“One condition, though,” Brodie said, making Katya want to scream again. “No punching me in the face.”
“That seems reasonable,” Denise said. “Doesn’t that seem reasonable?”
“I need to hear the words, Kat.” Brodie appeared to be enjoying himself far too much. “Do you promise you won’t punch me in the face?”
A million different ways she could murder the man and be done with him flashed in front of her eyes. “Yes,” she bit out.
“Then we’re good to go.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and ambled toward her. “After you.” He motioned to the gate.
Katya smothered a growl as she climbed, then stood watching as Brodie vaulted over. As soon as he landed on his feet, she socked him in the stomach. With a groan, he bent double, and Katya snatched his keys. “I promised no punching in the face.”
“That’s just mean,” he groaned.
“Can we go now?” Denise demanded. “I can’t watch this anymore. I’m embarrassed for both of you. And I’m hungry.” She turned away and looked over her shoulder at them. “You see this backside? It doesn’t come naturally. It needs regular meals and chocolate cake to keep it looking this good.”
“It’s very impressive.” Brodie rubbed his stomach while putting some distance between himself and Katya.
Katya stalked past her friend. “Let’s go. And I’m driving.” She glared back at Brodie.
Denise didn’t have to be told twice. She rushed to the car, obviously worried there would be another delay with dinner. Brodie took his time, clearly wanting to stay out of Katya’s punching range. The coward. But it did mean she was able to get in the car and lock the doors before he could join them.
He tugged at the handle. “This isn’t funny. Unlock the car.”
She opened the passenger window a crack. “Maybe when you’re calling one of your brothers for a lift back into town, you could ask them to bring the key for the padlock.” She started the engine.
“Katya, I’m serious.” And to be fair, he did look it. “Get out of my car, or I’ll call the cops.”
“Go ahead.” Matt Donaldson would most likely give her a medal for pissing a MacGregor off.
As she drove away, Brodie shouted after her. “You can’t leave me here.”
Katya wound down her window and shouted back. “Watch me.”
3
“Well, that went better than I thought it would,” Brodie muttered as he watched his SUV disappear around a bend in the road.
He put his hands on his hips and hung his head, disgusted with himself. Five minutes in each other’s presence, and they were re-enacting their childhood. But then, lifelong habits were hard to break—even after ten years apart.
As far back as he could remember, Katya had been by his side, arguing and getting into mischief right along with him. Even as a child, he’d known Katya was his. His to fight with, to play with, and to love. Never even noticing other girls—unless it was to wind Katya up—he’d known that one day he’d marry his best friend, and they’d never have to be apart.
A sharp pain jabbed inside his chest, and he absently rubbed it. Never, in all the time he’d spent planning out their lives, had he thought he’d have to live without her. When she left, he’d been lost, and a part of him had mourned her ever since.
It had taken years to get his life back on track and to come to terms with the fact his future didn’t include Katya.
And now she’d come home.
Brodie folded to sit at the side of the road and drew up his knees to rest his arms on them. What had he been telling his brothers? That he’d moved on from Katya, that she was in his past? He snorted. What a load of bull. When she left, she’d ripped out a part of him, leaving behind a gaping hole. One he’d thought he’d managed to fill with other things, but seeing her again made him realize how wrong he’d been. The hole was still there. It had just scabbed over.
In reality, he was still the same broken man she’d left in her wake.
All. Over. A. Plane.
His gaze turned to the beast in question. It looked so innocuous—de-winged and strapped to the back of the truck. You would never have guessed it was capable of derailing a man’s life. And making a mockery of him with everyone who heard his pathetic tale.
And Brodie could do nothing about it. Legally, the land belonged to both of them, and unless they wanted to lose it, they’d eventually have to share. Which meant that even if he did manage to build his house, he’d still have to look out at the plane every day. A huge, ugly reminder of everything he’d lost.
With a frustrated sigh, he picked up a stone and tossed it at a tree, contemplating his current predicament. Since Katya had stolen his car, it was either a long walk to town—and the house he shared with two of his brothers—or call one of them to come get him. And he’d rather cuddle up to Katya’s plane than listen to his brothers ribbing him about his stolen car. Wearily, he got to his feet. Looked like he was walking. As he scowled at the truck, another idea began to form in his mind…
What if he drove himself back to town? And if he should happen to leave Katya’s precious plane somewhere that wasn’t his land, then that was only an added bonus.
Aye, he liked that idea best.
At last his youthful transgressions came in handy, because all it took was his Swiss Army knife and a little know-how to start the engine of the old truck that Katya had, helpfully, left unlocked for him. As he put the truck in gear, his mood brightened. He’d stood by while Katya left, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to idly stand by while she returned. He’d changed in the time she’d been gone. Katya had no idea who she was dealing with now, and he couldn’t wait to introduce her to this Brodie.
Whistling a jaunty tune, he headed down the hill and into town.
Katya’s family home hadn’t changed one iota in the past ten years—and nor had her family. Well, except for her younger brother, Stephen. He’d shot up and was now a good head taller than her.
“Oops!” she said when he opened the door, using the family nickname that irritated him.
