A Midsummer Night's Romp by Katie MacAlister

people say about me than pretend everyone loves me. Besides, there’s dickwad, and then there’s dickwad. My friend Cankles said it about her brother, but he’s actually kinda nice. Cankles is my English friend, not one of my friends back home in BC. Her real name is Catrin, but everyone calls her Cankles. I met her last month when I moved in with Gran. I’ll need a ridinghelmet, but I can wear my jeans and ankle boots. You don’t mind getting me a new helmet, do you?”
    â€œNot if it means keeping your brain from being scrambled,” he said quickly, enjoying her stream of consciousness. It gave him much insight into her personality, quirky as it was. “Just keep in mind that if I hear you’re annoying Lorina, the lessons will be off.”
    Her eyes widened until he thought they might pop out. “I’m not going to annoy her! I
like
her!”
    â€œSee that you remember that.” He glanced back at the barn full of diggers. They were still going at it, which annoyed him. He wanted to talk to Lorina again.
    â€œGran’s having a lie-down, as she calls it, but it’s really a nap. She gets worn-out fast. When’s the baroness coming back to Ainslie? Gran says I have to watch my manners around her, although I think that’s silly because it’s not like I’m a baboon! I
know
how to be polite.”
    â€œWhich baroness?” he asked, absently watching Lorina as she took a few notes during the talk by the production heads. His eyes narrowed when she leaned over to make a comment in the ear of the man next to her.
    â€œThe one who’s your mom, not the new one, although I suppose she’s nice, too.”
    He turned at the note of worry in his daughter’s voice, giving her a little one-armed hug. “Alice is lovely, and she told me herself that she is thrilled to meet her niece, and can’t wait to get back home so she can do just that. And likewise my mother is anxious to see you again. You may not remember it, but you did meet her about five or six years ago.”
    Cressida scrunched up her nose in thought. “I kind of remember it, but not really well. None of my other friends have a grandmother who is a baroness, which makes Cankles crazy, because she’s got the hots for Prince Harry, andshe thinks you’re like royalty or something because you have a castle and Uncle Elliott has a title and stuff.”
    Roger d’Aspry continued to drone on in his self-important manner. Now the man next to Lorina was whispering something to her that had her stifling a laugh. Gunner frowned at that.
    â€œWho’s that?” Cressy asked suddenly.
    â€œWho is who?”
    â€œThat man who’s necking with Lorina.”
    â€œThey aren’t necking,” Gunner said quickly, a bit surprised by the spurt of anger that followed the words. He reminded himself that although Lorina was pleasing on the eyes, and had a sense of humor he enjoyed, he had never been a possessive man, and he’d be damned if he started down that path now. “They’re just speaking to each other quietly.”
    â€œHuh. Looks like necking to me.”
    He turned a suspicious eye on her. “And what would you know about that, mademoiselle? You just got done telling me you weren’t interested in having a boyfriend.”
    She giggled, and punched him in the arm. “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize necking when I see it. Did I hurt your foot when I sat on you?”
    He adjusted once again to her quicksilver conversational offerings. “No.”
    â€œWhen will you be able to walk around again?”
    â€œMost likely next week.”
    â€œCankles said she thought it was stupid of you to break your foot in the first place.”
    â€œIt was stupid—I could tell the balcony was rusted, but I thought I could get a couple of shots without anything happening. I was wrong, a fact I’d like you to