Page 40 of Highland Stars
“Good thing I’m not a professional.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “You forget I heard you at the pub.”
“Trust me, I’ll never forget spotting you there that night, lass.”
Her pale skin flushes the most bonnie shade of pink. I don’t want to say too much, so I don’t take that train any farther.
“You could possibly make an argument for me being a semi-professional, but I’d say even that’s a stretch.”
“Alright. I’m pretty rusty.” She picks up the guitar and sits back down. “I only picked it up because I was trying to distract myself, like I said.”
“I promise not to judge. I’m just excited to hear.” I sit down in the other patio chair.
Makenna gives me a small smile then turns her focus to the fingers of her left hand. The playing wasn’t perfect, but I quickly recognizedLandslide.Her gaze moves between her hands as she picks the strings, unable—or unwilling—to look at me. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for it when she starts to sing.
Her voice is stunning, and I couldn’t help but stare, dumbstruck. I’d noticed a slight rasp in her speaking voice but hadn’t thought anything of it. Her pitch-perfect singing combined with that rasp, though? Magic. Pure magic. Today has left me bone-tired, and all I want to do is lie down and listen to her for hours.
The song is over far too soon, and Makenna looks up at me with a sheepish smile.
“I thinkyoumight be the wizard,” I say.
She gives her eyes a wee roll and smiles. “What are you talking about?”
“That was magic.”
“Malcolm!” She looks like she’d more easily believe I was headed to space tomorrow.
“I’m serious. The guitar wasn’t perfect, but it was quite good. And I think you could improve that with practice. Your voice, though. It was magical. And I know this is odd, but it reminded me of touching a really nice blanket.”
She laughs at this. “That’s an interesting comparison.” She grins and I want to put the tip of my finger in her dimple. Why does she have to be so cute?
She sets the guitar back on the table as I shrug. “I can’t tell you how impressed I am right now.”
Makenna quirks her lips to the side, holding back a smile. But I see it in her eyes. She’s happy, and a little surprised to haveimpressed me. If she only knew just how much she impressed me. How much things have shifted for me in the short amount of time I’ve been home.
I only hope I’m not signing up for another round of pain.
“So tell me,” I ask, digging into my chicken pie she’d kept warm in the cooker. “Why Scotland? I know the part about your heritage, but was there more?”
“Well, you know I love history, which, of course, could lead me to a lot of places,” Makenna says, taking a sip of her spiced orange tea. After I’d filled my plate and she’d made her tea, we’d made our way back to the patio.
“Of course.”
“But my love of history really started with mine and Mom’s neighbor, Callum.”
“He’s Scottish?”
“Oh, aye,” she says with a huge grin.
“I love it when you do that.”
“Don’t say that, or I’ll do it all the time.”
“And that’s a problem, why?”
“I sure wouldn’t want to do it to someone who isn’t you. They’d be like, ‘Go home, American.’”
I laugh. “Might depend on the person.”
