Simply Austin

by Gina Robinson

  "Oh," I said. "I hadn't realized."

  She nodded. "Most laypeople don't."

  Sam looped her arm through mine and led the way into the trailer. "It's usually not this bad. But Elinor has been singing in the latest shoot. I have to take extra care."

  "I hope I don't have to do any singing." I shuddered.

  She laughed. The assistant who'd driven us stepped past and opened the door for us. "Welcome to where I spend the better part of my mornings." Sam took a seat and introduced us to the team, and then filled me in on the latest gossip. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Connor and his girlfriend, the one you covered for him for at Comicon, have called it quits. At least for now."

  "So the rumors are true?" I said.

  "This time, yes," she said. "Though I wouldn't make a habit of believing what you hear about us. I hope you aren't upset?"

  "Why would I be upset? I'm sorry for Connor, of course. But I got Austin out of the deal, and this great promo gig. I have nothing to complain about."

  Sam nodded. "Well, that's big of you, all the same. Just don't mention it to Connor. His heart is still bruised."

  "No, of course not."

  "And if you'd warn Austin?"

  "Absolutely." I nodded, feeling sorry for Connor. Dealing with heartbreak in private was hard enough. A public breakup would be a nightmare, even if it was popular among fans.

  We spent several hours in hair and makeup. I had no idea what they were doing with Austin all that time. Tousle his curls, powder his nose, and he was out the door. I heard someone mention pumping up to him, and assumed he was off to work out and get those fabulous muscles of his ready to show off in prime time.

  Elinor's "everyday" look was much more elegant than any hairstyle I'd ever worn in my real life. It took every bit as long to do my hair as it had for Comicon and my promo tour, and required the talents of two hairdressers who divided their time between Sam and me.

  You know that look that appears like you're not wearing much makeup at all? That took more time than one would imagine. Though I had to say that when I was done, I looked like a more beautiful "natural" version of myself. And a whole lot more like Sam playing Elinor than I ever had. But enough different, of course, that it would be obvious to viewers of the promo that I wasn't her.

  We took a side-by-side selfie.

  "First stop in our joint promo—my Facebook page and Twitter account!" Sam said.

  Going to wardrobe and seeing my costume for the first time was the most exciting part of all. Sam had an identical costume—an everyday lady's dress of the time period. Though quite an expensive one.

  "Elinor has the most expensive, and extensive, wardrobe of any Highland lady that existed," Sam whispered to me as wardrobe procured her corset and began dressing her. "And the most uncomfortable undergarments."

  Yeah, I hated those corsets. And, it turned out, the ones the Jamie wardrobe department made were just as diabolically constricting as Beth's.

  "Do you have any idea what we're filming today?" I whispered, following Sam's lead. "What the script is for the promo?"

  She shook her head as one of the assistant producers led us through the woods toward a beach with a camera crew in tow. "All I know is we're going to the lake."

  "And not being very stealthy about it," I said as we crashed through the woods.

  Maybe it was just me, but as the animals around us disappeared and got out of our way, I felt as if someone, or something, was watching us. Tracking us. It was hard to put my finger on.

  When I mentioned it to Sam, she shrugged it off. "Security. When we're on location, they follow at a discreet distance. But they're always there. We've had a few problems with overexuberant fans and the occasional stalker and nutter." She patted my arm. "If there were someone following us, security would take care of them. There's nothing to worry about."

  She pointed toward the lake. "It's the mystical aura of the area that's getting to you. But believe me, all the danger's in the loch. Look out for Nessie. If we're lucky, she'll make an appearance for us. Wouldn't that be a lovely promo piece?"

  She glanced behind us and waved into the camera. "Let's hope the lovely creature makes an appearance for us. I've yet to see her in all the time we've been filming. Clearly, we have the camera at the ready."

  She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "You're also no doubt being affected by the wild nature of the Highlands. And previous seasons of Jamie. You probably expect a redcoat to jump out of the bushes at us at any moment. Let's hope they haven't hired a few extras to do just that to give us a scare for the camera. Drama is the name of this game."

