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“I was planning to play tourist and go see the castle.”
Because Cole wanted to keep talking to her, he did something stupid: he looked at Maggie’s shoes. They weren’t boots, but they laced and had thick soles. His gaze traveled up her body. Maggie was wearing jeans, a sweater, and a raincoat—a solid outfit for what he had in mind.
“Do you have a hat and gloves?” he asked.
“Yup?” Her tone was quizzical.
“Forget the castle. You wanna go climb a hill with me?”
Maggie’s face scrambled. “A ... hill?”
“Yeah, like go hiking. I’m meeting my driver in a second; that’s why I grabbed him a coffee. He’s putting together a pack for me with water and snacks. He’s going to drop me at the trailhead and then pick me up a few hours later. It’s supposed to have the best views of the city and the sea.”
Maggie blew into her coffee, and for a second, Cole wondered if he’d overstepped. Or maybe she really wanted to see the castle.
But when she looked back at him, those worries disappeared.
Gosh, he liked her eyes.
“That sounds fun, but I’m not really an experienced hiker. Are carabiners involved? Or, um, crampons?”
It was hard not to laugh. “No, it’s a beginner hike.”
“Good, because I honestly have no idea what crampons are.”
“Spikes that go over the soles of your shoes.”
Her eyes went wide. “My God, I don’t think I will ever be badass enough to do any activity that requires shoe spikes.”
“It’s good this isn’t one of those things, then.” He nudged the toe of her sneaker with his. “Come on, Maggie, go hiking with me.”
She looked away, a smile playing over her mouth. It was a breezy morning, and the wind was blowing color into her cheeks. Finally, she turned her eyes back to him. “Okay.”
Cole felt the word everywhere, but his car showed up then, which kept him from touching her again. He opened the back door for Maggie and leaned into the front to give Phil his coffee and scone.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Phil was a burly guy who looked as if he warmed up for the day by tossing a few cabers. Cole probably should’ve gotten him more than one scone.
“Sure I did. This is beyond your normal duties.”
“I have to show off the city to best advantage.”
“Do I have enough water for two? I talked Maggie into coming along.”
“Oh, aye. You’ll be grand. Try not to get lost.”
“Will do.”
“Do you normally do things like this?” Maggie asked Cole.
“Yeah. You have to pass the time somehow.”
Cole didn’t know if he was more of an introvert or an extrovert, but his career had forced him into a fairly solitary nomadic lifestyle. Every project was like a little family, where you built a place for yourself for the weeks or months it took to film. When one project ended, the family dissolved. Then it was on to the next role, the next little family, and the next and the next and the next.
He’d been running so hard for so long, he’d gotten tunnel vision. Did this life suit him? Did that even matter? But as he buckled his seat belt, he glanced at Maggie, and doubt ran a cold fingertip up his spine.
During the drive, Cole chatted with Phil about the route, about the Edinburgh Festival Fringe—which they were going to miss—and about the weather. In California, the weather was too boring to be much use for conversation. But here, a single day could contain every season. Maggie joked with them both, and she produced an elastic from her pocket and braided her hair. Cole tried not to watch the progress of that too closely.
Finally, Phil pulled in to the parking lot of what was, in winter, a ski lodge.
