Well Played (Well Met #2)(52)

The glade in front of the Marlowe Stage was quiet, since the Dueling Kilts’ first set wasn’t for another hour or so. I’d picked my way halfway across the rows of empty benches before I noticed Dex, perched center stage on a stool, tuning an acoustic guitar. He was talking to Daniel, who was sitting on the lip of the low stage, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. I stopped short when I saw them. Dex and I still hadn’t exchanged one word yet this summer, and I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Obviously our yearly hookup wasn’t going to happen. Did he know that already? Did he know about Daniel and me? Did he care?

Both men looked up as I approached, and I squared my shoulders. Too late to run away now. Time to face the MacLeans.





Fifteen




Hey.” Daniel’s voice was a cool drink of water on a summer’s day. I felt better the moment he spoke. I looked from him to Dex. How had it taken me so long to realize who had really been writing to me? Now that I knew the truth it seemed ludicrous that I’d ever thought otherwise.

Dex nodded at me. “Stace. What’s up?” He got up from his stool and gave me a quick up-and-down appraisal. “You look different. Change your hair?”

Daniel’s snort was barely audible, and as his eyes met mine, I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “She changed her whole costume.” His gaze roamed over me, from my pinned-up hair to my long, full skirts. I basked in his appreciative look like a flower soaking up the summer sun.

“Oh.” Dex shrugged, clearly losing interest in the conversation. Probably because it wasn’t about him. “Looks good.” The words were a compliment, but there wasn’t a lot of power behind them. He held the guitar by its neck, letting it dangle carelessly. He was comfortable with the instrument, treating it as an extension of his arm. “Where the hell is Freddy, anyway? He’s late.”

“Getting his drums out of the truck. Todd’s with him.” Daniel looked away from me and frowned as he checked his phone. “They’re not late yet. Not technically. They should be here in a sec.”

Dex shrugged again. “I’ll go find them.” He handed the guitar to Daniel.

“Make sure you call him Freddy a few more times. You know he loves that.”

Dex hopped down off the stage, and without another word to either of us, he was gone. I watched him leave, amazed. This time last year I’d lusted after that man with every fiber of my being. Now, while I could still appreciate him in an aesthetic sense, none of my fibers wanted anything to do with him.

Instead I turned back to Daniel, and all those fibers went on alert, saying, Yes. We want this one. Before I could speak he spoke first, his nod a little more formal, in keeping with the setting. “Milady Beatrice. Good morrow.” His accent wasn’t bad, but then again the man lived at Renaissance faires. It was to be expected.

“Good morrow, sir.” I bobbed a little curtsy at him and we shared a warm smile, a place made just for the two of us. “So,” I said. “Freddy?”

He rolled his eyes as he stowed his phone in his back pocket. “Frederick. Dex’s baby brother. He plays the hand drum and is never, ever on time. Also, he absolutely hates being called Freddy.”

“So Dex does it as much as possible.” I nodded sagely.

“Exactly.” He squinted down at me. “Are you sure you’re an only child? You seem to have a good grasp of sibling dynamics.”

“Just me, as far as I know.” I grinned back, but something about my voice felt hollow. Like we were making awkward small talk.

His gaze roamed over me, that peaceful smile still on his face. “Sorry,” he said after a second. He took my hand, threading our fingers together. “It’s just so nice to see you. And to talk to you in person, instead of typing out the things I want to say.”

I laughed because I’d been thinking much the same thing. “It’s weird, though, right? I worry that I don’t sound smart enough in person. When I’m sending you an email I have time to think about what I want to say, as opposed to just babbling. You can’t backspace conversation.” And here I was babbling, proving my point.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, we can go back to that.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it at me for emphasis. “We can stand here and text each other.”

“Nope.” I wagged a finger at him. “No phones at Faire, remember? Simon would have my head if I pulled out a phone while I’m in costume.”

“Hmmm, good point. But those rules don’t apply to me. I can still text you as much as I want. All day long.” He glanced down at his phone, and his smile vanished. “Okay, now Frederick really is late. I should go find those yahoos.”

“So this is what you do all day? Wrangle those guys?” It hadn’t seemed like much of a task, but now that I was standing here with him I could see that Daniel was clearly the brains in the family, and his life consisted of herding cats. Hot-looking cats in kilts. There were worse ways to spend a life, but being the sole grown-up in the group had to be exhausting.

“Yep.” He spread his arms in illustration as we headed up the lane together. “Welcome to my life.”

I couldn’t help but smile as we parted at a fork in the lane: him toward the parking lot to find his musicians, and me back toward the chess field tavern to find Emily. The more I learned about his life, the more I liked it. And if I’d had a choice, I would have gladly followed him.