Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt (Hot Scots #4)

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, Jamie leaned against the vestibule wall watching Rory haul several suitcases out the door and to the Jaguar F-Type convertible waiting in the drive. Emery had gone to the kitchen to get "munchies for the trip."

Rory strode into the vestibule, not even breathing hard after lugging the suitcases. He liked to toss cabers — which Emery called "giant toothpicks," a term that always made Rory roll his eyes — so Jamie supposed all that caber practice had given her brother the fortitude for hauling his wife's overstuffed bags to the car.

"You're ready to leave," Jamie said.

"As soon as my wife finishes raiding the pantry." Rory averted his gaze, grasping the back of his neck, and his mouth twisted at one corner. "Jamie, I, ah, need to tell you something."

Jamie resisted the impulse to smile with no small effort. Only once before had she seen her brother this embarrassed and uncomfortable, and that had been because Emery asked him to dress up as Thor for Halloween. Still, to Jamie's surprise, he'd done it. After three months with Emery, Rory would do anything she asked of him. He loved her that much.

Would anyone love Jamie that much? Gavin couldn't even commit to one continent for her. Though he was staying in Scotland for now, he'd said nothing about staying for good — or asking her to move to America.

Rory cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have brought Trevor here. I'm sorry."

Jamie pushed away from the wall. "Rory MacTaggart apologizing to his little sister? Are unicorns dancing on the lawn too?"

He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and sighed. "These American wives of ours are a bad influence on the MacTaggart women."

"Are you claiming I was a wallflower before I met Erica, Calli, and Emery?"

Though his mouth opened, he seemed unable to produce words. His eyebrows cinched together over his nose.

"Well?" she said, bouncing up onto her toes. "Did you think I was a wuss-face before they showed up?"

She liked using an Emery word, "wuss-face." Her sister-in-law had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary, and the way it stymied Rory was a bonus.

"I — no — that's not —" He glanced around desperately as if praying his wife would turn up to rescue him.

Jamie laughed and slapped his chest with the back of her hand. "That's what you get for inviting my ex-fiancé to the Halloween party. It's the MacTaggart tradition of harassing each other."

Rory relaxed, nodding in relief. "Aye, it is. And I deserved that one."

"Yes, you did."

He rubbed his jaw. "I am sorry, Jamie. Emery's right, I'm a knucklehead."

Jamie pinched his arm so lightly he didn't even flinch. "We love you anyway."

Rory pulled a face. He started to speak, but something past Jamie's shoulder caught his attention and he went rock-still for a moment.

A wide and exuberant grin stretched his lips tight and exposed his teeth. His eyes sparkled.

Jamie turned sideways to Rory to see what he was looking at, beaming at, though she already knew the answer. Emery had walked into the vestibule, her arms laden with a cardboard box full of snack-food items.

Rory's wife grinned at him exactly the way he grinned at her.

Jamie's gut churned. They adored each other and weren't ashamed to let everyone see it. Had anyone ever adored Jamie that way? Maybe Gavin did, but his unnamed issues wouldn't let him show it. He might never behave the way her brothers did toward their wives because Gavin wasn't the sort to gush and moon.

Rory rushed to Emery and plucked the box from her arms. He pressed his mouth to hers for a sweet, lingering kiss that made Jamie's skin go cold.

She wasn't jealous of her brother and his wife. She wasn't. That would be childish.

"Are we ready?" Rory asked Emery.

"Yep," his wife said. She glanced to Jamie and gave her that mischievous smile. "Have fun while we're gone."

Fun? Jamie struggled to keep her shoulders from slumping. The next three weeks would be anything but enjoyable.

When had she lost her positive outlook? It had probably flown away on Rory's jet the last time it transported Gavin back to America.

Emery squeezed Rory's bicep, raising her eyebrows as she gave him an appreciative smile. When she ambled out the vestibule door, Rory followed.

He paused near Jamie. In a grave tone, he said, "Stay out of my office and the third floor."

The third and highest floor housed Rory and Emery's bedroom. What did he think Jamie was going to do in there? Silly man .

She saluted and clicked her heels together. "Aye-aye, sir."

He shook his head, smiling slightly, and left.

Jamie wandered outside to stand near the drive as Emery and Rory departed in the sports car. As the cherry-red vehicle disappeared from view, Jamie sighed and turned back to the house. The gray-stone castle loomed before her, suddenly seeming like an imposing blockade instead of a home. She'd always liked Dùndubhan. Facing three weeks alone here, though, she got a strange sick feeling in her stomach.

You are not a wuss-face. Time to show Trevor and Gavin they can't push you around. It was time to reassert control over her own destiny.

