Kaitlyn and the Highlander Read online

  He solemnly shook his head. “Twas nae your fault at all.”

  “Thank you, but I find myself in this position so often… There must be something really wrong with me. Like I'm broken or something…”

  His brow drew down. “You art a braw lass and mighty capable, tis nocht wrong with ye. Ye are Mistress Kaitlyn of the North Winds.” The corner of his mouth went up in a smile. “I found your description of Master Cook tae be a fine use of language.”

  “Well act like a rooster, I call you a rooster.”

  I looked up at him, standing in the space between my car and my door. I just met him, yet he was the only one still around. “How are you going to get your car home?”

  He looked over his arm at his new car sitting under a light post. “Tis been many a year since I owned a horse I couldna ride.”

  I dropped my head on the seat back. I did really want to get home to sitting around, watching tv, and feeling sorry for myself. But there wasn't anyone in that restaurant that could help Magnus get his car home without killing themselves. It was up to me. “What if I called Zach, got him to come with Emma. He could drive your car home for you?”

  “Aye, t'would be a gracious favor.”

  * * *

  I texted Hayley: Need Zach's phone number, for Magnus.

  * * *

  She texted back: Girlfriend, that sucked. I'm going to kill Michael. I'm so sorry James was an ass.

  * * *

  No worries. It's good to know he's the same guy. Kind of comforting actually. He's consistent.

  * * *

  Will you come tomorrow, kickball?

  * * *

  Doubt it. Need some time to get my head together.

  * * *

  Okay, not too long though.

  * * *

  She gave me Zach's number. I called and arranged for him to catch a ride to the restaurant and drive Magnus's car back. I hung up and dropped the phone in my lap. “They're on their way.”

  “Thank ye Mistress Kaitlyn.”

  “You're welcome.” He gently closed the door, kept his hands there for a second longer and then returned to his car.

  I started mine and pulled out of the parking lot, looking back over my shoulder. Magnus had returned to the backseat of his car, facing the restaurant. Inside, the crowded dining room was noisy, bright, and hectic. He was dark, in a pool of light, watching as I drove away.

  Nine

  That night I ate a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's Americone Dream while I watched episodes of The Walking Dead. I was wrapped in a blanket because mom kept the AC on 68 degrees and it was frigid, but truth be told I needed the blanket because the show was getting all dramatic, zombie gore and mayhem, plus ice cream.

  Mom came into the room at one point. “How was your date with James?”

  Dad followed her and disappeared into the kitchen.

  I paused the show at the exact moment a zombie was ripping cheek skin off one of the regular characters. A gruesome freeze frame. “Not good. He was late. The ladies at the strip club kept him longer than usual.”

  Mom clucked. “Well he's a good catch, just tell him what your rules are, and make him stick to them.”

  Dad added, while looking through the freezer, probably for the ice cream I just finished off, “Men go to strip clubs.”

  “Gross Dad, do you go to strip clubs? Mom do you know Dad goes to strip clubs?”

  “I went to one back at John's bachelor party in 1999. Your mom knows.”

  I said, “Exactly, a bachelor party. Not on a Saturday when your date is waiting for you at a restaurant. Me and James are done.”

  Mom said, “Well, I'm sorry to hear that. First Braden, now this. What are you going to do?”

  I huffed. “What do you mean what am I going to do? I'm going to be a grown-ass woman with a fabulous life, a good career, and whatevs — maybe I'll become a lesbian.”

  Mom looked shocked which was entirely my point. “I'm not sure that's a good idea. And also, my point is, from here, you don't have a fab life, a career or even seem much like a grownup, so maybe you need to work towards one of those goals.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I'll get right on it.” I shoved my spoon into the pint carton.

  “I can help you if you want to get your real estate license.”

  “Yes, I know, but mom it was a really hard day, can I go back to the tv?

  Ten

  I slept like a stone and woke up early and groggy-headed. I was shuffling around the kitchen in boxers and a T-shirt, scratching and smacking, and hoping for some Nutella to magically appear, when my phone notified me of a text.

  I glanced down and from Zach's phone the message said:

  * * *

  Aye MahgnusCambel

  * * *

  I laughed to myself. Jeez, was he illiterate too?

  * * *

  I texted back: Hi.

  * * *

  He texted: MistresKatlin

  * * *

  This is Kaitlyn. What can I do for you MahgnusCambel?

  * * *

  I couldn't help smiling at the thought of him holding Zach's tiny iPhone in a hand built for sword fighting, learning to text on it.

  The dots appeared and stayed there and stayed there and stayed there. So I decided to help a man out and FaceTime him. The phone dialed and he answered, the camera aimed at the ceiling. The phone jiggled, the camera swept around, aiming at everything but his face.

  I said, “Magnus?

  “Och, nae!” He dropped the phone with a cracking noise.

  “Magnus? It's me, Katie. Just pick up the phone. Look down on it.”

  I heard more muffled exclamations and carrying on. Then the phone jiggled up, dizzily swept around, and I was looking up at his face from very far below. He must have put the phone on the bed or something and was now looking down on it. Zach was laughing in the background.

  “Magnus, did you break the phone?”

