It was Friday night, the night of my date with James. It had been a long boring end of the week. Hayley had been busy with all the extra work of Magnus's staff. Mom and Dad were going out a lot, still gloating over their score with Magnus's estate. And James was busy at work after taking the long weekend the week before. So I watched tv, walked on the beach, not near Magnus's estate, and generally felt sorry for myself.

For a long, long time Braden had been my best friend. We had moved to Los Angeles together, did everything together, until he pulled away, doing other stuff, and then suddenly he was gone. I had been so busy mourning the loss of my fiancé, that I hadn't much noticed that I lost my friend too. Now I was lonely and hurting.

I heard somewhere that it takes eleven weeks to get over someone. I was on week five. I knew I would live on, but how, when? And the loss was so much bigger because I had lost everything — my Braden, my apartment, my business. It sucked.

All those years of building a career, and now, because I lost my shit over Braden's announcement — “Hey Katie, I've been thinking, I'd really rather not marry you in three weeks” — my business wasn't mine anymore. Because I was a screaming banshee. He called it assault. I called it, “Why the hell did you tell me you didn't love me anymore, that you loved someone else, while we were live on Facebook?”

That hella sucked.

All it had taken was a week of videos where Braden replayed my scene, while he showed the world claw marks on his cheek, and I was done. I think he added makeup to make it look worse. I could have, of course, refused to surrender. I could have carried on with a new channel, with three subscribers, who all shared my own last name, but to be honest, Mom and Dad weren't even YouTube watchers. They didn't know how to work anything but their Facebook feed. Starting over with zero subscribers felt like the end of the world. So this was me now: grown ass woman living in parents's house. Trying to find her next life path.

I spent a lot of time searching for shark teeth. Most of the time crying.

So when Friday rolled around I was pretty lonely and definitely ready for the date. James called to check in on Friday morning, and I agreed he could pick me up. We would go early, eat, talk, and then everyone else would show up once the live music started. We'd party with them and then, he hadn't asked, but I figured, I might spend the night, maybe, probably.

I got really dolled up. My makeup was on point. I was wearing strappy heels and a dress that was tight and short and showed a lot of skin. It was hot out, so yeah, skin was good. I looked epic.

Mom, who was really excited about my date with James, said, “Well, I guess you aren't planning to come home tonight.” Which made me roll my eyes, even though it was true. That thing a week ago, where I wanted to sleep with James so he could kiss me, tell me I was beautiful, and make me feel like someone might want me again? It was worse now. I was desperate for someone to think I was great. Even passable.

Probably, if I had a therapist on call, the therapist would tell me that going on a date this desperate for love was a terrible idea; that I needed to love myself first, but also — whatever. James liked me. Wanted me. Was going to buy me dinner. So yeah, this might not be smart, but it was going to happen.

James helped me into his truck with a joke about my short skirt. He had always owned big trucks for the statement of it. But now as a successful contractor, his truck was even bigger, requiring steps to climb into it. Worse on gas.

My Prius was a statement too, just not the right kind as far as he was concerned.

James was a regular at Sliders. On the way to our table he talked to just about everyone in the restaurant. I, on the other hand, was treated familiarly, but also delicately. I had been a local for a long time. My parents were very local. I had left though, the high-speed, see-ya-later, I'm out-of-here kind of left. And now I had changed from Local Girl Done Good to Local Girl Gone Wrong. The waitress said, “James, sweetie,” and kissed him on the cheek. “Who's this? Oh, is that you, Katie Sheffield? I barely recognized you, though the last time I saw you was on that vid—”

James interrupted, “I'd like to order a beer. How 'bout you, Katie?”

“Same.”

She walked away. I took a deep breath and tried some internal pep talking to get back to: sexy, glamorous, fabulous, confident.

“I'm glad you could do this tonight.” He leaned across the table and held my hand, gentle and sweet. “And I'm really glad you came back to town.”

“Thanks, it's beginning to feel good to be home.” I was lying, but I hoped it would be true someday.

He reminded me about a night together, when we went to a concert, bought a kitschy toilet plunger from a gas station, found $12, drank too much, and slept on a sand dune. Reminiscing with him about it got us both really laughing.

After a few minutes he said, “I missed your laugh.”

“James you're making me blush.”

He leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “What am I going to do, not tell you? You need to know.”

Then he reminded me of the time we played poker with the gang and then it turned into strip poker. The guys let Hayley, Emily, Tracy, and me win, while they were butt-naked wearing the pillows off Tracy's couch. James had worn Tupperware on his penis. It was a good memory, silly. Our food arrived and we ate and talked and laughed, and I'd have to say it was one of the better dates of my life. Easy and comfortable. He was charming, I had forgotten how much.

By the end of the dinner I was a little smitten, maybe enough smitten. I had some lovely flirtation going. He had some adoring looks. He was really good at this.

He received a text and glanced down at it. “Mike and Hayley are headed here now, with Quentin, Sarah, and a few others.” He reached out and held my hand again. “This is nice.”

“It is.”

“Just like the good old days.”

