“That almost sounds altruistic.”
“Those little lassies are vicious. I've nae skin left on ma shins.” I shake a leg for good measure, and she bursts out laughing.
“That's because you're shite at football, Hamish,” Harry adds, laughing with such pleasure that even Shannon and Amy join in. Harry's naught but a bundle of overagitated nerves, but he's got a goalie's mindset: Throw yourself in front of whatever obstacle life sends and head butt it right back.
A tight smile, the kind a baby makes when filling a nappy, crosses Davis's face. “We can't all be English Premier League soccer players, Hamish.”
Harry makes a very dangerous sound, and I can tell he's about to correct Davis. The poor bastard doesn't know the difference between English and Scottish Premier.
Or he does, and he's doing this to needle me.
See, that's where Davis and I are different. Because tossing out an insult like that doesn't do a damn thing to me.
But it reveals everything about him.
“Well,” I say, splaying my hand over my heart, “we can't all be MBA-toting executives like ye, Davis. And congratulations to ye, indeed. Ye and Amy are classmates, aye?”
“We are.”
“And ye have a big job lined up?”
“Yes. Unlike Amy, I've secured employment.”
Something pops in Amy's jaw. I believe her trigeminal nerve is trying to unwind itself, leap onto Davis, and strangle him.
“I'm in the middle of third interviews with Maartensi, Davis. You know that,” she corrects him.
That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
“I do,” he says in a patronizing tone, turning to Shannon. “I tried for a spot at your company, but HR said you're not hiring. Expansion hit a roadblock?”
“Hmmm,” she says deftly. “HR said that? Funny. We just brought on an assistant marketing director and someone in finance, both with new MBAs.” She gives him back a tight smile filled with more contempt than I knew Shannon had in her. “Sorry.”
A shadow falls over Davis's eyes. “It's fine. Every company makes mistakes.” He lets out a little laugh, as if she's in on his little joke-that's-not-a-joke.
“If I had an MBA,” I chime in, “I'd work in sports management and financing. That's where all the money is these days.”
“Entertainment?” he scoffs. “No. No one with any real smarts would ever go into entertainment to make big money in business. Crypto and international banking, that’s where it's at.”
Amy stiffens. “You know I'm interviewing with Maartensi in entertainment.”
“And you know I think you're making a mistake.” The guy won't shut up, but he also looks pained, as if he doesn't want to argue with her but he can't help himself. “But if it's a mistake, at least you're in with a great company and can transfer to something better in a year.”
“If yer so hot for crypto and international banking, Davis,” I ask, “why did ye apply to work at Grind It Fresh!?”
Davis's phone buzzes. He looks at the screen, ignoring my question. “My parents are wondering where I am,” he says to Amy. “I'll catch you later.”
“Mmm,” she says as he gives her hand a light squeeze, then rushes off. Her eyes follow him, her expression somewhere between a wince and a reckoning.
“Mmm,” Shannon says, one corner of her mouth tight.
“You're right,” Amy says with mild horror. “I can't believe I didn't notice it before.”
“They're subtle, these guys. Frog in a pot. Steve was like that.”
“Frog in a what?” I ask, moving closer to them as Harry wanders off toward the toilets.
Shannon tilts her head, looking like a brown-haired, brown-eyed version of Amy for a moment. Amy looks just like her dad, but Shannon's a blend of both parents.
“You know the old adage?” she asks. “How a frog would never jump into a pot of boiling water, but put it in a pot of cold water and slowly turn up the temperature...”
“Aye. Yer saying Davis is like that wi' Amy? Only the water is his need to tell her what to do?”
“Yes.”
“And how would ye know this, Shannon?”
“Because my fiancé before I met Declan was a controlling, arrogant, manipulative jerk.”
“Let me guess–with an MBA?”
“Bingo.”
“Glad ye found ma cousin, then. He might be a bit closed off, but he's no arsehole.”
“A ringing endorsement,” I hear from behind us as Declan, holding his daughter, wee Ellie, on one hip, finds our little group. “What the hell are you doing here, Hamish?”
“Teaching a girl's football clinic in town. Marie found out and texted me. Asked me to stop by.”
Amy's expression makes it clear the puzzle pieces just fell into place and Marie's due for a tongue-lashing later.
“You coming to Marie and Jason's house for dinner?” Declan asks. “There's a party back in Mendon.” He looks at his phone. “About a ninety minute drive.”
“Naw. Have to get back to the camp. But thank ye.” I eye Amy. “Could have been fun.”
Harry returns. “Your family just keeps expanding!” he says as Declan puts Ellie down.
“That's how family is, right?” I say, ruffling Ellie's dark hair.
“Hamish,” she says, her little pre-schooler language skills improving, the H at the beginning of my name distinct now. “Wanna race?”
Last Thanksgiving, I was stuck in the States and spent a crazy day with the Jacoby family at their house in Mendon. Racing little Ellie on the sidewalk was one of the highlights.
Chasing a live turkey out of their backyard was not.
“Not now, lass. But soon.”
Harry tugs on my shirt. “Gotta go, Hamish. You tapped me out of my twenty when you kissed her like that, and dinner starts soon at camp.”
Amy's face hardens at the mention of the bet.
“By the way, Hamish,” she says loudly, clearly not worried about making scenes now. “Thank you for kissing me.”
Shannon and Declan give us quite the look.
“Yer thanking me now? I thought ye were about to slap me.”
I'll take the expression of gratitude if it comes with another kiss, though. Can't say it, but I feel it.
“If you hadn't done that, Davis wouldn't have gotten jealous, and we wouldn't have realized he's a Code Raleigh.”
A furious look fills in Declan's features. “Steve Raleigh? He's here? What's he doing now?”
“No, not Steve,” Shannon assures him. “Amy saw a different side of Davis today.”
“Oh.” Declan shrugs. “Never met him before. He seemed fine. Uptight, but fine. Networked with me.”
Pain fills Amy's eyes, which she closes slowly, taking a long, deep breath.
“We were friends for a year. Then we were assigned to a team for a group project. The one we turned in right before Thanksgiving. When we came back from break, he hung out with me more. Asked me out a few weeks ago. I've been on guard against people using me for my connections to you,” she says looking at Declan. “But I thought Davis wasn't like that.”