Page 1 of Kilt Trip

1

Addie Macrae’s internal compass was irreparably damaged. For all the traveling she did, and the relative ease of navigating a city with English street signs, Edinburgh’s jigsaw puzzle of gray-toned buildings and twisting streets left her head spinning.

Under different circumstances she might’ve been swept away by the city’s lantern-topped streetlights and cobblestone roads, but not while the architecture and charm conspired against her. She’d missed a full thirty minutes of her newest client’s city tour, the last one before their meeting tomorrow.

If she was going to turn The Heart of the Highlands around, revamp their tours, and pull them from the brink of financial ruin, she needed to know what she was walking into. The thrumming in her chest slipped into the realm of heart palpitations, one tier below racing for a connecting flight.

Which she’d already done today.

Striding along another street lined with red and teal storefronts, she tugged at her collar, letting the chilled air slice through the humidity inside her plasticky yellow raincoat. Nothing in sight resembled a staircase at the bottom of Calton Hill—the starting point mentioned on the website.

Gigi, the irritatingly sunny voice of Google Maps, shouted, “Turn left.” She was hopelessly laggy, sending Addie in one direction, then two minutes later changing her mind.

Addie followed another skinny tunnel between buildings constructed long before the invention of motor vehicles. It deposited her into an unmarked courtyard, paths fanning out in all directions.

“Rerouting.”

Grinding her teeth, Addie restarted Gigi, tripped over a cobblestone, and cursed.

Side-eyeing the red battery icon on her phone, she checked the time again. Dammit. At this rate, she’d miss the entire itinerary.

Cars rumbled by on the wrong side of the road as she wound through the bustling downtown and crossed the construction zone that was the North Bridge. A light drizzle began to fall, dripping from her hood and curling the end of her blond braid. Great.

A low brick wall to her left did nothing to contain the old-growth trees threatening to hop the street. She walked right past a staircase tucked between the disheveled, leafless forest before backing up.

Begging to be missed, a miniature blue sign attached to a lamppost pointed up the stairs to Calton Hill. Addie shook her head. How were tourists expected to find this?

Her annoyance drowned out any relief at finding the tour.

As she headed toward the steps, her phone rang. Boss Babe lit up the screen. Devika filled all the roles in Addie’s life: best friend, coworker, mother hen.

They were kindred spirits—always stayed late, snuck champagne and slippers into the office to work through the holidays, and sent each other postcards from airports around the world. Every time one of them got to a new destination, they checked in. Like the lone-women-travelers’ buddy system.

In the haze of lost luggage and misdirection, Addie had forgotten. She answered, “Sorry. I’m here safely, although sans suitcase.” Her green hardside—scuffed, covered in stickers, and affectionately referred to as Frank—had taken an impromptu side trip without her permission.

“That blows. Do they know when it’ll be back?”

Addie started up the stairs, dragging her fingers over the sculpted lion’s head at the base of the shiny black handrail. A tower in the shape of an old-fashioned spyglass rose out of the knotted trees above her. “Hopefully tonight, or I’ll be wearing my airport-acquired rain gear to my meeting.”

Devika laughed. “What’s on the books for today?”

The answer to their running joke was, of course, always, work. Six months ago, her mentor, Marc, started a new agency—Dawsey Travel Consulting—and took Devika and Addie with him. It could hardly be called poaching when she would follow them to the ends of the earth. Addie wanted to be them when she grew up.

Devika was a powerhouse karaoke song. She brought people to their feet with her magnetic presence and got shit done like a boss.

Marc was quieter, more serious, but in an industry full of power-hungry men, he always listened, remembered vegetarian and gluten-free options, and cut off interrupters with a stern “Addie wasn’t done talking.” He was the one person who’d taken a chance on her when she’d been at her lowest, who’d taught her how to keep moving when she wanted to give up.

They were in a million different time zones right now, hustling to build a name for themselves in the competitive world of travel consulting. With ironclad non-competes from their old firm, their client roster currently consisted of Marc’s friends and whatever referrals their favorite clients could muster.

Every project had to go perfectly to make their new business turn a profit. The future of their venture depended on it. And as the junior partner—the first one to be cut if things went sideways—Addie’s job did, too.

She scanned the spiderweb of paths at the top of the hill. A random cannon sat in the median. This had to be the right spot. “Research,” Addie said. “I’m already docking them three points for starting the tour in an obscure location.”

There. A group of ten or so people carrying colorful umbrellas huddled around a man in a kilt. Bingo.

“Are you spying?”

Her stomach clenched at the censure in Devika’s voice. “I’ve got this.” Maybe it was the jet lag making her a bit desperate, or the fear of what would happen if she failed, but she’d take whatever edge she could get. “Besides, gathering intel isn’t illegal,” Addie defended, even though Devika was right to worry.

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