Page 36 of Blazing Joysticks
Keir chuckled, guiding her to a seat. “Wait till you see the cutlery drawer. We could fund a small country with the silver alone.”
Vivianne, overhearing, laughed as she took her place at the head of the table. “Oh, darling, that’s nothing. You should see the vault downstairs. I swear, half the crown jewels ended up there after a particularly wild night in 1705.”
Cat’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking, right?”
“Of course, she is,” Harris rumbled, winking at Cat. “It was 1706.”
As servers began bringing out the first course, Amelia leaned across the table, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, Cat, has my dear brother shown you his baby pictures yet? Because let me tell you, there’s this one of him in the bathtub?—”
“Amelia,” Keir growled, his cheeks flushing.
“Oh come on, Keir,” Cat teased, “I bet you were adorable. All chubby cheeks and tiny claws.”
Harris let out a booming laugh. “Chubby is right! Nearly sank the tub. Took three of us to lift him out.”
“Dad!” Keir protested, but he couldn’t hide his smile.
Vivianne chimed in, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, but you should have seen him when he first tried to fly. Bounced right off the castle walls like a rubber ball. We had to put padding all around the courtyard.”
Cat nearly choked on her wine, giggling. “Please tell me there’s video.”
“Even better,” Amelia grinned, pulling out her phone. “Magical paintings that move. Like in Harry Potter, but way cooler.”
As Amelia pulled up the images, showing a chubby dragon hatchling bouncing comically off stone walls, the table erupted in laughter. Keir buried his face in his hands, but Cat could see the smile he was trying to hide.
“I hate you all,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.
“No, you don’t,” Cat said, patting his arm. “You love us. Especially me, because I now have excellent blackmail material.”
As the laughter died down, Vivianne turned to Cat with a warm smile. “Now, dear, tell us more about your work. Keir says you’re absolutely brilliant with technology.”
Cat blushed, but before she could respond, Keir jumped in. “Brilliant doesn’t even begin to cover it. You should see her code. It’s like... like...”
“Poetry?” Harris suggested.
“A symphony?” Amelia offered.
“The Sistine Chapel ceiling, but with ones and zeros,” Keir finished proudly.
Cat rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Great, now I’m going to have performance anxiety every time I open my laptop.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Harris said, raising his glass. “In this family, we appreciate all forms of art. Even the kind that makes computers do the cha-cha.”
As the main course arrived—a veritable feast of traditional Scottish dishes—Cat eyed the food warily. “So, do I need to sign a waiver before eating this, or...”
Keir laughed, serving her a small portion. “It’s not as scary as it looks. Think of it as... Scottish sausage surprise.”
“The surprise being that it’s actually delicious,” Amelia added, already digging in.
Cat took a tentative bite, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “Huh. Not bad. Kinda like a spicy oatmeal.”
“That’s my girl,” Vivianne beamed. “Now, who wants to tell Cat about the time Keir accidentally set fire to his own kilt during the Highland games?”
Keir groaned. “Mother, please?—”
But it was too late. The story came out, complete with wild hand gestures from Amelia and sound effects from Harris. By the end, Cat was laughing so hard, tears streamed down her face.
“I can’t believe you singed off your own eyebrows,” she gasped between giggles.