“The good old days before you messed around with the girl from Valdosta.” I'm not sure why I said it. It was supposed to be flirty and easy, but didn't sound as teasing and cute as I intended.

He looked up at me, still holding my hand. “You know, I was really young back then and stupid. I've grown up a lot. But also, I'd like to point out, you were leaving, Katie, headed off to school. You had been planning it for months, and what was I going to do, live here, take over Dad's business, and wait for you? Would you have come back? You were going away. So I left you first. Hoping it wouldn't hurt so bad.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

This was a point I never considered. I would need to do some serious reflecting. Was this the bullshit of an f-boy or the truth?

“I'm a changed man. I promise. Give us a chance, and you'll see.”

There was no time to think about any of this now because in walked the gang. They piled around our table, laughing, talking loudly, and disrupting the whole dining room. James ordered another round, and we carried our drinks out to the wide back porch with a separate bar surrounded by sand, a stage, and the beach beyond. A live band was set up to play.

Hayley yelled, “Woohoo! We'll be dancing tonight!”

We did dance. First me and Hayley. Then Hayley and Michael and me and James to the song, Banana Pancakes. It was a lovely rendition, and I had a nice buzz. Also, when we danced, James put his hand right on my hip and that was nice. The breeze was warm. Between songs you could hear the ocean waves crashing and see the sea grass lit by moonlight waving on the crests of the white dunes.

We were sitting at three tall tables pulled together with barstools all around, some full of friends, some empty. The tabletop was covered in beer bottles and cups and pitchers, empty, full, partially full. James excused himself to go to the bathroom. Michael went to the bar to get another round. Hayley and I were giggling and talking about how much fun we used to have here years ago when we would stash wine coolers on the beach and would steal out to chug them and sneak back to dance.

Suddenly Hayley stopped. “Oh my god, girl.”

I followed her eyes down the length of the boardwalk to the dark beach beyond, and there was a man, riding up the beach, on a horse. It was unmistakably Magnus. That was the only person it could be, the strangest sight in the world, but also, the way he rode that horse, completely reasonable, natural. He was lit by the moon, dark, big, his hair rustling in the wind. Magnus. On a horse.

Hayley asked, “Is he on a horse? Did he just ride a horse up to Sliders?”

He dismounted in the sand, tied the reigns to the end of the railing, and headed up the path toward us. He was wearing a black linen shirt with a collar, buttoned up the front, untucked. With his kilt. His sword was strapped on his back. He had a knife hanging from a belt. Hayley asked, “Is he walking this way?”

I lost my ability to speak in sentences, or to have logical answers. I gulped, straightened in my chair, and tried to pretend like I didn't notice, but oh man I was noticing. From the periphery I could see he was looking directly at me. He walked straight to our table. It was all very excruciatingly slow, but also surprisingly, totally discombobulating, how quickly he appeared.

He bowed his head. “Good evening, Mistress Hayley.” Then he leaned in and spoke to me “I wanted tae — I was unsure how tae speak tae ye, Mistress Kaitlyn. You went afore takin' your leave.”

He was standing in front of the space that had been James's seat, now pushed back and vacated, looking directly at me, and Hayley was staring from his face to mine, eyes wide. He seemed, what is the word, intent.

I said, “I thought you were busy, so I didn't want to bother you. Is Lady Mairead better?”

“She is healing well. Her nurse, Madame Macklinberg, is excellent for comfort and health.”

Hayley interceded, drawing his attention from me. “I'm glad she's working out — how did you find us?”

“I asked Chef Zach if he might help me in locating Mistress Kaitlyn, and he directed me here.” He returned to speaking solely to me. “He stated ye were oft here on a Saturday night.”

I inhaled, because there was some seriously awesome smell emanating from the shadowy darkness that was Magnus, because he was hot and handsome, but he smelled faintly of the back room of a candle shop.

Hayley seemed amused by his focus on me. She asked, “Speaking of Chef Zach, he's almost a brother to me, what do you think about his cooking?”

Magnus smiled and turned his attention to her. “Ah, Chef Zach is a master of tastes. I am well pleased with the meals he conjures. And Mistress Emma takes verra good care of me.”

I felt a small pang of jealousy that someone else was taking 'verra good' care of him.

He returned his attention to me. “I wanted tae ask if ye—”

Just then Michael returned to the table, passing out bottles. He seemed amused by the appearance of the Scotsman.

Then James walked up. He paused with his hand on the back of his chair, grinning incredulously. “We meet again, first in my house, now in my chair.” James slid his barstool back, closer to me, sat down on it, and took my hand.

Magnus stole a tiny, almost imperceptible, glance at my hand now encapsulated in James's and moved farther away from me to the other side of James.

James's smile broadened. “I know we met the other night, my name is James Cook. Mike, go grab our friend here a beer. And remind me your name?”

“Much obliged. I am Magnus Campbell.” They shook hands while James did this thing where he appraised Magnus down his nose, as if Magnus was beneath him. I had seen James do this many times. It was a move he had been using since he was thirteen and the most popular kid at school, because half of popularity was letting everyone know you were at the top, and they were at the bottom. James moved his hand to my thigh, which was mostly bare because my dress was so short.