“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled as she wrapped him in a hug that had him squirming to get free.
“What else would I call the family accident?” She held on tighter. It was, after all, a big sister’s duty to drive her younger brother nuts. “You know we love you, Oops.”
“Let go,” he complained. “I don’t do public affection.”
That had her grinning into his chest. “You’re growing like a tree.”
“I’m fifteen,” he grumbled. “I grow. Are you done yet? This is embarrassing.”
“At least your sunny attitude hasn’t changed.” She released his lanky frame but ruffled his hair instead, making him scowl at her. “Aw,” she teased. “You look sad. Come here and I’ll hug it away.”
“Just for the record,” he said. “I didn’t miss you while you were gone.”
“Liar.”
“Hey, Stevo,” Denise said as she came through the door behind Katya. She stopped abruptly and gaped at him. “Holy crap, you’ve grown.”
Stephen’s whole head turned red as he muttered something unintelligible and backed away from them. After tripping over nothing, he scurried down the hallway to his bedroom.
“What’d I say?” Denise watched him go.
“Nothing. But you said it using a girl’s mouth. One that’s attached to an attractive girl’s body.”
“Oh!” Denise was sympathetic. “I would rather have my toenails removed with pliers than live through my teen years again. I remember this phase, only I didn’t run when a boy spoke to me. No, I giggled uncontrollably and looked like a total dork.”
Katya patted her friend’s arm. “You’re still a dork.”
“Thanks.”
“You came!” Her arms wide, Katya’s mother rushed from the kitchen and made a beeline for her daughter.
“Mum, you called five minutes ago and told me to get here. Why are you surprised I made it?” She h
ugged her mother tight, breathing in the scent of rose petals that seemed to follow her around.
Delia took a step back before patting Katya’s cheek. “I’m never quite sure what you’ll do. After all, you did wander off all those years ago and haven’t been home since.”
“I didn’t ‘wander off.’ I left to train as a pilot. And I saw you and the family whenever I could.”
“You mean whenever we could visit you.” Her mother pursed her lips. “I don’t recall you coming back to visit us.”
“You know why I didn’t want to return to Invertary.” This ongoing argument was one of the reasons.
“Yes.” Delia stuck her nose in the air. “I know exactly why you didn’t come home. Cowardice. You were afraid to face your husband.”
“Mum,” Katya groaned.
But, now done with her, her mother turned her attention to Denise, giving her an enthusiastic hug and compliments on her outfit instead of a reprimand. Typical.
Denise pointed to Delia’s full-skirted dress and pinafore apron. “I’m loving the 1950s vibe you’ve got going there, Mrs. S.”
Suck up, Katya mouthed at her friend.
“One must make an effort for dinner,” her mother said in an over-the-top English accent.
Her mother tucked her hands into the crook of Katya’s and Denise’s arms and led them around the eclectic mix of furniture that made up their living room.
There was the old vinyl sofa her father found in a skip when Katya was a child. Her mum had re-covered the cushions in a crazy multicolored floral pattern that clashed with the burnt orange of the faux leather frame. The coffee table was made out of empty glass bottles her father had melted and fused together. And every inch of the walls was crammed with his paintings. Some of the huge canvases depicted realistic scenes from Scottish history, while others were a mixture of shapes and dreamlike images.
Four mismatched armchairs of various shades, bookcases that overflowed with art texts and plays, and an old stereo surrounded by a vinyl album collection dating back decades took up the rest of the room. Odd little mementos, childhood artworks, and small sculptures filled every other spare bit of space.
It looked like a gallery and a second-hand shop got together and had a child they’d abandoned to a colony of monkeys.
The kitchen/dining room was more of the same. Except the huge wooden table that once dominated the room had disappeared, replaced by three different-colored Formica tables that sat edge-to-edge in a row forming a large rectangle.
Her father sat at one end studying an art journal with a glare.
“Where’s the old table?” Katya asked.
“Your father turned it into a sculpture,” her mother said as she took a pot off the stove.
“Needs must,” her dad muttered.
“Hi, Mr. Savage,” Denise said with a wide grin, clearly enjoying the insanity of Katya’s family.
“Denise.” Her father nodded. “Name’s Fraser. Use it.”
Katya rolled her eyes at Denise. “You can see where Stephen gets his charm.”
That earned her a brief, amused smile from her dad.
“Sit anywhere,” her mother ordered while carrying a large casserole dish to the table. “I made your favorite.” She placed it in the middle of the table and lifted the lid with a flourish. “Sausage and tomato surprise.”
Katya didn’t bother telling her that the dish was Brodie’s favorite, not hers. She’d always preferred her mum’s macaroni cheese.
“Yum,” she said instead.
Looking pleased with herself, Delia went off to fetch the potatoes.
Denise leaned over to Katya and whispered, “What’s the surprise?” She nodded toward the dish.
“There isn’t one. The surprise part was added when Mum made it one time without the sausages. She forgot to put them in. Surprise—no sausages.”
Denise laughed. “I love your family.”
“They’re yours. My gift to you.”
“I heard that,” her dad grumbled, his eyes still on the journal.