  “Aye, there is a spiderweb upon it. You gave my heart a scare when your voice came from the inside.”

  “Tell Zach you'll buy him a new one.”

  “Aye, tis much the worse than when he lent it tae me.”

  “Why are you calling?”

  “James Cook has invited me tae the games this day. I hoped ye would come. You might drive my Mustang, if ye are pleased tae.” Zach cracked up in the background. Magnus's face turned to speak to someone off screen. “Did I ask it well?”

  A voice I assumed was Emma, Zach's girlfriend, said, “Totally.”

  I said, “I kind of thought I would stay home.”

  “Nae one else can attend. I would verra much like tae go.”

  I sighed. The hawt Scot needed a chauffeur. I ought to tell Hayley to add it to his list of employees, but would I be okay with him not needing me at all?” I said, “Okay, I'll be there at 2:30.”

  Eleven

  Magnus was waiting beside his car wearing his white loose shirt untied at the neck, his kilt, and leather boots. His very long sword was strapped on his back and his long knife was slung at his hip He handed me the keys, laying the sword across the back seats, and climbed into the passenger seat. It took a moment, but I figured out how to put the top down. Once I pulled the car onto the road toward town I sped it up to 45 mph.

  “Tis a great many horses,” said Magnus as he clamped his eyes shut. I opened it up to 50 mph, just for fun. But his death grip on his knees made me rethink, and I dropped it down to 35 mph. It was an excellent car. A lot more power than my Prius. I hadn't thought I liked power, but yes, I did, and it was beautiful inside, leather and wood, very luxurious.

  Even though I was going slower, he kept his eyes tightly closed. “You still haven't gotten used to riding?”

  “Nae, I hae grown used tae the blaring lights and clamorous sounds, but traveling with this speed and roar I canna get comfortable with. The rush seems verra foolhardy. Master Peters explained twas quite safe, but did ye know tis combusting? There is a fire below us, we canna see?”
>
  As the car entered a roundabout at 12 mph he held on to the dash and the door.

  “Master Peters? Oh, that's right, Quentin.”

  “Aye, he's a good man, knowledgable about armaments and fortresses.”

  “I suppose so, he was in the military.” I kept the car at about 25 mph. “You ride a horse though? That's fast right?”

  “Aye, but I understand my horse. It has a spirit I can tame, tis under my control.”

  “You'll probably like this car once you learn to drive it.”

  “Will ye shew me?”

  “Me?” I chuckled. “I think James would disagree. He thinks I'm a terrible driver.”

  “Master Cook may be in considerable error about a great many things.”

  We pulled up in front of the park. There were about eighteen people sitting on coolers, blankets, and in beach chairs. James was already standing in front of the group, commanding the audience. When I walked up he held out a fist to bump mine. “Friends?”

  I smiled. “Yep, friends.”

  He asked, “Occasionally more if you get drunk enough?”

  “Jeez, you're incorrigible.”

  “Don't know what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment.”

  James turned his focus to Magnus. “Magnus Campbell, you wore a skirt!”

  Magnus lifted it enough to expose his knees with a laugh. “A wise man wants movement when performing feats of strength.”

  “Not really feats of strength, we'll be chasing this rubber ball around.”

  Magnus joked, “A wee ball is enough to impress your women?”

  “Our women play too. How do you do it in Scotland?”

  “We duel.” He unsheathed his sword and allowed it to glint in the sun. “We toss caber and stone. Play our pipes. Tis quite manly.”

  “Well have you ever played kickball before?”

  “Nae.”

  “It's a lot like baseball. It's a bit like soccer, or football, as you call it. But different rules and you can use your hands.”

  Magnus looked confused.

  James asked, “Like football?”

  “Ah, I hae never played.”

  So James went through the rules of kickball. Then we divided up into teams. Magnus and I ended up on James's.

  We had been gathering for kickball once a month in the summer since we were all about fifteen years old. Once we were old enough to find someone to buy alcohol, the game included beer drinking. And once we were able to afford eating out, we would head to the Turtle for appetizers after. It was tradition and yet, many of the faces we're new. I supposed that was good news, it meant the tradition would carry on.

  Magnus and I sat beside each other on the grass. I explained rules in the beginning, but it only took him about five minutes to get the gist. And first try he was very good. When it was his turn to kick, he flew around the bases. When he was in the field, he had such a good arm on him, that by the second inning James put him on first base.

  The first time I kicked I made it to third and with the next kicker speedily made it home for our team's second run. Magnus and James were both watching me appreciatively. Magnus especially. I had picked a great outfit, short shorts and a crop top, specifically for a little jealousy on James part, but had grown used to believing that Magnus considered me the hired help. Un-hired help, basically his chauffeur.

  But I definitely saw his eyes follow me around the bases. That was awesome.

  Because when he raced around the bases my eyes definitely followed him. He moved smooth, sure, like an athlete, someone who was used to moving, walking, running. He was laughing, joking, clapping people on the back, and fitting in, light-spirited. But then I glanced down at the sword beside me, big, heavy, menacing. It was hard to jibe the two.

  James dropped beside me in the grass and watching Magnus run said, “So you like the Scotsman, huh? I see how it is.”