If Trevor pestered her, she'd tell him to go to hell.

And if Gavin wanted her back, he'd have to fight for it.

*****

Sweat dribbled down Gavin's face and neck. He swiped an arm across his forehead, sucked in a breath, and swung the sledgehammer up for another blow. The hammer crashed down on the stone wall, smashing rocks free and scattering them across the ground. Five days had gone by since the last time he'd touched Jamie. He'd glimpsed her coming and going at Aidan's office, but otherwise, she'd steered clear of him. Their intensely intimate encounter at Iain's house had left her shaken. Gavin understood that, but he refused to sit around waiting for her to summon him.

Every day, he called her. Several times a day. At first, she wouldn't speak to him. Gradually, she allowed a little conversation of the impersonal kind —" nice weather, huh" and the like — and then last night she'd engaged in some lighthearted discussion of her family's antics. Gavin didn't mind hearing about the MacTaggarts' shenanigans, but he would've rather talked about their relationship.

Yeah, it was really ironic. He, the guy, wanting to talk while she, the girl, clammed up whenever he tried to maneuver the conversation toward the relationship zone. Leanne would never have believed him capable of touchy-feely stuff. Maybe he'd changed since the divorce. Maybe Jamie brought something out in him no other woman ever had.

None of that mattered if she wouldn't open up to him.

Gavin swung the sledgehammer again, pummeling the stone wall.

"Feels good, eh?" Iain said, grinning.

The odd Scot held his own sledgehammer, and together, they'd demolished a short section of the old wall. Thirty years ago, a farmer had built this wall as a dry-stone construction, meaning it had no mortar. The guy had planned to pen his sheep with the fence, but he fell on hard times and sold the sheep and the land. A later owner had tried to slap on some mortar after the fact, which wound up creating a mess. The homemade mortar had turned hard as cement. Aidan had hired Gavin and Iain to tear down the wall for the new owner.

Gavin had no doubts Iain had talked Aidan into hiring him. When Iain informed Gavin that Aidan needed their "help," the older man had assured Gavin, "Aidan desperately needs us. It's rather embarrassing, in fact, how much he begged."

Yeah, right . Aidan begging for Gavin's help? Iain had to be kidding, Gavin realized, though he spotted only one sign the guy was pulling his leg. The slight upward tick of one side of Iain's mouth clued Gavin in to the guy's plan. Gavin had decided to call it Operation Get the Pathetic American a Job So He Won't Feel Like Such a Loser. A long name, for sure, but it summed up the situation.

"Don't see how this is helping me," Gavin said. "But it is kind of fun."

Iain set the head of his sledgehammer on the ground and leaned into the handle. "Imagining those rocks are Trevor Langley's head?"

"Maybe." Oh yeah, definitely, but Iain didn't need to know everything. "You sure Aidan's okay with me working for him?"

"As long as you can do the work, he doesn't mind." Iain gazed out across the fields that surrounded the old farmhouse and the remains of the wall. "Do you still feel useless?"

"No." Somehow, whacking rocks energized him with a new sense of purpose and a renewed determination to work out his problems.

Iain took up his sledgehammer and winked at Gavin. "Told ye."

"What you told me," Gavin said, "was that I should get up off my erse and start acting like a man again. Not exactly a pep talk, oh Zen master MacTaggart."

Iain shrugged, swinging the sledgehammer up to rest it on his shoulder. "Never said I was a competent Zen master."

Gavin realized right then and there he would never understand Iain. "You're a weirdo, but I'm cool with that."

Iain shot Gavin an inscrutable smile and rammed his sledgehammer down on a section of the wall.

They smashed rocks for several minutes, too absorbed in the task to have a conversation. Despite the chilly weather, with temperatures that must've been in the upper forties, their shirts were soaked with sweat. The sun peeked out from the clouds on occasion, but mostly, the sky stayed gray and overcast. It had rained a bit earlier, the light and misty kind, but Gavin had enjoyed the cooling effect of the shower. He supposed he'd get a chill if he stopped working hard, so he kept working. Shattering a pile of stones had become therapeutic.

Which was probably what Iain had intended. The guy was sneaky and determined to "help" Gavin "sort of the way Emery helped Rory, but without the naked bits." Gavin did not ask for details or point out he was not uptight like Rory. Let Iain have his fun , Gavin decided. The guy seemed to need a project. And maybe, somehow, becoming Iain's pet project would help Gavin figure out where the hell his life had gone wrong.

Rain began to mist down on them again.

Gavin let his sledgehammer's head drop onto the earth, leaning into its long handle the way Iain had earlier. He turned his face up to the mist, eyes closed.