  Only semi-reassured by Sam, I tried to push the feeling of being stalked aside. What if there was a panther or something stalking us for prey? Did the Highlands have panthers? So much I didn't know.

  We were, of course, constantly being watched, and filmed, by the cameraman travelling with us. But that wasn't it. Whatever was following us was malevolent. No one else seemed to sense it or act concerned. Maybe I was imagining it.

  Suddenly, the assistant guiding us stopped and put his arm out to stop us, putting a finger to his lips.

  My heart stopped for a second, until I realized he wasn't at all concerned. His posture was relaxed.

  Now he goes stealth on us? With as much noise as we were making, the jig was pretty much up.

  We were shielded from the beach and lake by a stand of bushes and trees.

  "Shall we spy on them?" Sam whispered to me. She crouched behind the bushes and motioned me to do the same.

  So now I wasn't sure whether we were whispering whispering or just engaging in general conversational whispering. I nodded and whispered back, "Why not?"

  She pulled the bushes back. I peeked over her shoulder. The guys were on the beach, dressed in their Jamie kilts, no shirts or jackets. They had a fitness instructor with them. A slender, shirtless guy wearing loose yoga pants. The instructor was amazingly poised and graceful as he posed on the pebbly beach.

  "I thought they were pumping up to show off their muscles," I whispered to Sam. "Yoga without mats? That's hardcore." I squinted at the three. "Wait. Is that downward-facing dog?"

  Chapter 11

  Austin

  If someone would have told me when I went to Comicon dressed as Jamie that I'd eventually find myself on the shores of Loch Ness doing kilt yoga with Connor Reid and a yoga instructor named Angus, I would have laughed in their face. Angus had such a strong Scottish accent that it took all of my concentration to understand him. But here I was, not only doing kilt yoga, being filmed while doing it. And competing with Connor, who evidently had a yoga session with Angus nearly every morning. He had another advantage over me in this unspoken competition. Being a native Scot, Connor understood the accent without straining.

  Yeah, yeah. Very funny, show people. Sure. This is a hilarious promo piece. Make fun of me. Almost Jamie in every way, including being just a little, or just a lot, inferior at kilt yoga to the real McCoy. Hey, wait. McCoy, isn't that a Scottish name, too?

  Too bad you show marketing people didn't do your research. If you had, you'd know that my personal trainer, Stryker, is also a yoga master, and has been instructing me and helping me build strength in yoga for nearly a year.

  Stryker believes in total mind/body connections and flexibility as a key component in core strength and a toned, fighting mind. He is also a master at yoga strength moves. What Stryker couldn't teach the guys and me, he sent us to a pert, pretty yoga instructor friend of his for. That woman could twist herself into a pretzel and smile while doing it. I knew a few moves myself. After nearly a year with Stryker, I was no novice.

  Did any of this stop me from yanking the Jamie people's chain? Hell no.

  "Stick my butt in the air? You have to be kidding. I'm wearing a kilt." I put my hands on my hips and lifted one eyebrow.

  The patient Angus demonstrated the move by spreading his legs and bending forward, putting his palms on the pebbles of the beach
. "Your arse. We call it your arse here. And the breeze up your arse will do you good, mate."

  At least, that was what I thought he said. I needed an accent translator. Scottish to English. Someone could make a good living translating between the two. It was a good thing Angus provided visuals.

  I mimicked his pose, making sure not to imitate it too perfectly, pretending I wasn't nearly as flexible as I was. "What's this pose called?" I knew full well.

  "Downward-facing dog." Angus looked over at me, assessing my pose with a critical eye.

  It was clear he didn't like what he saw. The position my body was in was less an inverted V and more a bowed-back U. On purpose, of course. Angus got to his feet.

  "Ah." I nodded. "Appropriate for the dog days of summer."

  "And if this were a scene in the show," Connor said, "some randy bastard would come bugger you if you shoved your arse out like that. Fortunately, we're in no danger here, mate."

  Just at the moment, Angus grabbed me by the hips and pulled my butt up into the air, contorting me into the more perfect V shape.

