Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(16)
“Aye?” he repeated in the tone he reserved for scolding his younger siblings.
“I guess so,” Joanna finally grumbled under her breath.
“Nay. Not ‘I guess so.’?” Grant pecked a quick kiss to the end of her nose. “Look at me, Joanna. The correct answer is ‘aye’—ye ken?”
Joanna’s green eyes narrowed into tighter glinting slits. “Aye,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Now can we get the hell out of the middle of the street? I don’t particularly care to be one of the park’s newest attractions.”
Sweets calm the wee beastie nearly every time. With his married brother’s sage advice echoing in his mind, Grant released his hold on Joanna’s shoulders and smiled. “What say ye we save the visit to the new colt for another day. I promised ye clootie puddin’. Shall we get one t’share and sit in the gardens beside the gristmill? I distinctly remember overhearin’ ye tell one of yer groups how soothing ye found the sound of the water wheel t’be.”
“Tour guide rhetoric,” Joanna said as she turned and left him standing in the middle of the lane and headed down the cobblestone path leading to all the eateries of Highland Life and Legends. “And coffee!” she shouted back over her shoulder. “You promised me coffee too.”
“Aye, lass. Coffee too.” He’d promise her even more if she’d but let him.
Chapter 5
“Meet me here at the B&B tomorrow. We’re swapping out. It’s time you learned the sucky side of the tour guide business.” Joanna put her cellphone on the nightstand and tapped the speaker button. “I mean it, Lucia. This latest bunch is way worse than the newlywed group that got caught screwing in the castle gardens.”
The guerilla grannies had gone too far this time. Before getting on the bus to ride back to the bed-and-breakfast for the night, they’d baited Grant about how a proper gentleman would never allow a woman he cared about to go on her daily run alone. Especially not at night. His me warrior; you helpless woman act had kicked into overdrive and he’d nagged the living piss out of her until she’d finally agreed to let him come along. Her alone time, her time to relax and get as close to her personal nirvana as her fucked-up life would ever allow, had been effectively shot to shit by seven interfering old women.
“What are you talking about? They’re a group of sweet old ladies.” Lucia Banks, Joanna’s best friend and foster sister, sounded entirely too damned amused. Sounded like Lucia knew exactly what the Alverest Knitting Chicks were capable of and fully endorsed their antics. “They’re perfectly harmless,” she added, an irritating giggle sneaking into her tone. “Besides—you said this group would be a cakewalk.”
“Cakewalk, my ass. I’m pulling the plug on this round. I refuse to be manipulated by a bunch of nosy old ladies and a bossy Scottish Neanderthal.”
“Now, Joanna…” Lucia paused a half second. “Wait. Who’s the Scottish Neanderthal?”
“You know damn good and well who the Scottish Neanderthal is.” Joanna knew Lucia’s tone. Her foster sister was about to kick into reasonable-lecture mode and Joanna wasn’t in the mood to hear it. Lucia was the rock. The dependable one, while Joanna was…well, Joanna was more like the wind, always changing direction. They’d bonded in junior high school when Lucia’s family had fostered Joanna and they had been inseparable ever since. Their opposing temperaments weirdly balanced each other out perfectly. “And by the way, when were you going to tell me about you and Taggart?”
“There is nothing to tell…yet.” Lucia made a motherly clucking sound and Joanna could just see her friend smiling and shaking her head. “And seven old ladies with enough grandchildren between them to populate this end of North Carolina can’t be managed? You’re going to let them beat you? You’ve got this, Joanna. Just think one step ahead of them. Like you do with Tyler. You keep him in line without any problem.”
“Tyler is seven and he loves ‘Auntie Jo.’?” Joanna shucked her jeans and T-shirt, then pulled on the skintight insulated running gear that would keep her warm no matter how low the evening temperatures dipped.
“He also knows Auntie Jo will bust his ass if he gets out of line,” Lucia replied. “Get your bluff in on the group.”
“Too late.” Joanna bent and yanked her shoelaces tight. “They’ve already gotten their bluff in on me. That’s why you and I are switching places. I need a break from the matchmaking mobsters. You’re a mother and you also took care of Granny Maxie until she died. You know how to handle irritating childish behavior whether it’s coming from someone who’s seven or seventy.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have your people skills and gift of gab when it comes to chatting up all the vendors and reenactors the groups meet. I’d never be able to score them all those discounts and freebies that you do. Just think back, how many pharmaceutical reps achieve the kind of numbers you hit your first two years on the job? You’ve got a PhD in bullshitting, sister.”
“This isn’t the same as pitching pills and that’s ancient history—almost three years ago.” As far as Joanna was concerned, three years was forever ago, and that part of her life was a never-to-be-reopened chapter thanks to Dr. Matthew Tasker and his lies. “And stop trying to shut down this conversation by bringing that up. You know better.”