  “Don't go fooling yourself that he's why we're not together. That was all you.”

  “Yeah, I get it. But still, you're eyeing him like he's a prize, and as your friend —”

  “Friend advice already? Because I'm not, eyeing him.” I glanced up to see what he was doing, talking to Hayley. Yep, I was eyeing him.

  James followed my gaze and joked, “Okay, you aren't. But still, if you decide to, be careful. I mean, he's a great guy, we all like him. He's a riot to hang out with. But I'm worried for your sake, that he's not what he seems. There's something off about him. He doesn't even know soccer. At all. You can't be from the UK and not know soccer. So who is he, and what's he hiding? That's all I'm saying. Be careful.”

  “Finished?”

  “Yep I'm finished, and here he comes anyway.”

  Magnus walked over and collapsed on the grass beside me. “Master Cook, tis a great game.”

  “You've got a knack for it, you sure you've never played it before? But you've definitely played soccer right?”

  Magnus shook his head. “I canna say I hae played it, but I would try it some—”

  A great big whirling wind, a building cloud, and a giant storm grew right above us, just over the park. It was suddenly loud, yet we hadn't noticed it advance. It covered the sun. The kickball field was beside a large marsh and lightning struck a tree just on the edge of it, not sixty feet from where we were standing.

  James yelled, “Go, go, go to the cars!”

  Someone screamed because of the bolts, the energy, the darkness, everyone was racing to their cars. I grabbed my purse as I ran by, another bolt of lighting arcing through the sky just behind. I broke stride gaping at it.

  The cars around us were a flurry of activity as everyone yanked open doors and piled in on top of each other, lights on. Passengers huddled inside, sitting on laps, crammed in. Magnus shoved me from behind. “Get to the car, Kaitlyn, the car!” I raced for it, skidded around the back, yanked the door open, jumped in, and shoved the key in the ignition. I pressed the button to raise the roof. “Come on, come on!”

  I looked back for Magnus. He was standing, surrounded by upended coolers and tossed over chairs, staring up at the storm.

  It was as if he was searching the storm cloud. Grey sky, blackened clouds, howling wind, electric arcs of light and thunderous booms, and Magnus, his hand on the hilt of his sword, peering up, as if about to fight the darkness.

  He stood amidst the lightning arcs, his hair and shirt and kilt whipping as he bent against the wind, the cloud built higher into the sky like a wall.

  Magnus, turned, running sideways, hand still on his hilt, looking back over his shoulder, racing to the car. He tore open the door, unsheathed his sword, dropped into the seat, and slammed it closed.

  I asked, “What was that storm, that was crazy, did you see something?”

  He peered out the window, looking up at the sky. “Perchance I saw — something — but nae,” he shook his head, “tis only a storm.”

  He pushed his sword into the seat behind him. “But did ye feel any difference in it?”

  It had been a weird storm, electric, loud, and it came up so fast. “Yes, it wasn't normal, there's no rain. And it was so sudden.”

  My phone startled me with a vibration.

  * * *

  Hayley texted: OMG What the hell was that crazy storm?

  * * *

  I looked over at James's truck. She was huddled on Micheal's lap.

  * * *

  James texted a group of us: We're just going to sit here until it passes, that was insane. Hold your seats, no one get out of the cars. Katie tell Magnus sword fighting it won't help.

  * * *

  Hayley again: Tell Magnus he's going to get struck standing in a storm like that.

  * * *

  I said, “James and Hayley want you to know that standing in a storm is dangerous.”

  “Aye, tell them I know much the danger of a storm.” He continued staring up at the sky. “This storm is more dangerous than most, tis a warning.”

  “Like an omen?”

&nb
sp; “Aye.” He peered out through the back window. “The storm is beginning tae abate.” The clouds rolled up on themselves, smaller and smaller until they disappeared as quickly as they came.

  Magnus opened the door, stood outside of the car, watching the sky, then returned to his seat. “Tis gone, yet I would rather nae remain. Might ye drive me home, Mistress Kaitlyn?”

  * * *

  I texted the group: Well, the storm is gone. But we're not going to make it to the Turtle tonight. I'm going to drive Magnus home.

  Twelve

  I pulled the car into the garage right beside the newly contrived pen with a horse standing in it.

  Magnus said, “Pray, come inside, Mistress Kaitlyn, I am still uncertain tis safe and I would like tae consult my men.”

  “I don't know, I haven't had a full day of feeling sorry for myself yet.”

  “I owe ye a dinner.”

  “True.”

  As I climbed the steps to his front door, Magnus was just behind, hand on the smaller knife at his waist, turning to look down the steps, watching that we weren't followed.

  When Magnus crossed the threshold to the house, he announced, “Lights out.” Behind me he locked the door. Zach had been bent over a baking sheet, but stopped, mid-movement, wiped his hands on his apron, reached over and turned off the music. Then the kitchen lights. The house was full of the rich smells of steamed tomatoes and what was that, capers? Anchovies? I inhaled. It smelled of puttanesca, my favorite. Zach and Emma both dropped down between the counter and the island in the shadow of the afternoon.