A Highlander in a Pickup

by Laura Trentham

  Loretta’s eyes narrowed as they seemed to search for chinks in her armor. Usually, Anna met fire with fire, but the chills racking her body were not helping her confidence.

  “I filed first thing this morning.” There was no mistaking the statement as anything other than a challenge. It was the first day the city offices accepted intent to run forms from mayoral candidates.

  “Good for you,” Anna said blandly, unable to muster even a spark of enthusiasm. She wasn’t surprised, of course. Loretta had been salivating for a run at Highland’s mayor even before Dr. Jameson won. She had been biding her time, ready to pounce on the opportunity. What Loretta hadn’t counted on was Anna wanting it too.

  Anna wasn’t a power junkie. She genuinely loved Highland, which was ironic considering she’d escaped as soon as possible after graduation, but after things hadn’t worked out in New York, Highland had welcomed her home and lifted her up. She was proud of her little town and wanted it to thrive and grow.

  Anna didn’t doubt that Loretta loved Highland too. It was their visions that clashed. Anna wanted to press forward with plans to expand the summer festival into a Highland Christmas celebration. She had an entire digital folder full of ideas she could sell to the city council if she was elected. Loretta, on the other hand, was content with the way things were and wanted them to stay that way. While familiarity might breed contempt, it also provided comfort.

  “I figured you’d be waiting for them to unlock the front door. Have you changed your mind?” Loretta asked with a leading edge.

  “I haven’t actually. In case you weren’t aware, I’ve been rather busy planning the festival.”

  “How is the festival coming along? Will it suffer without Rose and Izzy’s leadership?”

  “I’ve got things well in hand, thank you very much.” Anna cleared her throat, then winced at the pain.

  “By the way, I expect my usual booth. I hope the Buchanans left you with a detailed setup.”

  “They did, but things will be shifted around a bit because of the husbandry display and competition.”

  Loretta wrinkled her nose. “I hope the smell doesn’t put people off from spending their money on food.”

  “Change is invigorating and offers opportunities for better things.” God, she sounded like a motivational poster.

  “Not every change is positive. That’s a lesson only age and wisdom will impart. The voters will understand.”

  Anna harrumphed. “I would make—will make—an excellent mayor.”

  “I’m sure you will. In twenty years. For now, you should allow more seasoned adults to make decisions that will impact every resident of Highland for years to come. No one wants to see their taxes increase. That’s a fact.”

  Anna tucked her hair behind her ear, wanting to close the window and her eyes against Loretta and the outside world. She didn’t, of course.

  “But a penny tax would—”

  “No one wants a tax increase, girl, and that’s that.” Loretta’s voice had risen and attracted the curious glances from the tourists walking along the sidewalk. Her gaze pinned Anna to the seat like mounting a butterfly.

  Would it warrant a Sunday sermon if she told Loretta to go to hell? Politely, of course. Before Anna could weigh the pros and cons, a deep voice broke their stare down.

  “You all right, Anna?” Iain placed a hand on the open window frame and angled himself to face Loretta.

  “Did you get them?” Anna’s only thought was getting the miracle of antibiotics into her system.

  Iain held up the pharmacy bag, shook it, and waggled his eyebrows. Loretta took a step backward, her eyes huge and darting between them. Anna could practically see the hamster wheel spinning in her head. Oh God, what did Loretta think was in the bag? Lube and condoms?

  Anna tried to work up some embarrassment, but all she wanted to do was laugh. She only stopped herself because it would hurt her throat.

  “How is the door, Ms. Loretta? If it’s sticking, I can adjust it,” Iain said.

  “It’s perfect. Have you thought any more about taking on more work?” She smoothed the graying hair at her neck and favored Iain with a coquettish smile that charmed the American Legion bunch.

  “I’ve been busy, but I’ll let you know if I have time. If you’ll excuse us, we have things that can’t wait another minute.” Once more Iain shook the pharmacy bag.

