”Malcolm,” he said under his breath, “as you are a friend, don’t do that again.”
Malcolm’s brows soared. “Good Lord, Kit, what’s eating you? Can’t a man even pay a lady the compliment of noticing?”
”No.”
Margo just put her hands over her face.
”She’s, uh …” Oh, hell…. “She’s my grandkid.”
Malcolm rocked back on his chair and stared. “Margo’s your granddaughter?”
Conversation cut short throughout the bar. Kit felt the flush start in his neck and work its way up into his hairline. Margo risked a peek, then groaned and hid her face again.
”Well, I’ll be… suckered.” Malcolm Moore was grinning like the proverbial village idiot “Miss Margo, you can’t imagine what a wonderful surprise this is.”
The buzz of conversation picked up again, livelier than ever.
”I, uh,” Margo floundered for words. She shot a stricken glance at Kit, then settled for a faint, “Thanks.”
Kit glowered at Malcolm. “What I’m trying to do, here, is keep her alive. She wants to scout.”
Malcolm’s grin widened, which Kit would’ve bet was physically impossible. “Really? What was it you said the other day
”Never mind what I said the other day. I’m training her. Maybe. If-” he turned a severe glare on Margo “-she listens and learns.”
”I’m listening ! So show me, already”
”Good.” Kit drew a breath and downed half his water in one gulp, wishing it were something stronger. “Malcolm, here, has scouted a couple of times.”
Malcolm nodded “Exactly twice. Then I switched to guiding.”
Margo rested her chin on her hands. “Why?”
Malcolm chuckled. “Because I wanted to live to see thirty.”