by Marlie May
“Is that your parents?” Lark asked. A hand shading her eyes, she stared at the couple weaving through the crowd, heading toward us.
I hesitated, but when Lark started toward them, I followed.
“Hey!” Dad clapped my shoulder and then enveloped me in a big bear hug.
“Looking great, Mr. Ross.” Lark couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his kilt.
“Call me Micah,” Dad said, hugging her, too.
Like me, he wore Scottish attire, but he’d skipped the traditional shoes, wearing sneakers and a tee emblazoned with a hockey team’s name instead. Definitely an odd combination. Laughable, even. I’d never been one to hold back on an opportunity to internally snicker about my father. Why weren’t sarcastic words running through my mind now?
Mom leaned close to Lark. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to talk him into wearing it, but I’m sure glad I did.”
I checked out Dad again, wondering how Mom could see him worthy of multiple eyebrow wiggles. Dad looked okay, but…wow, were my knees that knobby, too? A glance down confirmed that genetics was the pits.
“You two should come out to our place for dinner sometime,” Dad said. “We’ll barbeque.”
“That would be fun.” Lark squeezed my hand and, in her smile, I caught that longing she’d spoken of at the beach. A lifetime of dreams blazed in her eyes.
I could give her this. A family.
“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Mom glanced around. “I’m dying to try some Scottish pie.”
“I’ve been eating my weight in bannocks,” Lark said. She glanced shyly at me.
Even though it didn’t need straightening, I tugged on my tartan. “I grabbed a sandwich before the events.”
“Dag told me you’re on the Highland Games Committee, too,” Mom said to Lark. “You must be enormously busy. So many wonderful events, food, music. It looks simple on the surface, but I imagine it’s a lot of work behind the scenes.” She clapped and danced in place to the lilt of someone playing bagpipes. Her Celtic dress swayed around her legs. “I’m having a great time.”
“I’ve loved being a part of it,” Lark said. “In some ways, it’s overwhelming, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“From what I hear, you’ve almost single-handedly run the entire event.”
“What?” Lark slapped her hands on her pink cheeks and turned gleaming eyes my way. “You told them that?”
I wrapped an arm around her waist. “All true.”
“But, I’m just a glorified helper.”
“You’re the glue holding this entire event together.”
Standing on tiptoe, she kissed my cheek. “Thank you for saying that.”
She was the glue. Not just for the Highland Games but for us.
“We’re thinking of going to the craft tent next,” Mom said, squinting in that direction. She tugged on the hem of Dad’s tee. “You feeling crafty, honey?”
Dad winced. Crafty, he was not. A chuckle burst from me, surprising all of us, me the most. I smiled at Dad, who grinned back and nudged my shoulder with his knuckles.
Maybe Dad and I could find a way to get closer. I’d like that. It was time.
Mom linked her arm through Dad’s and beamed up at him. “I bet we can do painting, decoupage, and even animal sculpture with pipe cleaners.”
Dad’s face drooped and it was all I could do to keep my lips from splitting into a wider grin. “Sounds…fantastic.”
I laughed again, realizing it was from a genuine appreciation of hanging out with my parents, and not because I enjoyed watching Mom twist Dad.
It was good to feel this way about them. Him. It felt right.
“Let’s go, then,” Mom said, and to us, “See you later!”
I watched as they left. Dad’s gangly legs strutted alongside Mom, his pace slower to accommodate her shorter strides. He leaned close to her ear, and he must’ve said something funny because her laughter trilled out. It reminded me of when I was a kid, when I’d been unable to sleep and crept downstairs for a drink of water, and found them snuggling and giggling together on the sofa. Back then, I’d been embarrassed by all that kissy stuff. Now? It warmed me inside to see them happy together.
Maybe I could go out to Dad’s worksite this week and lend him a hand.
