pile of blankets, and ran around the back of the sofa. Feeling like the worst kind of coward, I stopped and faced him with the large piece of furniture between us. The corners of his mouth turned down in a disappointed frown.
“Um … I’m sorry?” It came out as a question because I didn’t have any idea how to diffuse the situation. I offered him a small smile. He stared at me blankly for several seconds and then grinned.
“No, I’m sorry. I suppose I have no’ seen legs—ah—like yours before.” He shrugged ruefully. “For future reference, lass, dangling bait in front of a hungry shark is a bad idea.”
The laughter bubbled out of me. “Really? Thanks for the advice.”
Jamie picked up a clump of brown cloth and threw it at my chest. “I think ye better put these on. Before I do somethin’ verra un-princelike.”
My eyes widened at the implication of his words. Quickly tugging on the pants, I sprinted from the room.
Safely ensconced in the small—but to my immense relief, well-equipped—bathroom, I leaned against the door, sucking in ragged breaths. I had to remember my goal—get the journal out of Doon and, in the process, get myself out of the way, so Jamie could marry Sofia and live happily ever after.
Less than forty-eight hours, Veronica. You can do this!
I walked over to the sink, splashed cold water on my face, and then left the room in search of Jamie. Following the scent of eggs frying in butter, I found him in the kitchen. Thankfully, he was wearing a shirt and … cooking?
“You’re making breakfast?” I asked in disbelief.
“Aye, I’m no’ an invalid, you know.” He gestured with his spatula. “Take a moment to enjoy the view.”
The kitchen jutted out over the treetops at a right angle. Wood framed windows lined three of the walls, giving an unobstructed view of the valley below; a sea of verdant trees made even more vibrant by sunshine glistening off the melting snow.
Jamie set two plates of over-easy eggs, bread, and cheese on a small table. “After you, m’ lady,” he insisted, holding a chair out for me.
I took the seat he offered and breathed in the savory aroma of hot eggs. My mouth watered and I realized I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Jamie brought two mugs of steaming tea to the table and sat down.
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely impressed.
“Yer quite welcome.”
A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth and I couldn’t look away. I searched his face, longing to find some fault with him, some desperate flaw that I could cling to, so when I compared guys to him in my future—as I inevitably would—they wouldn’t fall miserably short in every way.
Ah, crud, I might as well become a cat lady!
I tore my eyes away from him and stabbed my eggs with such force that my fork clinked against the plate. I refused to think about the gaping black hole that was my future. Instead, I focused on filling my belly.
“So, what part of America are ye from?” he asked as he chewed—talking with his mouth full, per usual.
“Indiana. A small town in the midwest called Bainbridge.”
“And yer parents? How are they?” His expression was indecipherable and so fascinating I had to force my attention away from him and back to my food.
Gathering a bite of cheese and eggs on my fork, I contemplated the best way to answer his question. “My parents split up when I was twelve and …” I swallowed, but the food stuck in my throat. I gulped a mouthful of scalding tea and then stared out the window. Maybe telling him I lived in the shoddiest part of town in a run-down two-bedroom rental house with my chronically absent mom, or that my dad chose drugs over me, wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t want him to see me as some charity case, or worse, someone who needed rescuing—well, more rescuing.
I turned back to the table and found Jamie watching me contemplatively. “And?”
“And I haven’t seen my dad since.” I shrugged. “It’s no big deal, it was a long time ago.”