  Loretta quickstepped to stand in the door of her shop and watched until they drove off. Anna retrieved the medicine and the bottle of iced tea Iain had kindly provided, popped a pill, and forced it down.

  Then, she laughed weakly before grabbing her throat. “You know she thinks we’re going to boink like rabbits. In the light of day, no less. The scandal.”

  He brake-checked and shot an incredulous glance over at her. “What in blazes are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you and your cute little eyebrow waggle as you shook the bag and informed her we had things to do that couldn’t wait.”

  “Getting you feeling better can’t wait.”

  “My guess is Loretta thinks you can’t wait to rip my clothes off and take wild advantage of me.” The antibiotics couldn’t be working yet. Nevertheless, she felt lighter. Hope was a powerful drug.

  “Would it be taking wild advantage of you?” He raised a single eyebrow and shot her another look.

  A look that could only be interpreted as evocative. But evocative of what? Did he want to take wild advantage of her? Not that any overture he made would be taking advantage of her. If anything of that ilk occurred, it would be mutual. More than mutual. In fact, she might be the one taking wild advantage of him. Every spare moment, her brain revisited the incident in the barn. The question of what was under his kilt warranted further investigation.

  Unfortunately, the sounds coming out of her mouth did not emerge as words. She was speechless. It might be a first. He didn’t backtrack or make excuses for his leading question, he merely drove on, waiting and silent.

  Their arrival at Stonehaven broke the deadlock. She swayed out front, unsure. Her car was there, so she could drive herself home and curl up in her own bed. But work awaited her in the office. Maybe she could close her eyes for a few minutes on the couch and then make some calls.

  Iain put a hand on her lower back and guided her up the steps and inside the house. “You’re going to lay down in one of the spare rooms upstairs.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have classes to teach.” She swayed on her feet.

  “Not only are you physically unable to teach, you are also contagious. You must cancel.” He spoke gently but firmly. “Tell me what to do.”

  She wanted to argue, but he was right. She walked Iain through how to post the cancellation on social media and send a mass email to her students and their parents. “I’ve got to get the map done too.”

  “What map?”

  “The festival grounds. It has to go to the printer today.” She only made it one step toward the office before he had her shoulders.

  “I’m fully capable of handling the map and anything else that comes up. I’ll let you approve the changes before I send it.” His face went in and out of focus with each of her blinks. Did she have a choice?

  While she rested on the couch, he had the map done faster than she could have. After getting her okay, he emailed it, then guided her up the stairs.

  “I should go home. You have work to do, and I’m imposing.”

  “No, you’ll be making things easier on me. If you went back to your flat, then I would have to leave Stonehaven and my work to periodically deliver soup and make sure you’re taking your medicine. Here, I only have to walk up the stairs. It would be very selfish of you to insist on going home.”

  His reasoning was weak at best. She was an adult who could take care of herself. After all, she’d been doing it for years and years and years.

  And yet … and yet, warm fuzzy feelings wrapped her like a favorite blank
et. “Okay.”

  “Really?” His surprise made a laugh sneak out of her.

  “Am I that tough of a nut?” Now that the decision had been made, she couldn’t crawl into bed fast enough. “By the way, what is your favorite nut?”

  Anna made for Izzy’s old room. It had been cleared of most of her personal items. Only the ghost of her friend remained. A ghost was better than nothing.

  “I’m partial to walnuts in my Christmas pudding.”

  Anna burrowed under the covers and made a gagging sound. “That sounds gross.”

  “It’s delicious.”

  “Have you had a pecan pie? I’ll make you one. I bet I could make pecans your favorite nut.” She sighed and closed her eyes, sleep claiming her like a curtain slowly falling on a stage.

  Somewhere near or maybe far, she swore she heard him say, “I’ve changed my mind. You’re my favorite nut,” before she fell asleep.

  By the afternoon, her fever had dropped enough to make her aware of her gross hair and stickiness. She staggered into the bathroom, stepped under a warm spray, and scrubbed the fever sweats away. Izzy had left an assortment of shampoos and conditioners, and she took her time cleaning up.