Lark squinted down at her printed Games schedule. “I want to do the tug-of-war, and it’s starting soon.” She beamed up at me. “You up for that?” Sunshine bloomed on her cheeks, and the wind picked up, scattering her chestnut hair. She raked it away, her smile holding true.
“With a rope,” I said, teasing her.
Cocking her hand on her hip, she smirked. “Any other way you can think of doing it?”
I wrapped my arms around her and tugged her near, nibbling on her neck. “I can think of a lot of ways to do it.”
“Maybe you need to start writing them down.” She kissed me, too quick to appreciate. “The next time we’re alone, we can check your ideas off one—” Another kiss. “By—” And another kiss. “One.”
I growled. Lifting her off her feet, I spun her around, my mouth locked onto hers.
“Get a room,” some teenager grumbled as he dodged around us.
Just you wait, I wanted to say. You’ll be doing the same thing one day, with someone you love.
Love.
Yeah, Roan was right. I had it bad.
The second I set Lark on her feet, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the fenced-in games area. “Hey, don’t distract me,” she said. “Kissing can wait.”
Could it? I wasn’t so sure about that. But I followed her, anyway, because I was more than willing to haul on a rope if it made Lark happy.
* * *
The Highland Games came to an end with a burst of colorful fireworks.
Not that I was able to catch more than a few quick glances at the sky. I was putting out my own version of fireworks—in the form of a bunch of teenagers who decided it would be fun to steal the cabers. I caught them lugging a couple poles through the shadows on the outskirts of the park, and then trying to heft them over the back gate. As Alice had pointed out, the cabers were heavy. When the kids saw me, they dropped them with a loud bang and took off.
I was tempted to give chase—even with my kilt flapping around my thighs—but opted to bring the cabers back to the main barn instead. Damn things were heavy enough when a guy had to lift them in competition and hurl them forward, let along lug—no, drag—them a quarter mile to put them away.
While the crowd continued to watch the grand finale in rapt awe, I hurried to central command for the final debriefing, where I joined Lark inside the main office. I dropped into the seat beside her.
“Where you been?” she asked, after a quick kiss.
We needed to find time for longer kisses. And a few other activities. Soon.
I explained what I’d been up to.
Other volunteers hurried into the room after finishing up whatever detail they’d been assigned. Someone left the door open to allow cooler air to drift through, but even with the sun gone from the sky, the summer heat lingered, and we were all soon wiping our brows and fanning our faces with whatever scrap of paper we could find.
When she looked my way, a warm smile covered Lark’s face, extending toward me like a hug.
“I’m beat,” I said. Before my caber theft-in-progress caper, I’d been assigned a late clean-up shift. Volunteer crews would return the park to its original shape over the next few days, but the groundwork needed to be started tonight.
Lark slid her arm around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder. I liked being close to her; it made me feel complete.
“Poor baby.” She lowered her voice. “Once we’re done here, I’ll give you a massage.”
“I—”
“Okay, folks,” Esteban called out from the front of the room, drawing our attention. “I want to thank all of you for your hard work. It truly paid off.” He wiped his eyes, and I could see he was choked up. “We raised seventy thousa
nd dollars for the Sweetwater Cancer Foundation!”
“Oh, no,” Lark whispered, her shoulders curling forward.
Of course, she’d hoped we’d raise one hundred thousand. If I could, I’d call my accountant this minute, and make a transfer to fulfill her goal. Be the hero I longed to be. But doing that would require explanations I had no idea how to give.
My cowardice was killing me.
Because it was the only thing I could do, I tightened my arm around her waist, sharing her disappointment.
“Damn,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“This money will go toward much-needed services for families afflicted by cancer.” Esteban’s gleaming gaze swept through the room. “We couldn’t have done it without everyone’s combined efforts.” He shook his head, and his eyes glistened again. “I’m truly honored and humbled by all your hard work. By what you’ve done for the Foundation.”
People cheered and congratulated each other.
Lark rose and walked forward to hug Esteban. After, they leaned back in each other’s arms and laughed.
