“What?” Callum asked. “Nothing wrong with being old.” I sputtered on the scone and thumped my sternum so I wouldn’t choke. “Or a lesbian,” he added when I’d recovered. Wincing, I hacked into my napkin and took a sip of tea. “Callum, darlin’, you cannot call our gorgeous host old!” I cast an apologetic look at an unfazed Maeve. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much.”