  After she dried off, she borrowed a T-shirt and yoga pants from Izzy’s dresser and climbed back in bed, exhausted. Had she even slept this much as a baby? According to her mom, Anna never slept and had tortured her mom all night as an infant. Forever a disappointment.

  She was dimly aware of Iain checking on her and making her take aspirin and antibiotics with glassfuls of water. As the sun touched the line of trees outside, he reappeared with one of Rose’s flowery aprons tied around his waist.

  She laughed. Her throat twinged like all the broken glass had been glued back together. Sore, but manageable. “Cute look.”

  He fumbled with the apron ties. “I forgot I still had it on. Dinner is ready if you’ve got an appetite.”

  Her stomach rumbled to life at his offer. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Beef stew. I should warn you, I’m rubbish in the kitchen.”

  She swung her feet over the side of the bed and waited until her head stopped swimming to stand. While she wouldn’t be dancing any jigs, she felt stronger than she had that afternoon. “Anything sounds good as long as I don’t end up back at the doctor with food poisoning.”

  He hovered next to her, but didn’t take her arm or hand on the way down the stairs, the barrier that had been lowered while she was sick was back in place.

  He doled out two bowls of stew and pulled a crusty, store-bought loaf of bread out of the oven, setting everything on the kitchen table. The two places he’d set were next to each other, and she slid into the nearest chair.

  She inhaled the rich aroma of beef and broth and red wine. “It smells divine. If this is your idea of rubbish, I’d be perfectly content eating out of your trash can.”

  He froze with a spoonful halfway to his mouth to laugh and shake his head. “You make me laugh.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment and not that I’m a joke.” She smiled to take any sting out of her tease and ate her first bite of his stew, heaping compliments on him.

  They made small talk between bites. She sopped up the dregs with a hunk of bread and might have licked the bowl if he hadn’t been there. He doled out her next dose of medicine and she meekly took the pills.

  “Do you want to go back to bed?” he asked.

  It had been months since she’d shared dinner with anyone. It was … nice, and she didn’t want to go back to bed. Alone. “How about I introduce to the brain-rotting pleasure of American TV?”

  Even though she knew he had work waiting in the barn, he nodded. “You get the telly on while I feed the beasties.”

  By the time he returned, smelling of sunshine and hay, she had one of her favorite sitcoms cued up and was cuddled under a multicolored afghan. His rusty laugh was gratifying. By the second episode, she’d stretched out on the couch, her eyes heavy. His hand covered her foot, his thumb rubbing circles on the arch.

  The homey comfortableness of the moment was foreign. Tension flowed out of her and left her in a dreamy state. She wanted to stay awake, but couldn’t. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, being carried up the stairs and tucked into bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  With the antibiotics kicking bacteria butt in her body, Anna spent the next two days playing catch-up. She had so many balls in the air, she could have joined the circus. Actually, some days she felt like she was in a circus. Or in a farce. Or maybe in a tragedy. She wasn’t sure how the story would end.

  The festival was one piece. Then there was her bid for mayor, the worrisome situation with Gabby hanging like a dark cloud over her, and last but far from least, Iain. He was her biggest worry of all, because she felt in danger from him in a multitude of ways.

  Iain had shattered the label of “domineering male” she’d assigned him early on. He was in turns intimidating, gruff, steady, helpful, and sweet. His complicated nature was fascinating to her. Were all men more complicated than Anna had given them credit for?

  She pondered the theory a few minutes, but dismissed it. Had to. Because if she went all the way back in her history and applied the theory to patient zero, her father, then assumptions she’d built her life on would rot and collapse. Her father was a “selfish deserter.” It was simple. Maybe she just hadn’t found the appropriate label she could slap on Iain.