"Enjoying the rain?" Iain asked.

"It's kinda nice." Gavin ran a hand over his closed eyes, then glanced at his coworker-slash-roommate-slash-counselor. "Sure rains a lot in Scotland."

"Today's rain is tomorrow's whisky."

"Not a big fan of whisky. I prefer beer."

Iain wagged a finger at Gavin. "Best not let the Three Macs hear you say that. They treasure their single malts."

Gavin drummed his fingers on the sledgehammer's handle. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why they hate me. I drink beer instead of whisky."

"Never know. Having a wee dram now and then might grease the wheels, so to speak."

"Uh-huh." Gavin seriously doubted guzzling the right kind of booze would smooth out the potholes in the road between him and Jamie's brothers. He glanced at his watch and discovered he'd forgotten to wear it. He asked Iain, "What time is it? My stomach thinks it must be close to lunchtime."

"It is."

"How do you know? You didn't look at your watch."

"Donnae need to." Iain nodded past Gavin toward the old farmhouse surrounded by scaffolding, evidence of its renovation currently underway. "Have a look."

Gavin turned to glance back, and his heartbeat sped up.

In the driveway, Jamie leaned against Aidan's truck while she chatted with her brother. The flowy skirt she wore cascaded over her hips and down past her knees, its pastel colors matching the peasant top that draped loosely over her breasts and down her arms. The sun emerged from the clouds like it had come out solely to see her and touch her with its warm glow, streaming over her hair and painting the light-brown strands with molten gold.

Aidan pointed toward Gavin, though his focus stayed on his sister.

"I don't get it," Gavin said to Iain, though he couldn't look away from Jamie. "How do you know it's lunchtime because Jamie and Aidan are talking?"

"Look closer."

"At what? I don't —" Then Gavin noticed it. Plastic bags slouched on the ground at her feet, bags pooched out by the Styrofoam containers inside them. "Is that food?"

"Jamie brought lunch. She does it every day when she's working in the office."

"She's taking a vacation these days, at Rory's castle. Why would she drive all this way to bring lunch to the gang?"

"Ah, it's a mystery."

The knowing and slightly snarky tone of Iain's voice made Gavin swerve his attention to the other man, but Iain's expression gave away nothing.

"I know you're being sarcastic," Gavin said, "but I'm not getting the joke."

The Scot rolled his eyes heavenward. "How dense are ye? She came to see you."

Gavin's gaze flew to Jamie at the instant she smiled broadly at Aidan, her face lit up by the expression. So damn beautiful. Gavin rubbed a palm on his chest where an ache had sprouted.

Aidan picked up the plastic bags and strode in the direction of Iain and Gavin.

Jamie turned, leaning her front side against the truck. Her focus traveled over the landscape until it settled on Gavin. She raised a hand, wiggling her fingers at him in a faint wave.

He raised a hand but couldn't make his fingers move, or any other part of him except his jaw. It decided to go slack. Way to win back the girl, Romeo.

She pushed away from the truck and headed for the Mercedes parked behind it.

"If she came to see me," Gavin said, "why is she leaving? She never got within twenty feet of me."

"She saw you, though, didn't she?"

Was that all she'd wanted? To see him? Not to speak to him, no, she wouldn't want that. Sex only, she'd commanded. He knew Jamie too well to believe she actually wanted that, but he hadn't succeeded at gaining much ground in his battle to change her mind.

Maybe it was time for a different tactic.

He had no frigging idea what that might be.

Aidan reached Gavin and Iain and held up the bags of food. "Hungry?"

Iain dropped his sledgehammer and rubbed his palms together. "Fair starved. Smells like fish and chips."

Aidan shook his head at his cousin, his lips tightening into a closed-mouth smile. "Iain's nose may look like a hawk's, but he's got the smelling sense of a bloodhound. He can identify the kind of food from its smell, from thirty meters away."

Iain feigned disgust. "I'd rather be a hawk than a slavering dog."

Aidan told Gavin, "A hawk is more appropriate for Iain because he scavenges food from everyone. Keep your lunch in your lap with your hands over it, or this one'll steal your chips when you're not looking."

"Hawks are predators," Iain informed his cousin, "not scavengers."

"Which explains your attitude toward the lasses," Aidan said with a teasing smirk.

"You're one to talk," Iain said. "What was it they used to call you? Don Juan MacTaggart. At least I follow through, instead of teasing the poor lasses with flirtation that doesn't go anywhere."

"I didnae feel the need to get under the skirts of every woman in the Highlands." Aidan waved the lunch bags in Iain's face. "If you want my food, you should stop insulting me."

