was crazy, but it was his dollar and this way I wouldn’t miss an episode so it was okay with me.
We belted in and began the twelve-hour flight to Edinburgh. We read, watched several movies, and talked. I had tried to assist the flight attendant with the meal, but Garrett held me back. “That galley’s no good. Leave it to the attendant. You’ll have a full kitchen at Mum’s.”
“Okay.” The flight attendant’s laminated badge had reminded me of something I’d been meaning to ask him. “Tell me about the laminated card in the fish tank.” I pulled my blanket closer to ward off the chill cabin air.
Garrett shifted in his chair. “It’s a reminder.”
“That you live in a fishbowl?” I looked out the tall oval window as I asked, at the white fluffy clouds below us.
“Something like that. And that some women can’t be trusted.” His face stilled. “Present company excluded of course. I had some problems with American kelpies messing with my head.”
Karla Quintos. Ashley had told me how Karla had set Garrett up to reveal some personal information about his friend Caz. Then Karla had aired it, making Garrett look as if he’d revealed Caz’s private life on purpose. Sucked for them, but in a way it had gotten me this job since Garrett gave it to me as a favor for Ashley.
A phone rang and Garrett lifted a concealed receiver from the armrest. He shook his head. “I have to be back on set Monday.” He covered the mouthpiece. “You have to be on set Monday too, definitely?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we do one to two rehearsals per week and the show takes one day to tape.”
Garrett removed his hand from the mouthpiece and spoke into the phone. “We can’t. I’m not sending her down to London. She’s my chef.”
London. I sat up. “What’s going on?”
Garrett shook his head. “I’ll put you on speaker.”
Caz’s rich British voice joined us in the cabin. “She’s your chef. It’s your right to feel possessive about her time, but I told Ash you were coming to the UK and she wants to see her.”
“I don’t feel possessive. But, now that you point it out, that makes a lot of sense. Sax ate one of her dishes and wanted to make her an offer to work for him. It pissed me off.”
I raised my eyebrows. That was news to me. What kind of offer?
“Don’t let that violin player steal your chef,” Caz said.
“I’m right here, guys.”
“Hi, Marissa.”
“Hi, Caz.”
“I thought I’d surprise Ashley with you.”
“I’m not a puppy.”
“I know,” Caz said. “You’re a fellow Texan who maybe can appreciate her unjust comments on fine British cuisine.”
I laughed. “I’d love to see Ashley. But it’ll have to be in August. Like Garrett said, we’re only here for the weekend.” I raised my eyebrows at Garrett. “I don’t even know what my days off are.”
“No days off,” Garrett said.
Caz interrupted what would have been a snippy response from me. “How would your Mum feel about two more guests for the wedding?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I said, happiness in my voice at the thought of seeing my best friend.
“Bring your kilt,” Garrett said.
***
A silver limo picked us up at the airfield, and I was too jetlagged to get worked up over the fact that I’d landed in a foreign country. I stayed in my semi-asleep state until the car rolled through double gates and took a long drive past lush green fields up to a grey stone mansion. I didn’t have the vocabulary to describe it. It wasn’t a castle. Chateau maybe? I snapped a photo with my phone as the car pulled to a stop and we got out.
The morning washed over me, cooler and more humid than LA. Garrett paused in the driveway, staring up at the house, his shoulders tense; then he started up the path. Before we got to the door, it opened and a middle-aged couple, along with four guys roughly aged fifteen to twenty-five came out—his parents and his brothers, I assumed. They all spoke at once, and it was like
We belted in and began the twelve-hour flight to Edinburgh. We read, watched several movies, and talked. I had tried to assist the flight attendant with the meal, but Garrett held me back. “That galley’s no good. Leave it to the attendant. You’ll have a full kitchen at Mum’s.”
“Okay.” The flight attendant’s laminated badge had reminded me of something I’d been meaning to ask him. “Tell me about the laminated card in the fish tank.” I pulled my blanket closer to ward off the chill cabin air.
Garrett shifted in his chair. “It’s a reminder.”
“That you live in a fishbowl?” I looked out the tall oval window as I asked, at the white fluffy clouds below us.
“Something like that. And that some women can’t be trusted.” His face stilled. “Present company excluded of course. I had some problems with American kelpies messing with my head.”
Karla Quintos. Ashley had told me how Karla had set Garrett up to reveal some personal information about his friend Caz. Then Karla had aired it, making Garrett look as if he’d revealed Caz’s private life on purpose. Sucked for them, but in a way it had gotten me this job since Garrett gave it to me as a favor for Ashley.
A phone rang and Garrett lifted a concealed receiver from the armrest. He shook his head. “I have to be back on set Monday.” He covered the mouthpiece. “You have to be on set Monday too, definitely?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we do one to two rehearsals per week and the show takes one day to tape.”
Garrett removed his hand from the mouthpiece and spoke into the phone. “We can’t. I’m not sending her down to London. She’s my chef.”
London. I sat up. “What’s going on?”
Garrett shook his head. “I’ll put you on speaker.”
Caz’s rich British voice joined us in the cabin. “She’s your chef. It’s your right to feel possessive about her time, but I told Ash you were coming to the UK and she wants to see her.”
“I don’t feel possessive. But, now that you point it out, that makes a lot of sense. Sax ate one of her dishes and wanted to make her an offer to work for him. It pissed me off.”
I raised my eyebrows. That was news to me. What kind of offer?
“Don’t let that violin player steal your chef,” Caz said.
“I’m right here, guys.”
“Hi, Marissa.”
“Hi, Caz.”
“I thought I’d surprise Ashley with you.”
“I’m not a puppy.”
“I know,” Caz said. “You’re a fellow Texan who maybe can appreciate her unjust comments on fine British cuisine.”
I laughed. “I’d love to see Ashley. But it’ll have to be in August. Like Garrett said, we’re only here for the weekend.” I raised my eyebrows at Garrett. “I don’t even know what my days off are.”
“No days off,” Garrett said.
Caz interrupted what would have been a snippy response from me. “How would your Mum feel about two more guests for the wedding?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I said, happiness in my voice at the thought of seeing my best friend.
“Bring your kilt,” Garrett said.
***
A silver limo picked us up at the airfield, and I was too jetlagged to get worked up over the fact that I’d landed in a foreign country. I stayed in my semi-asleep state until the car rolled through double gates and took a long drive past lush green fields up to a grey stone mansion. I didn’t have the vocabulary to describe it. It wasn’t a castle. Chateau maybe? I snapped a photo with my phone as the car pulled to a stop and we got out.
The morning washed over me, cooler and more humid than LA. Garrett paused in the driveway, staring up at the house, his shoulders tense; then he started up the path. Before we got to the door, it opened and a middle-aged couple, along with four guys roughly aged fifteen to twenty-five came out—his parents and his brothers, I assumed. They all spoke at once, and it was like
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