A few minutes later I was leaning up against the outside garden wall, arms crossed over my chest, still seething. The hot air streaming in and out of my flared nostrils turned to fog the moment it hit the chilly air making me look like an angry bull from a Saturday morning cartoon. I wanted to throw something, to scream, to jump up and down. Yet all I could seem to do was rigidly hold up the wall, hissing and cursing under my breath.
For ten years I’d dreamt of telling Jocelyn off. Of letting him know exactly what I thought of him, in as colorful a choice of language as I knew. Now that it was over, I waited for the endorphin rush of success. For the jump up and down, punching your fists in the air, take on the world victory dance, complete with Rocky-style theme music playing in the background. But thus far, all I had were throbbing temples, cold toes, a sore jaw from clenching my teeth, and the sound track of a bird cawing, that may or may not have been choking on something.
Not exactly what I’d imagined.
“It’s cold out here,” came the voice of someone I’d felt before I’d heard. “You should have a coat on,” Alex said, eyeing my thin shirt and bare arms.
“I’m fine,” I said, as he came up beside me. “My internal temperature is more than making up the difference.”
“What happened?”
I huffed and pushed away from the wall, running my hands angrily through my hair which was now damp with fog. “Jocelyn and I…”
“I know,” he said, when I didn’t finish. “I actually overheard the tail end of it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, sorry. Cormac too. We were on our way to Jocelyn’s office, and well,” he gave me a sympathetic smile, “your voice carries. But don’t worry, Cormac would never say anything. What I meant was, what started it?”
“What started it? Oh, nothing much, just Jocelyn basically forbidding me from being with you.”
“What?”
“Yep. But don’t worry, it’s not you. I’m not allowed to be with anyone.”
“He said that?”
“In no uncertain terms.” I scowled down at the gravel pathway. “Who the hell does he think he is? What on earth makes him think he has a say in my love life?” I started kicking at the rocks, as my rage reared up again, clawing at my chest. “All of a sudden I’m a Holder, so now he owns me? The hell he does! He probably doesn’t even remember when my birthday is, yet he thinks he can play ‘father figure’? Fat damn chance! Any right he had to be the guy sitting on the front porch with a shotgun waiting for me to come home from a date was forfeited over ten years ago!”
“Were you all farmers in Kansas at some point?” Alex asked, suppressing a smile.
Suddenly I was actually picturing Jocelyn in overalls and a straw hat, sitting on a wooden rocker with a double barrel in his lap, and I started to smirk. I knew that was the point of his comment, but it still pissed me off. “I’m trying to be mad over here!” I snapped at him, still smiling in spite of myself.
“I’m sorry,” he said gravely, putting on his serious face. “Go ahead.”
But it was over. He’d effectively killed my tirade. I let my head hang down, blowing out the rest of my tension with a heavy sigh, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
“Jerk!” I grinned, shivering.
He smiled, slipping his jacket off and wrapping it around me. “Anytime, leannán,” he said stepping up behind me, hugging me against his chest.
“What?”
“Leannán,” he repeated. “It’s an endearment, like sweetheart or darling. Speaking of which, I hear you’re in Gaelic class.”
“Yeah, not for long,” I grumbled.
“Becca…” he chided.
“It’s so boring,” I whined. “I got the text and the workbook, I’ll just teach myself.”
“No, you won’t,” he laughed, shaking his head.
“Excuse me!” I looked over my shoulder at him indignantly. “I happen to have graduated high school at fifteen, with a 5.0, and an ACT score of 31! I can most certainly teach myself a language!”
He continued to smile at me, amused. “I didn’t say you can’t, I said you won’t. There’s a difference.”
OK, he was probably right, but I wasn’t about to admit it. I changed topics. “Why do I even need it? You speak Gaelic, not to mention the oh-so-wonderful Professor Ingle,” I sassed, using a