The older man straightened and said, with a faint smile, "Naturally, you were the greatest lover in all the United Kingdom. I can't hope to outdo your legend."

Aidan groaned out a sigh, probably at the blatant sarcasm in his cousin's tone. "When you meet the right woman, you'll feel differently about the lasses. A good one will change your life."

"Why settle for one when I can have them all?" Iain joked, but something in his eyes made Gavin wonder if he was thinking about his long-lost mystery girl.

Aidan led them around the remnants of the stone wall to a birch tree behind the farmhouse. Iain took a seat between two large roots of the leafless tree, his back against the trunk and his legs outstretched. Aidan perched on the largest root, using it like a low bench. Gavin dropped onto the grass facing the two of them. While Aidan handed out the Styrofoam boxes of fish and chips, Gavin surveyed the area behind the house.

His spine snapped straight, and he sharpened his gaze on Aidan. Gavin aimed one finger at the hulking object that had caught his eye. "What's that over there?"

Aidan tracked Gavin's finger to the large piece of machinery parked behind the house. With total innocence, Aidan said, "Looks like a backhoe. Imagine that."

"Yeah," Gavin said, his tone acidic, "imagine that. Why the hell are we breaking our backs with sledgehammers when you've got a backhoe?"

Chewing a hunk of fried fish, Aidan rotated his eyes toward his cousin and back to Gavin. "It was Iain's idea."

Gavin veered his sharp gaze to Iain. "Care to explain?"

"Thought the hard labor might do you good," Iain said while gnawing on a mouthful of fish. He swallowed the food, then shoved three chips — what Americans called French fries — into his mouth. He mumbled something made unintelligible by his chomping.

"Sorry," Gavin said, "didn't catch that. Your lame excuse was drowned out by the food you crammed into your trap."

Iain finished off his mouthful of chips, wiping his fingers on his jeans. "You needed a reminder of how to be a real man."

Gavin wolfed down three chips before he could speak without snarling. "Are you insulting me for fun, or is there a point?"

Aidan answered, since Iain was once again stuffing his face until his cheeks puffed out. "You haven't been acting like a man, have ye? Jamie's ex-fiancé turns up, and you let him strut around her like a randy stallion with a mare."

Gavin hissed a breath out his nose and bit off a large chunk of fried fish.

"Aye," Iain said. "That scunner plans to steal Jamie, and you're not doing a ruddy thing about it. You're a military man, aren't you? When did you turn into a dafty?"

"I am not a dafty — and I know that means a fool, by the way." Gavin slapped the piece of fish he'd been holding back into the Styrofoam box. "What am I supposed to do? If she wants him —"

"She doesn't want him," Iain said. "But you have to work for it if you want her back."

Aidan nodded. "Trevor's a scunner of a Sassenach."

Iain translated. "The Englishman is a nuisance of the first order."

Gavin felt oddly triumphant that Aidan didn't like Trevor. But he had to point out, "Rory seems to like the Sassenach."

Aidan gave him an analytical look as if he were sizing up Gavin. "Are you planning to let Rory decide who Jamie's with?"

"He's your brother. Aren't you on his side?"

"Not when Rory's being an eejit." Aidan plucked up a chip and consumed it swiftly. "Don't let it fash you. Emery will sort him out."

Emery. That woman had her nose deep in Gavin's business, but he couldn't muster any resentment about it. He liked Emery. Everyone did. Hard to dislike the only woman — the only person, period — who'd been able to reform the ogre of Dùndubhan. Rory may have lightened up a lot, but he still glared at Gavin at every opportunity.

Iain paused with a chip in his fingers, hovering it between his open lips. He wagged the chip at Aidan. "See what I mean? The tough-as-nails ex-Marine is afraid of Rory. It's terribly sad, isn't it?"

Aidan nodded with mock solemnity. "A shame to see a strong man crumble."

Gavin squashed his lips together and huffed a breath out his nostrils. "I am not crumbling, and I am not afraid of Rory. No way, no how."

"All right," Aidan said. "Go talk to him, then."

The food in Gavin's belly mutated into cold rocks. Not because he feared Rory, but because he feared the result of a confrontation with the man. If they couldn't work out their differences, Jamie would wind up hurt even worse than she was already.

Iain tapped a finger on the chip in his grasp. "Gavin's afraid of Rory, for certain, and he lets Jamie order him around like a slave."

"Very sad," Aidan concurred.

Gavin snatched up a chip and started ripping it up, the pieces fluttering down into the box. "What am I supposed to do? She doesn't want to talk to me about anything serious. She wants — well, it doesn't matter. We can't have a conversation because she won't listen."