Katya lowered her voice further, hoping he wouldn’t hear what she had to say next. “FYI, if you drop anything on the floor, don’t look under the table when you retrieve it. Dad’s a traditionalist, which means there’s nothing under his kilt. You might catch a glimpse of more than the family tartan.”
“That’s a joke, right?” Denise’s eyes widened.
“No,” her dad barked. “Underwear was created by the English to stop trousers from rubbing their wherewithal. Real men wear kilts and let their bits air, as nature intended.”
“I’m curious,” Denise said. “How does Mother Nature feel about bras?”
Katya answered, before her father could. “She’d rather we let everything hang loose and enjoy the freedom.”
Denise was still laughing when Stephen slunk into the room.
“Hey, Stevo,” Denise said mischievously.
He promptly tripped over his feet and fell onto their father.
“If you pulled your jeans up, you wouldn’t trip,” her dad told him. “Or better yet, wear that kilt I got you. You have fine legs for a lad your age. Might as well show them off. Maybe you’ll attract a nice lassie.”
“Somebody kill me now,” Stephen muttered as he took a seat far away from Denise.
“Welcome home.” Her mother set a big bowl of mashed potato on the table. “I added cheese, just the way you like it.”
Or the way Brodie liked it, as Katya preferred her mashed potato plain.
She caught Stephen’s eye and saw his amusement. “Aye,” he said. “Welcome home. Better eat up fast, because Mum made your favorite pudding too.”
“Don’t say it,” Katya begged, knowing what was coming.
“Rhubarb crumble.” He burst into fits of laughter.
“I don’t know why that’s so funny.” Her mother took a seat facing Katya.
“Neither do I.” Katya glared at her brother, who knew she hated rhubarb and Brodie loved it.
“Dig in,” her mother said with an unmistakable sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “There’s nothing like food to bring back good memories.”
That’s when Katya realized her mother knew full well whose favorite dishes she’d prepared. And that meant Katya had to make a fuss over every mouthful, because no way would she give her mother the satisfaction of winning this round. So, she loaded up her plate with sausage surprise and tried not to think of Brodie while she ate.
4
“I’m going to kill him,” Katya snarled the following morning as she glared at the place where her plane and truck should be.
“Is it an invisible plane?” her brother asked. “Like the one Wonder Woman flies?”
“You think you’re funny.” Katya scowled at him. “But you’re not.”
“He kind of is,” Denise said, making Stephen blush again.
Katya clutched the coffee beaker they’d filled at the pub, as though it were gold. Dougal Jamieson, the owner of the town’s pub and hotel, still made the best coffee in Invertary. But even that didn’t brighten her mood.
She pointed her mug at the giggling fools. “I thought you two came along to help me. This isn’t helping.”
“Um, hello?” Denise pointed at nothing because that’s all she could point at. “We came to help you unload the plane. The plane isn’t here, so now we’re improvising.”
“If it isn’t invisible,” Stephen mused, “then it must be the rise of the machines. The plane came alive and flew off on its own.”
Denise shook her head. “It couldn’t. It doesn’t have an onboard computer. It doesn’t have much of anything. It’s basically balsa wood and canvas.”
“Good point,” her brother said. “Then it could only have been Brodie.”
“You think?” Katya snapped. “Gimme his number. I need to call him.”
“I don’t have it.” Stephen grinned widely. “But Mum does.”
“I hate everyone in Invertary.” Katya pulled her phone out of the bac
k pocket of her Levi 501s and tapped her mother’s number.
“Hey.” Stephen was still grinning. “Nobody forced you to come back.”
“I came back to preserve Great-granny’s legacy. This is the town she made her home after the war, and this is the place that should remember everything she did.”
Stephen rolled his eyes and sat on the grass.
“Hello, darling.” Her mother’s voice spoke in her ear. “I don’t have long to talk because we’re in rehearsals for Macbeth. I’m playing Lady Macbeth again.”
“Haven’t you already done that about a million times?”
“Yes, but this time we’re doing a modern interpretation of the text. We’re all going to wear potato sacks and throw red paint at each other during the fight scenes.”
Katya took a deep breath and reminded herself it had been her choice to return to Invertary. “I need Brodie’s phone number.”
“About time! This is wonderful news. You two should never have separated in the first place.” There were muffled noises in the background, and someone called for Lady Macbeth to get a move on.
“We’re not getting back together. I need to find out what he did with my plane. Could you text me his number?”
“Of course, dear. Whatever you say, dear. Anyway, got to go—my muse is calling.” And with that, she hung up. A few seconds later, Katya’s phone pinged with Brodie’s number.
“I shouldn’t have left the keys in his car,” Katya grumbled as she dialed. She’d done that so he could pick it up without disturbing her or her family. “I should have hidden the car and held it hostage, just in case he did something moronic—like this.”
“Brothers Construction,” the voice said in her ear. “Brodie MacGregor speaking.”
“What have you done with my plane?” Katya imagined the phone was Brodie’s neck and tightened her hold on it.
“Well, good morning, Kat.” Brodie’s voice dropped into an amused drawl. “Sleep well?”
Come Fly With Me Page 3