“Oh!” Startled, I glanced down at my bare legs. I was fairly sure I’d been wearing pants the night before. I tugged the shirt down to cover my thighs and wondered why I felt so embarrassed. My cheer-skirt barely covered my behind, and I’d practically lived in it during football season. Maybe it was all the long skirts and stockings I’d worn for the last two weeks.
“What are ye—Och!” Jamie cut off as he noticed my missing clothes.
“I must have kicked them off during the night,” I explained as I sat next to the mound of blankets and began searching for my pants.
“I have seen legs before, ye know,” Jamie said with studied casualness.
I glanced up to find him staring at me with a boyish grin, his eyes fixed on my one bare leg visible between the disarray of blankets. I was pretty sure viewing a woman’s naked legs—especially the length that was currently visible below my shirt—would be considered taboo in his culture. Something about the situation made me feel giddy—and a little powerful.
Without taking my eyes off him, I experimentally removed the blanket covering my right leg and watched in satisfaction as his eyes widened. Slowly, I stood, allowing the shirt to fall into place just above my knees. Jamie cleared his throat but his eyes stayed locked in the downward position. Knowing I was playing with fire but unable to resist, I lifted my arms above my head with a great yawn. As I stretched onto my toes, the hem of the shirt rose to the top of my thighs.
“By the saints,” Jamie muttered, shoving a hand through his sleep-tousled hair.
Fluidly, I lowered my arms and brought my feet to rest flat on the floor. The knowledge that I could beat him at his own game filled me with wicked satisfaction. Then I caught his eye, and the forceful heat of his stare hit me like a wave, almost knocking me back onto the sofa. With great deliberation, he moved in my direction. And I knew I was in way over my head.
“Ah … Jamie? I ah … need to … Is there a privy I can use?”
“Aye, it’s through that door.” His voice low, he pointed in the general direction of the room he’d slept in. But with a mountain of blankets blocking my most direct path and Jamie advancing toward me, I was trapped.
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.”
Jamie set his fork down with exaggerated slowness. “Tell me about him.” He paused. “Please.”
I stared at the boy of my dreams, his golden hair falling in wavy locks across his forehead, his brown eyes brimming with warmth and encouragement, and the words began pouring out of me.
“He was a great dad, never missed a single dance recital, bedtime story, or family dinner, but then both his parents died within months of each other. He couldn’t handle it, I guess. He began disappearing for days at a time, coming home strung out—on drugs, I mean.” Jamie nodded his understanding, so I continued. “After awhile, he barely remembered my name.” Jamie took my hand in his large, rough fingers.
“On my twelfth birthday, I woke to find the dad I used to know, his face open, his eyes clear, and I knew it was going to be a good day.” I stared out the window, but all I could see was my dad’s face as it had been that day, asking me what I wanted for my first “big girl” birthday. “I told him I wanted a strawberry-flavored cake with pink frosting, and a surprise.”
My gaze shifted back to Jamie, he was leaning forward in his seat, sheltering my hand in both of his. “Daddy said, ‘Okay, Sweet Pea, one pink cake and a special surprise coming up!’ He hugged me and said he’d be back before dinner.”
I swallowed, my words coming out in a whisper. “That was the last time I ever saw him.”
Jamie was out of his seat in a blur and pulled me into his arms before I could blink the gathering tears out of my eyes. He stroked my hair from the top of my head, down to the middle of my back, making soothing noises. I rested my head on his chest, feeling the strong steady beat of his heart resonate inside me.
“Verranica, I’m so sorry.”
I blinked rapidly and clenched my teeth against the memories of my past life, trying not to dwell on what little I had to go back to, or how being in this boy’s arms made me feel like I was home for the first time in a long time.
“He has no idea what he’s missing.”
I leaned back and stared at him, my brows scrunched over my eyes. “What did you say?”
