Free Off Kilter by Donna Kauffman

reasons. Surely she didn’t care what he thought of her? As a photographer, or as a woman.
    “We’re a tightly knit group. We rely on each other,” he said as his gaze returned to hers. “It’s like that on a wee island. Has to be.”
    “I understand that, but correct me if I’m wrong—in the grand scheme of things, you’ve only known Katie McAuley slightly longer than you’ve known me.”
    “Aye, ‘tis true. But … it’s different with Katie. Spend any time with her, and it’s like ye’ve known her yer whole life. Everyone here feels it.”
    “Good people skills, then,” she said dryly, and earned a smile.
    “Something like that. We’re all close, but we’re not close-minded. We have our differences here, but we’re accepting of new people, new ideas. We’d never have survived otherwise. We respect and hold each other in high esteem, or we certainly try to.”
    “Yes, I believe I witnessed a whole raft of that esteem the other day, while you were undressing for me.”
    She’d meant the comment to be amusing, but perhaps her delivery was even rustier than she’d thought. He folded his arms and rocked back a little on his heels. How it was that all the mud and muck made him look sexy, she had no idea. She had a lot of personal experience with mud and muck and there was usually nothing remotely attractive about it.
    “What was it that put you off me?” he asked, sounding surprisingly sincere, like it really mattered.
    “Is it so hard for you to take, having one less woman giggling and blushing when she’s around you?”
    He grinned. “I’m a likable guy. What can I say? Except to you.”
    She smiled briefly. “You’ll get over the loss, I’m sure. Since you seem to have pretty much the same impression of me, I can’t imagine why my thoughts on you matter one way or the other.”
    He lifted a shoulder, continued to regard her with that dimple-flashing, half smile of his. “I don’t know that they do. Although I admit I’d be interested to know if you’ve got a giggle in you.” He just laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Mostly, I’m … curious. It’s no’ an ego thing. You’re right, it’s healthy enough, with or without your admiration of my manly bits.”
    She couldn’t help it, she laughed. More like a snort. But still.
Dammit.
“Yes, well, given I chose your manly bits exclusively as potential daydream fodder for women everywhere from ages sixteen to sixty, I’m fairly certain your ego is fully intact, if not additionally inflated. If you do make the calendar, your throngs of admirers will merely grow to an international level. World domination is surely only a centerfold away after that.”
    She paused because he was frowning. “What?” she asked. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not going to eat that up. You’re a red-blooded man who is quite well aware of his charms.”
    “Aye. Believe it or not, I’d rather my charms, as you call them, weren’t put on display for the masses. The idea of hangingon walls in places ye dinnae even know of, being ogled by God only knows who … that’s a wee bit odd to contemplate, now isn’t it?”
    “Are you honestly telling me this was some kind of sacrifice for you?”
    “Did I, at any point, look like I was having a good time? Was I encouraging you in any way, other than to mercifully get it over with as soon as possible?”
    “You loved playing the crowd and—”
    “I was trying to get them to leave!”
    She thought about that for a moment, and realized he had a point.
    He walked closer to her, until she could see his green eyes quite clearly through all the muck still splattering his face and neck. It must have been the contrast with all that mud that made them seem so … mesmerizing.
    “You don’t know what to think about me, do you? Because you already had your mind made up on what kind of man I was before we even got started. I’d have expected you, of all people, with your background, to be more open-minded, to