  "Or are ye?" Connor said.

  I couldn't help it. I cracked up and fell out of the pose onto the rough pebbles of the beach, grabbing my sides. "Okay. I have to hand it to you two," I said between gasping for breaths and trying to stop laughing. "That was good timing."

  Connor winked at me and coolly stood up. "You can hold your whisky, mate, but not a simple yoga pose?"

  "On to the strength moves, lads," Angus said, playing the straight man and eyeing me. "Just do what ye can, Austin, aye? Try to keep up. Let's move on to the plank. You can do a plank?"

  "It doesna require your arse in the air," Connor said.

  "I know what a plank is," I said. "I can plank all day long."

  "Boasting, are ye?" Connor said. "You're becoming a true Scot fast."

  Which meant we engaged in a contest to see who could hold the plank longest. Each of us held the pose until our arms shook and sweat beaded on our foreheads. Finally, Angus had to call it a draw and move us on to the next move.

  Upward-facing plank. Chair pose. Boat pose—very good for the core and a prelude to more advanced moves. Angus led us through them in a calm voice, encouraging us to use our minds to center ourselves. I formed the yoga moves like a guy with core strength who didn't exactly know what he was doing. It was a good act. And a great power play. My job, at this point, was to make the star of the show look good. Until I didn't.

  The only real challenge with these moves was doing them on the rocky beach. This particular stretch of beach wasn't exactly sandy. Sand, of course, would have had a different set of problems, but at least it was soft. This beach had everything from pebbles to actual rocks. Some smooth, some not so smooth. Holding a pose in shifting, rough pebbles added difficulty points to the exercise. Which I believed was the point. Was using a mat for kilt yoga a move for wimps?

  "Verra good, lads." Angus tossed us each a towel to wipe our brows. He hadn't broken into a sweat yet. "So much for the warmup. Now on to the more challenging moves. Connor, you know how to do these on yer own. I'll help Austin and see if I can make something of him."

  Make something of me? I laughed inwardly. I had them now.

  "All right, lads. Shall we try the crow pose?" Angus sounded casual, but his eyes were full of challenge.

  The best description for the crow pose is that it's halfway to a handstand. Kind of like doing a handstand while holding a somersault ball, resting your knees on your triceps with your arms extended. It takes an amazing amount of balance and focus. And in this case, the additional challenge of keeping my kilt covering myself.

  Connor got right into the pose. Angus hovered nearby, giving instructions. I was done. The game was on. I got into the pose and held it, just managing to keep my butt covered. I could have held that pose if I hadn't heard a rustling in the bushes. "What's that?" I fell out of the pose and onto my ass.

  Connor was still calmly playing crow. "What's what?"

  "Didn't you hear that?" I pointed and covered my eyes, scanning the woods on the edge of the beach.

  "I'm facing the wrong way, mate," Connor said. "I can't see a thing. I didn't hear anything. Did you, Angus?"

  Angus popped to a stand and scanned the woods. "No. Must be your imagination." He paused for a beat. "Or a bear looking to make a meal out of ye."

  "Very funny." I swore I'd seen something moving in the bushes. But what the hell? It was my turn to catch them off guard.

  If they were going to make fun, I was going to put them in their places. I went into an advanced pose, an arm balance—the eight-angle pose. It required strength in the triceps, shoulder stability, and a strong core. A nice move for showing off.

  I started seated in a staff pose, just like Stryker had taught me, bent my right knee, and brought it to my hip. Then I bent my right elbow and wrapped my leg around it. Not easy to do in a kilt, especially without showing off my family jewels.

  It was usually easier to do this pose wearing pants, which gave traction where the arm met the leg. Skin against skin could get slippery. Doing it in shorts or a kilt wasn't ideal. Doing it on rocks, even less ideal. But more impressive.

  I lifted myself up on my arms, lifted my left heel, and hooked my ankles together, bent my elbows straight back behind me, and lifted my body off to the side. "My fitness trainer, Stryker, taught me this move. Care to try it, Connor? If you need instructions, I can walk you through it."

