“I think I remember you were the one who distracted me last time.” I smile over at him.
“I didn’t see you complaining about it.” That cocky smirk he gives me gets me every single time.
We’ve now been playing the game for an hour or so, one very heated hour as the competitiveness between both of us takes over.
“No, I’m not going to do a deal with you. Then you would have a set,” Luke moans.
Not my fault I’m awesome at this game.
“Look, I can give you…” Looking at my cards, I try to find something that might sweeten the pot, but then there’s a loud banging at the door. We both freeze while the banging continues.
“Stay here,” Luke tells me protectively as he rushes over to answer the door.
Cold air rushes inside as soon as the door is open.
“Lilly. We need Lilly. There’s been an accident.” I can hear a man’s voice calling out.
Jumping out of my chair, I rush to the front door and see Alfie Tate, Alistair’s youngest brother.
“Alfie, what’s going on?” Worry courses through my veins. Has something happened to Lauren and Alistair in Africa?
“Nan’s had a fall. There lots of blood.” His face turns pale at his words.
“Is she conscious?” He nods his head. “Okay, let me grab my stuff. I’ll meet you there,” I tell Alfie before rushing around the cottage finding my boots and a jacket.
“I’ll come with you,” Luke adds, grabbing his jacket.
I look up at him. “You don’t have to.”
“I can drive,” he adds.
“Fine. Let me grab the first-aid kit, and let’s go.”
We head out in the snowstorm and carefully make our way over to the Tate’s farm. I can see the smoke billowing out of their chimney, the bright glow of the lights on at Nanny Tate’s cottage. Grabbing my kit from out of the back of Luke’s 4WD, I head on down the snowy path and open the wooden doors.
“Lilly.” Margaret, Alistair’s mom, wraps her arms around me. “Thank you so much for coming in this weather. Doc Finnigan is on holiday.” Her eyes widen over my shoulder as Luke walks in behind me. “Oh my…” I can see her taking in Luke’s form behind me. Glencoe isn’t used to seeing someone as exotic as Luke around these parts.
I stomp my feet a couple of times shaking off the snow from my boots, the sound bringing Margaret back to the present. Quickly, I shuck them off and follow her to where Nanny Tate is currently sitting on the kitchen chair. There’s a nasty gash on her forehead, and blood dripping down all over her nightgown. Bernard, Alistair’s dad, is cleaning up the bloody mess on the kitchen floor.
“Lilly Simpson,” Nanny Tate calls out. That’s good she’s still coherent. “I told them not to fuss.” She looks around at her family. The woman is almost ninety, but age doesn’t stop her from being independent.
“I know, but I think it’s better to be safe, don’t you think?” I say walking over to her.
“Oh my… I must be concussed because I see the handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my almost ninety years…” she smiles, “… and I’ve seen many.”
Her attention is being pulled to where Luke stands in the doorway—naughty little thing.
“This is Luke, he’s a guest at the cottage.”
“Buona serata, signora Tate. Have a good evening.” Turning on all of his Italian charm, I think I heard all the females in a radius of one hundred yards collectively sigh.
“Oh… he’s Italian.” Nanny Tate fans her face. “You know they say Italians are the best lovers,” she whispers that last bit to me making me laugh as I begin to clean up her wound.
“Ma,” Bernard chastises his mother, but I can see a smirk on his face.
Nanny Tate waves him off. “He’s a vast improvement from that horrible Englishman she was dating.”
“Nanny Tate!” Now, it’s Alfie’s turn to tell Nan off, and I laugh.
“You know, I’m English, too.”
Nanny Tate simply shakes her head. “We consider you one of us Scots. You’ve spent more time up here than down there,” she says with a little disdain for London. Even after a couple of millennia, the rivalry between England and Scotland is still very much alive.
“It looks like I’m going to have to give you some stitches, Nanny Tate. I promise they won’t hurt at all.”
“Sweetheart, I gave birth to that boofhead over there with no drugs, and he was a nine-pounder.”
“Ma,” Bernard moans with a smile.
“Why do you think I only had one child. If they had vagina tightening back in my day, maybe I’d have had more.” The room erupts into hollers at Nanny Tate’s use of the word ‘vagina.’
Turning my head to check on Luke, I see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a big grin on his face.
I use numbing cream around the wound.
“Sweetheart,” Nanny Tate calls out to Luke. “Would you mind holding my hand.” She holds out her thin hand to him.
“I’d be honored, signora.” Giving her his megawatt smile, he takes her hand and gently kisses it.
“Such a gentleman.” She swoons. “Lilly, did you see that?”
“Yes, I did.” I smile at her as I prepare everything for the stitches.
“You know our Lilly is single and a very successful doctor,” she tells Luke.
“Si, I have heard.”
“She’s a catch.”
“I can tell,” he adds.
“She’d be different than the normal women you have dated.” Those shrewd eyes glare at him, and Luke seems surprised at her comment.
“Ma, stop matchmaking,” Margaret groans.
“Lauren’s now married off. Why can’t we marry off Lilly, too?” Nanny Tate seems a little surprised that this hasn’t been done yet.
“I’m sorry, Lilly,” Margaret apologizes.
“Signora,” Luke addresses her. “Lilly and I have just finished complicated relationships.” Nanny Tate’s eyes go wide at his honesty. “It’s not our time yet.”
He said yet?
Wait! What? Concentrate on what you’re doing, Lilly.
Nanny Tate’s eyes narrow as she takes in Luke’s words. “I think that’s fair, I like your honesty, young man.” Wow! That is high praise coming from