“Seventy thousand?” Lark said with wide eyes. “That’s wonderful.”
Esteban rubbed her back. “I can’t believe it. It wouldn’t have been possible without you. You know that.”
Lark blushed and lowered her head. “Thank you, but without each volunteer, we couldn’t have done it at all.” Returning to my side, she took my hand. “While I’m disappointed, I can’t believe we raised that much money. It’s a miracle.”
It truly was. A miracle called Lark.
* * *
On Monday afternoon, I stopped by Lark’s place before she had to leave for work. We poured tall glasses of creamy iced coffee and sat on her front deck. Cally joined us, flopping in the shade next to the wooden rail.
“You have plans tomorrow night?” I asked Lark.
She scooted her chair close to mine and then leaned her head on my shoulder. “I’m free as a bird.”
“Let’s do something together, then.”
Rising, she moved to stand in front of me. Her knee parted my thighs, and she stepped between them, her hands landing on my shoulders. Rubbing. Cupping the back of my neck. Heat burst through me. “Have anything particular in mind, my kilted friend?”
Kisses would do for now. “Everything, lass. Everything.”
Lowering her lips to mine, she climbed onto my lap and wrapped her legs around my waist. I got swept away in us. The warmth of her lips, the way her hands clung to my shoulders. The thrill of holding her in my arms. Her sighs turned to moans, and my groans joined in as I slipped my hands underneath her shirt. Braless. Fuck. It had been too long since we’d been together. I’d missed her. Missed this.
Hell, I missed her the second we parted.
When she eased back, her dazed eyes met mine. “You want to come over tonight when I get home from work?”
“Probably shouldn’t.”
“You have to work early tomorrow?”
“Yeah, work.” The words tasted bitter. Roan didn’t need me at the moment, and I’d already told Dad I’d be out to his job mid-week. Nothing waited for me except my book. While I’d gotten some work done lately, I still had more than ten-thousand words left to write, including that most vital scene. My deadline was close enough it made me sweat.
But that wasn’t why I hesitated. My guilt was choking me so tightly, I couldn’t get past it. I needed to tell Lark but didn’t dare.
She’d been hurt in the past and her trust meant everything.
“You should get to bed early, then,” she said as if she completely understood. But, how could she? I barely understood, myself. “I worry about you working this hard.”
She climbed off my lap to stand in front of me, caring evident in every crease on her face.
“I don’t work that much.” I winced, then spit it out. “I don’t actually work as a handyman every day. I…alternate with other jobs, like…carpentry.” Fuck. Why had I said that? Could I sink myself any further into this pit I’d dug?
Her head tilted. “Carpentry. What do you build?”
“Uh, general stuff.” I nodded, to convince myself as much as Lark. Being dishonest churned up my insides, but this wasn’t a good time to tell her about my real job. She had to leave for work soon.
I needed to find the right time fast because keeping secrets from Lark was wrong. It was past time to share all of myself with her. “I’m building cabinets in the back offices, out at Spicy Concoctions.” Which was somewhat true. Roan had asked if I’d help, but he wouldn’t have the materials until a week from now.
“Custom stuff, huh? I bet it’ll look fantastic. What wood do you like to work with most?”
Wood. How was I supposed to know the answer to that? “Pine.”
“Softwood, then.” Head tilted, she frowned. “I thought most cabinets were made of oak.”
“Yes. Oak.” I swallowed back my shame, but it continued to burn a hole through my gut. “Back to tomorrow night.” Hasty subject change, but if I kept spitting out lies, I was going to hate myself more than I already did.
“Definitely want to get together tomorrow night.” She retook her seat and lifted my hand, pressing our knitted fingers against her chest. “Remember, I mentioned that I always pay people back when they do a favor for me. I had a thought the other day, and I don’t want you to turn me down. You paid Cally’s bill, so, in exchange, I’ll make your lunch for the next few weeks.”