Magnus glanced down at James's hand.

Michael returned with a beer for Magnus, they were introduced, Magnus was offered a chair, and everyone resumed their seats.

Hayley said, “Magnus was just going to ask Katie a question.”

I noted to myself to kill her later and looked down at my beer.

“Ah, do tell,” said James, rubbing my thigh.

Everyone waited for Magnus to speak.

“I hae learned from my guards there are legal impediments tae riding my horse on the roads and if tis necessary for me tae travel farther, I will need tae acquire a car.”

Magnus was speaking directly, intently, to me again.

And James was watching him, his face even more incredulous, appraising, and arrogant.

I said, “You want me to help you buy a—”

James interrupted. “Have you seen Katie's car? It's a Prius, it barely even has a horsepower rating.” I rolled my eyes at Hayley. She giggled. James said, “A man like Magnus Campbell needs a real vehicle. I've got the day off tomorrow, I'll take you to the Ford dealership over in Jacksonville. I can introduce you to John. He'll get you set up right away.”

Magnus appraised James in return. “I would be verra indebted to ye Master Cook.”

“No worries, we're friends, right? You've been to my home. You're a friend of my girl. We're sharing a beer. It's all good, besides I don't mind a good car buying excursion.”

I took a deep breath. “I don't think Magnus has a license though, right? To drive?”

“A man like Magnus Campbell doesn't have a license? Do you know how to drive?”

Magnus shook his head. “Nae, I dinna ken.”

“I'll take that as a negative. Okay, car first, then we teach you to drive. What are you doing tomorrow, Mike? Want to drive to Jax with me and my friend Magnus, to buy him a car he can't drive?”

Michael was finding the whole thing very amusing. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Magnus. “James and I will pick you up about 10:30.”

Magnus said, “Twould be verra helpful. I look forward tae our journey.”

James pushed back his seat. “Stay awhile, but Katie promised me a dance and our song just came on.”

I asked, “What song is that?”

“I'll fix you. Cold play. Remember prom?” He pulled me to the dance floor. We rocked back and forth, the music was lovely, the breeze was warm. If this moment had happened before Magnus arrived I might have thought it was very romantic and sweet, but now it all felt so proprietary, like James was establishing ownership, and sorry, but I hadn't agreed to anything.

When we returned to the table, Magnus was laughing with Hayley and Michael.

“What's so funny?”

Hayley said, “Michael was acting out how nervous Zach is about his new chef job. Apparently whenever Magnus asks for something specific from Scotland, Zach googles recipes in a panic. He's scared to death he's not good enough.”

Magnus chuckled. “When I met Chef Zach, I was close to starv'd. He might hae burnt the food tae blackened chips, and I would hae still devoured it. Pray, don't divulge this tae him, I enjoy his cooking verra much, but I also appreciate his enthusiasm.”

James leaned in and started telling me about a new project he was working on. I suffered, missing out on the better, more interesting, more fun conversation at the other end of the table.

I was fascinated by Magnus, but also on a date with James.

And James had been my thing for so long, that even now, when he was acting jealous and uncool, I was capable of letting it pass. He was insecure. About me. And like Hayley said, maybe I needed to give him a second chance. Especially in light of this new news — he had been unfaithful back in the day because he was upset I was leaving him. I had promised to come back, but would I have? I would have met Braden. Would it have made a difference if I had been in a long distance relationship with James at the time? If the past had been different would my present be the same?

For the next couple of beers, James continued being testy with Magnus, and taking up all my attention. Then when he left for the bathroom again, Magnus stood to leave. I watched him go, wishing I could talk to him for a minute more. Then I figured, what the hell, and jumped up to follow him to the boardwalk. “Magnus, wait up.”

He pulled short. He was tall and imposing, but his eyes were soft when he looked at me, causing my heart to race. I wondered if I could simply rise to my tiptoes and kiss him, maybe climb on the back of his horse and ride away down the beach with him, like in a romance novel.

Sadly, there were real problems with this scenario.

First, he hadn't given me any indication beyond 'being hot' that he wanted me to kiss him.

Second, I didn't know anything about horses. I could imagine that the whole thing would be much more awkward than romantic.

“You okay with going to Jacksonville tomorrow with James?”

“Aye,” his eyes had a mischievous twinkle. “He seems a braw fellow, I greatly look forward tae a day in his company.”

“Yeah, about that. He's not usually like that. I think he's worried about our friendship. And you know, just—”

“Mistress Kaitlyn, you daena need tae explain him tae me. I might nae know how tae work things, but my whole life I hae lived with men, brothers, uncles, cousins. I understand the workings of a man such as James Cook.”

“Okay. Good.”

He watched my face for a moment. “I'll see you on the morrow Mistress Kaitlyn.” He turned down the boardwalk to his horse. I watched him, entranced, as he mounted it to ride south down the beach.

When I returned to the table I told James I had a terrible headache and needed to go home. There was a lot going on that I needed to think about. I kept him from being too disappointed with some passionate kissing and a promise that I'd meet him the next night for dinner at the restaurant under the bridge.