The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,56

succeeded. “Are you”—I lowered my voice to a whisper—”are you telling me you’re a…virgin?”

When he merely lifted a brow, my jaw dropped.

“And you’re celibate?”

He shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as waiting for the one—but yeah. I guess you could say that.”

My mind was blown. Call me judgmental, but I’d just assumed with a twin like Baylor and considering he was a gorgeous college guy in his twenties that he’d be sowing his wild oats like the other ninety percent of the male population. Silly me.

I sat back in my chair, needing a moment, then looked to him.

“I don’t have to put this in the article,” I said.

“Why not?” he said. “I’m not ashamed of it, Honor, and you told me the questions would be personal.”

Yeah, I thought, but not that personal.

“And I’m guessing from your reaction it would make a good story.”

Was he kidding? Walter would go crazy over this and so would pretty much every girl on campus. “It would make a great story. But really, you don’t—”

“Alright then,” Chase said, cutting me off. “You have any other questions for me?”

“Only a few more,” I said.

“Okay, shoot,” he said.

The rest of the questions went by in a snap. And why wouldn’t they? Chase had already given me way more insight into him then I could’ve ever hoped for. My profile of him for The Howler was going to be epic.

Afterward, both of us kind of nodded and went straight to our books. Chase was so right. Outlander really was one of the best books of the century—heck probably of all time. The characters were just so well-drawn, and you couldn’t help but care for them. We were about two hours into the drive, and I’d gotten to the part where Jamie had fallen off his horse, and Claire mended his arm, when the first yawn hit. After reading ten more pages, my eyelids were starting to feel heavy. My sleepless night finally caught up with me. Placing the book into my lap, I leaned my head against the window, letting the coolness seep into my skin. The conversations of the guys on the bus, the crisp sound of Chase turning the pages, it all became dull background noise. My eyes closed as the rhythm of the bus lulled me to sleep.

Archer was in my dream.

And I knew I had to be dreaming—because he was wearing a kilt.

I hadn’t thought anything could compare to seeing him in that suit. But I’d been mistaken. His whole form filled out the kilt quite nicely, the green, blue and white plaid hugging his waist, his strong, muscular thighs on display. On top, he wore a loose white shirt that showcased his broad shoulders. It was slit down the middle allowing a hint of skin to peek through. And was it me, or was his hair just a touch longer? It was definitely messier, tousled and windswept like he’d been out riding over the hills.

Yeah, he was gorgeous (just like Jamie Fraser). And he rocked a kilt better than anyone I’d ever seen (maybe even better than Jamie).

Dream me sighed as he opened his mouth, ready to hear his Scottish burr, but it never came.

“Mind if I cut in?” he said in a completely normal voice.

I should’ve been disappointed, but the deep, smooth sound did things to me, with or without the accent.

Dream me shook her head, and he took a step closer.

“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to come back here.”

That didn’t sound like me—sounded a lot like Chase actually—but it was close to what I’d been thinking, so I didn’t dwell on it too much.

“I was encouraged to keep my distance, but it looks like that’s not happening,” Archer said. “You mind if I sit?”

Frowning, I looked down at the grassy meadow, shivering as I felt a gust of air hit my arms.

“Of course not.” Again, the voice sounded distinctly different than my own or Archer’s. “I need to use the bathroom anyway. Just didn’t want to leave her here by herself.” After a pause, it added, “She’s really great, you know.”

Archer grunted. “That your way of telling me you want her, too?”

A choked sound then, “Are you seriously asking me this?”

“That’s not an answer,” he said.

A laugh then, “No man, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is: Don’t screw it up.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Another gust of wind blew by, and I felt the goosebumps rise on my skin. Dream me sat next