Page 17 of Kilt Trip

“Everyone has their own methods. You’d have to ask them.”

Her lips tipped up in a menacing smile. “Fine.”

Chair legs hit the floor with a thud, and his stomach mirrored the plummeting sensation. Speaking to his guides was the absolute last thing Logan wanted her to do.

Addie descended upon the newest member of the team. Brandon had all of Logan’s detailed notes on each trip in his possession. Essentially a filing cabinet filled with information Addie would love to get ahold of and run through the shredder. Logan’s fingers twitched with the need to interfere, but he couldn’t think of a plausible reason to interrupt. He gnawed on the end of a pen cap.

“Hey, Brandon.” She drew out his name, and his head of shaggy black curls bounced up, delight in his eye at her attention. “Do you have your training documents handy?” She cast a quick look over her shoulder at Logan, and his blood heated.

“Sure.”

The plastic cap snapped between Logan’s teeth. He had to do something. “Could bees be in the printer, do you think?”

Big Mac jumped at the suggestion, storming to the corner of the room by Brandon’s desk to investigate while Addie rubbed her temple. Logan moved closer to hear their conversation better, picking up a fern in a red pot to bring to the window as an excuse if anyone asked.

“What are you looking for?” Brandon still vibrated with the urgent energy of an intern.

“Information on where we stay, stops for food...?”

Don’t look in her eyes.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

“That’s it!” Big Mac roared, climbing onto Margaret’s desk. She scooped up a lit scented candle to keep it from being knocked to the floor while Big Mac popped up the square ceiling panel.

Logan couldn’t even appreciate the mayhem while Addie interrogated Brandon. How was she so singularly focused?

“Logan’s so overwhelmed right now, I don’t want to bother him,” Addie said, clearly trying to recapture Brandon’s attention.

“Oh, sure. Let me see...” While he rummaged through stacks of paper, Big Mac stepped one foot onto Brandon’s desk to reach the next tile. Logan willed Brandon to come up empty-handed. To slip the training materials to the bottom of the pile, or better yet, into the bin. They’d be safer there.

Hold it together, mate.

“Here they are.” Brandon pulled out a handful of folders and handed over the gold.

Logan threw one hand in the air. What a blundering fool.

Addie turned into the full force of Logan’s glare, but instead of shrinking back she swished the folder like a red matador cape. She gave him the first genuine smile he’d seen from her since the pub and flipped through the pages with delight. Logan’s pulse roared in his ears.

Elyse cleared her throat, and Logan whipped around to find her lips puckered and one eyebrow raised. Never a good sign. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”

Logan squinted at the ceiling. “No.”

She took the fern and balanced it on her hip like a baby. “Getting your way is an art form, and spitting soor plooms across the room isn’t it. She’s going to make changes around here, and right now, you’re the only one withholding input. You might mention your ideas unless you can live with Brandon’s vision for The Heart.”

Logan’s muscles tightened like his body was ready to enter the boxing ring with that particular idea. The only vision that mattered was the one his dad had built this company on thirty years ago.

Big Mac popped another ceiling panel out and swiped his hand along the opening. White dust cascaded like a chalky flash flood directly onto Addie’s head, debris pinging off her shoulders, powder ballooning into the air.

Logan barked out a laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Addie turned, her back ramrod straight, her hair and suit jacket painted an ashy gray. The fire in her eyes clearly communicated that the professional veneer he’d been chipping away at was well and truly gone, and he was about to suffer.

Big Mac voiced Logan’s thoughts. “Well, shit.”

7

Tempting Tattie smelled of burnt potato skins in the best possible way. Potatoes hung in wire baskets on the wood-paneled walls of the tiny shop that two and a half people could fit comfortably inside. Addie and Elyse stood in line along the skinny display case while a man in a black beret and rainbow scarf plopped into their baskets whatever unlabeled toppings they pointed to.

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