  Angus started clapping. "Eight-angle pose, is that so? Verra funny. So you're a master, are ye, Austin? Been pulling our legs."

  I was still holding the pose and trying not to sweat or laugh.

  Connor did some choice cursing in a good-humored way. "You mean like this?" He struck the pose without instruction.

  We both came down out of our poses and sat on the ground, laughing.

  I was sure I heard rustling in the bushes again, and swung around to look. Nothing but the breeze gently rustling some tree limbs and lifting some leaves. It was a woodsy sound, but I was suspicious. I wouldn't put it past the crew to be watching us.

  Connor followed my line of sight. "Still worried about a bear?"

  "Still thinking we're being spied on." I thought of Randy Dixon. He was still on the loose and would like nothing better than to get his revenge on me. Was he in Scotland? And could he have tracked me? Odds were not.

  "If there's anything, security will handle it." Connor sat next to me. "Who do ye think would be spying on us?"

  "You tell me," I said. "You're the one with the enthusiastic fan club."

  He roared with laughter and got a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You think someone wants a peek, do you? That one of my fans has stooped to hiding in the bushes and avoiding my tight security detail?" His smile spread across his face. "Well, if that's so, what are we waiting for?" He leaned close and whispered, "You've been studying the kilt yoga video. You'll know this move, too."

  He faced the woods and went up into a full headstand, his kilt falling away to reveal his bare butt to the camera. "What are ye waiting for, mate? Chicken, are you? Don't have an arse worthy of showing off?"

  I glanced at the cameras. "Isn't this a family show?"

  Connor laughed while still holding the handstand. "Family show! That's rich, it is, Austin. We're cable and you know it. We can do what we like. Bare arses are encouraged. The ladies love them."

  I sucked in a deep, resigned breath, exaggerated for comedic effect. I didn't know what Blair was going to think of this. But I couldn't be shown up by Connor. Not after being called chicken. I shrugged, faced the woods, and went into the damn handstand. My kilt fell neatly over my face and my ass hung out in the breeze. "Think your fans can tell our butts apart, Connor?"

  Blair

  Sam grinned. "They look hot with their arses in the air, don't they? Oh, our female fans are going to swoon over this."

  I couldn't believe Austin had just bared his butt for all to see.

  Sam was delighted. "You
r Austin is strong. And impressive. His arse is as nice as Connor's."

  I didn't know why that struck me as funny, but I chuckled, trying to hold back a full-fledged laugh. "High praise indeed. A couple of nice asses." I put my hand over my mouth. "As opposed to plain old asses."

  Sam laughed silently. How did she manage to even laugh in a whisper?

  "Shall we give them a round of applause?" I said. "I think this requires some catcalling."

  She shook her head and caught my arm. "Not yet. Let's see what else they have in store for us."

  I arched an eyebrow. What did she know that I didn't? I shrugged, going along with the game.

  Austin came down out of his handstand and straightened his kilt very primly, almost like a schoolgirl who'd just done a somersault in a skirt on the playground. Connor stood and slapped him on the back, gesturing toward the loch. The breeze blew snatches of their conversation to us. Connor said something about cooling off.

  "No," I whispered to Sam. "They aren't."

  "It's part of Connor's after-yoga routine. Nothing like a dip in the loch to clear your head."

  "That water can't be more than fifty-five degrees." I kept shaking my head.

  "You overestimate the loch's heat," Sam whispered. "More like six, which I think translates to about forty degrees the way you figure it."

  I shivered for the guys just thinking about it. "Swimming in that lake is like doing a polar bear swim. Worse than going for a dip in the middle of Puget Sound." I couldn't believe they'd actually do it. "No. They wouldn't." I turned to Sam. "Are people even allowed to swim here?"

  Sam shrugged. "If you're foolish enough to, and not afraid of bumping into Nessie, there's no law against it." She nodded toward the lake. "I hope Austin's a good swimmer. The shore falls off quickly. Just a few feet offshore, the lake becomes very deep."