  Anna opened the studio and went about getting ready for the morning’s classes. The toddler class was its usual brand of chaos and hilarity. After the little gremlins had all been handed off to their parents and caregivers, she changed the music and performed more serious stretches. Her high school girls were next, and as she wouldn’t be competing for first place in the dancing, she wanted one of her girls to take the ribbon.

  Keisha was the first through the door. She excelled at all forms of dancing, but had focused on Celtic dancing the past six months. The raw, modern energy she brought to the traditional dances was infectious. Anna wasn’t sure how the judges would react, but the crowd would eat it up.

  “Hey, Keisha. Listen, I called Gabby, but she wasn’t exactly Miss Sunshine. Maybe she really is sick.” Anna noted the girl’s unusual seriousness.

  Keisha gave a snort. “You really think that?”

  “No, but my only other option is to talk to her dad. And he’s scary. You know if he could, he’d ban dancing across the county à la Footloose.”

  Keisha barked a laugh. “You and me would lead the dance revolution, wouldn’t we?”

  Anna held up her hand for a high five. “Hell yes, we would.”

  Keisha slapped her hand and backed away as other girls streamed through the door and began stretching. “You better watch the potty mouth when you go talk to her dad, though, for reals.”

  Anna laughed and clapped her hands to get the class’s attention. The hour and a half sped by with the impending performance at the festival looming. When practice was over, Anna fit the remaining costumes on the girls, then retreated to her postage-stamp-sized office as the chatter faded through the doors.

  Now that Anna was alone, she opened the top desk drawer and pulled out the completed form declaring her candidacy for Highland mayor. It was time to turn it in. The paper trembled in her fingers. The point of no return. Would Anna be taken seriously or laughed out of city hall? Would anyone vote for her with Loretta running too?

  After doing a quick change into streetwear, she was on the sidewalk in the sweltering noonday sun. The Highland city offices were located at the far end of Main Street in an old, white-columned house surrounded by blooming crepe myrtle trees. It was picture-postcard perfect.

  She passed the Brown Cow, but didn’t stop for her usual pick-me-up coffee. Caffeine would make her nervous jitters even worse. The jangle of the door sounded behind her, but she stayed focused on her destination. Iain fell into step next to her, his khaki utility kilt swinging over mud-spattered work boot
s.

  “May I beg a word, Anna?” His voice was oddly formal considering their recent interactions had consisted of him playing nursemaid and binge-watching TV together.

  “Cattywampus.”

  His mouth opened then closed, and he blinked at her before shaking his head. “Pardon?”

  “You begged for a word, and I gave you a word. It means ‘off-kilter.’”

  “Cattywampus.” Said with his burr, the word took on a new life. “I like it. The Scottish have a multitude of funny words.”

  “Like what?” The city offices grew closer with every step, and she was pathetically grateful to have Iain as a distraction.

  “Bahoochie.”

  A smile tipped her lips despite her nerves. “Can you use it in a sentence?”

  “‘Get yer bahoochie out the bed, laddie!’ I heard that one almost every morning from my da.”

  “Your backside?”

  “Exactly.” His smile was nostalgic and full of love for a person and place that seemed long gone, but she knew still existed.

  The brick storefronts of downtown ended with a line of trees, signaling the start of old houses that had mostly been converted into doctors’ offices or law firms with family homes peppered in between. As Highland grew, Anna anticipated most of the private homes would slowly be converted into business spaces, although some of the old guard of Highland opposed the idea of losing any more homes along the thoroughfare.

  It was sad to think of the family history mortared between bricks and hammered in the planks being lost to the bustle of progress, but the change would bring revenue which could be reinvested in Highland’s current citizens. Anna envisioned a special loan program for new businesses or the town could even host a competition to award funds to the most promising start-ups.

  “Where are we going?” Iain asked.

  “City offices.” She pointed toward the wooden sign hanging in the front of the house. “I need to turn a form in.”

  “Has it got something to do with the festival?” He peered toward the paper she held, and instead of acting casual, she whipped it behind her back as if he were trying to cheat off her.