Aidan scoffed. "If I'd given up because Calli told me to leave off, I wouldn't be married to her today."

"Why are you giving me advice? Jamie's your sister."

"And I should dislike you because of that?" Aidan chuckled. "I met you before you got involved with Jamie. I know you're not the bod ceann you're acting like these days. Besides, my wife is your sister. Calli wouldn't like it if I declared war on her brother, now would she? You are Calli's hero, which means I have to be nice to you even if I think ye need a good skiting with a caber."

Calli's hero? Jesus, that was a pedestal he'd fallen off of years ago, when he'd left his baby sister to deal with the consequences of their parents' deaths.

Gavin tore off a chunk of fish and chomped it to mush in his mouth. At least Aidan didn't think he was a bod ceann . That seemed like a good start to their… friendship, he supposed he'd call it. No matter what Emery said, he would not refer to this as a bromance.

One task remained for him to complete with Aidan. He got heartburn thinking about it, but the time had come to bite that bullet, even if it cracked his teeth. He set down his box of food and cleared his throat. "Aidan, I need to say something."

The other man paused with a chip raised halfway to his mouth.

"If it weren't for you," Gavin said, "Calli might still be hiding out in the woods afraid of getting arrested. You've been good for her and good to her. Thanks for that."

Aidan popped the chip into his mouth and ate it before saying, "She's done the same for me. No thanks necessary."

Gavin's phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw a new text message — from Jamie.

Excitement zipped through him as he read the message. My place @ 8 , it said. Her place? That meant the castle owned by her brother.

Another message popped up. Rory and Emery left for Skye .

Every hair on his body sprang to attention. He'd have Jamie all to himself. Maybe he could convince her to give up this stupid sex-only plan. Maybe he could explain… what? The things he didn't understand himself?

He had to start somewhere. She'd invited him over, and he had to go.

See you then , he typed with one finger.

Jamie replied with an emoji of a winking smiley face.

Iain slapped Aidan's arm. "See how he types with one finger? This laddie's a closet Luddite, I think."

"Aye," Aidan agreed with mock gravitas.

Gavin huffed, shoving the phone back in his pocket. "I'm not a Luddite. My thumbs are too big to type with them on that midget keyboard."

They finished their meal while discussing things unrelated to Gavin's relationship with Jamie. Iain kept ribbing Gavin about his phone-typing style, and Aidan invented numerous and creative terms for it, some of them in Gaelic. When guys razzed each other, it meant they'd become buddies.

Task number one, scratched off the list. He'd made peace with Aidan.

Next up, Lachlan.

Piece of cake — not.

After lunch, Gavin and Iain were collecting some gear from Aidan's truck when Rory's Mercedes rolled up the drive with Jamie behind the wheel. She parked alongside the truck and climbed out. Jamie waved a file folder in the air until she caught Aidan's attention.

He strode over from where he'd been discussing things with the landowner. "What is it, Jamie? Thought you went home."

"I did, but this contract came in by email." She handed him the folder. "Thought you should see it right away."

He arched one brow but flipped open the folder. His brows began to furrow as he read the contents. "This could've waited until tomorrow. You didn't need to come all the way out here again."

She rolled her shoulders back, chin up. "Thought you should have it for the morning."

Aidan glanced at Gavin. "Suppose you're right. It was urgent for you to come out here twice in one day."

Jamie punched his shoulder. "Don't be sarcastic with me, Aidan. I was being helpful."

"Why are you checking company emails, anyway? You're on holiday, and Calli's handling everything."

She snagged the inside of her lip with her teeth.

Gavin tried not to smile. Jamie had made up a silly excuse to come back and see him. It was so cute and sweet he wanted to pull her into a bear hug.

"Cannae fool us," Iain said to Jamie. "We all know the real reason you're here, and he's standing right beside me."

Jamie's cheeks turned pink. "Maybe I did want to speak to Gavin. It's none of your business, Iain. Or yours, Aidan."

Her brother and her cousin both smirked.

She flapped her hands at them. "Go away, you dumb galoots."

Iain clapped a hand on Aidan's shoulder, and both men headed off in the direction of the mostly demolished stone wall.

Jamie retreated behind the car, using the Mercedes as a barricade between her and Gavin.

He stalked around the car, coming up behind her.

She spun around and plastered her backside to the driver's door.

Nothing but sex? Sure, he believed that. The way she tried to keep a physical distance between them, in addition to the emotional distance, contradicted her claim. He couldn't resist taking advantage of the opening she'd accidentally given him.

Gavin edged closer and hit her with a suggestive smile. "Hey, babe, what can I do ya for? Or should I say, how long can I do ya for?"