“Last I knew you didn’t cook.”
She socked my arm. “I’ll have you know, I make a mean PB&J. And I can pick up lunch meat for subs. I’ll add fruit and granola bars for snacks.” Her cute nose wrinkled. “Chips, if you insist.”
“Hey, don’t go out of your way for me.” Scrambling out of this mess might be more difficult than scaling Mt. Rushmore. “I’ll pick something up in the morning before work.”
I couldn’t meet her eye. Being dishonest with her caused a weight heavier than boulders to compress my soul. When had I turned into such a complete liar?
I’d tell her. As soon as I figured out how to do it without making myself come across like a total jerk.
“I insist,” she said.
Relenting would please her, which was my goal in life. She worried about me working hard and not having lunch, which made me feel awesome. I could eat what she made while working on my book. It would save having to stop to fix something. “I’d love that.”
The tremble of her lips told me how happy she was to do this for me. “I’ll put something together before you leave, then.”
“I’ll come for you about five tomorrow, then?”
“Sounds great.”
I pulled her close and kissed her like I was going to lose her, putting everything I had into it, leaving her gasping and my insides drained. Because I really did worry she’d tell me to get lost once I confessed.
It would kill me.
As I drove away, a sense of joy settled permanently into my bones. Tomorrow night I’d share all my secrets with Lark.
And I’d tell her I love her.
Lark
I jumped when my phone rang the next morning.
Esteban spoke, “Hey, I’ve got news about the numbers for the Highland Games.”
“I thought the numbers were set.”
“We’ve got a new number. You’re going to be overjoyed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We reached one-hundred thousand dollars.”
Stunned, I dropped onto the sofa. Collapsed, actually. As if she sensed something was happening, Cally danced around my feet, whimpering. A few quick pats settled her. Pinning my phone between my shoulder and ear, I lifted the dog up onto the cushion beside me. She climbed up onto my lap and tried to lick my face, but I nudged her away.
“Lark?” Esteban said.
As Cally settled beside me on the sofa, I fumbled with my phone and my words. “I’m here.” I shoved my hair off my face. “How did it happen?”
&nb
sp; “We got a late donation.” A crackling sound told me he shuffled papers. He must be in the office, working. “The donor asked to remain anonymous.”
It really didn’t matter who’d contributed. A giddy feeling spread through me, combined with a pressing need to cry. “I don’t understand. I called everyone a billion times. And all of our potential donors had contributed already.”
“Like I said, I can’t share details, but you were the first I wanted to tell.”
“That’s unbelievable.” A dream come true. Tears trickled down my face, but I fist-pumped the air, letting euphoria spread through me.
We’d done it. With this extra money, the Foundation would be able to expand into modest wish-making gestures, a pet project of mine. Nothing big like Disney vacations, but maybe we could give cancer patients digital readers or gift cards for books. Or we could offer pet support, an expense many people struggled with when they were sick and had limited income.
We ended the call, and I dropped my phone onto my coffee table with a clatter.
Lifting Cally, I kissed her while she nuzzled my face. My euphoria couldn’t be denied. Jumping to my feet, I danced around in the living room with Cally, not caring when I smacked into a side table and almost sent a lamp flying.
My phone chimed again.
“Just call this Lark Grand Central,” I said as I lowered Cally to the floor and answered the call.
“Hello?” said Charity, from the book store.
I bit my lip. Please, let this be an offer of the job. Two good things in one day wasn’t too much to wish for, was it?
“I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you,” Charity rushed on, while I gnawed on a fingernail and braced myself.
“I understand. It’s fine.” Actually, it wasn’t. I’d been perched on an overheated stove the entire time I waited, scorching my butt. Not that I’d tell Charity that.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve offered the position to a different candidate.”
My confidence dropped beyond the center of the Earth. So did my legs, which gave out. I slid to the floor beside the lamp I’d knocked over.