Page 42 of Kilt Trip

Which they didn’t. Of course they didn’t.

She let out a shaky and hopefully inconspicuous breath. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said to herself as much as him.

Logan gestured for her to sit in the window seat. He turned to the passengers, leaning casually against the back of Keith’s seat, and Addie mimicked his pose, her heart rate refusing to chill out. “Welcome to The Heart of the Highlands Tours. We’re happy to be sharing our bonnie country with you. You’ve picked the only sunny day of the year, so someone must be a good-luck charm among you brave people visiting Scotland in January.”

The group chuckled, and Logan fell into the easy banter of a seasoned guide, asking everyone’s name and bestowing compliments on the two gray-haired white ladies who whispered and giggled, clearly jazzed for this trip.

As soon as Sofia and Carlos introduced themselves, they turned inward. She brushed her thumb along the light brown skin of his jaw before curling her fingers into his dark hair. His hand slid up her thigh as he tipped his nose against the curve of her shoulder. Honeymooners, Addie decided, looking away.

She didn’t need any additional ideas of what this kind of forced-proximity might do to someone.

She sat down, but Logan’s hips, clad in blue-and-green tartan, rested four inches from her face. Gripping the spiky wool of the seat, she counted cobblestones on the deserted street.

They set off with a rock of the bus, and Logan launched into a full-fledged history lesson, pointing out gray stone buildings that all looked alike, but his deep voice and exaggerated accent kept everyone entranced.

That’s what was going on here: his lighthearted mood plus the kilt effect reminded her too much of that first day and brought all the fluttery feelings rushing back. This reaction was simple muscle memory.

And she needed to lock that shit down.

Once they picked up speed, Logan settled in his seat, his shoulder brushing Addie’s and his legs spread wide under the hunter green kilt. He couldn’t have taken up more space if he tried.

Minimal leg room, minus 3 points.

Addie bumped her knee into him. “Not cool, manspreading.”

“What is that?”

She spread her legs in imitation of his stance, and his eyes hung at the junction of her thighs before snapping to the windshield. Warmth suddenly washed through her chest, and Addie shifted away from the pressure of his leg, slipping off her jacket. But she could still feel the heat lingering between them. This bus needed better air-conditioning.

Poor climate control, minus 3 points.

She half-listened while Logan answered questions and told stories as the land stretched out flat and windswept in every direction under the washed-out blue of the winter sky.

Addie scribbled, Filling drive time with engaging stories, 1 point.

“What are you writing in your wee diary there? How braw I look in my kilt?”

Startled by Logan’s attention, she clutched the notebook against her flushed chest. “A tally. Plus one for the accent. Plus two for flirting with the old women. Minus three for not introducing the driver.” Addie raised her eyebrows. “Keith deserves better.”

Keith chuckled in front of them.

Logan jumped up, bracing his arms on top of the seat. That was definitely a sigh behind her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been brought to my attention I forgot to introduce my dear friend, our driver, Keith. He plays a mean bagpipe and grew up in the Highlands so he knows his way around a winding back road, never you fear. You’re safe in his hands.”

Keith waved over his shoulder to the polite applause behind him, which Addie only noticed because she was trying her hardest not to check out Logan’s ass.

“And up front with me is Addie Macrae. She may be a selkie—half woman, half seal—who dooms men to a life of pining for her love. So have a care.” Logan’s wink started a wave of laughter, and Addie’s cheeks burned at the same time her stomach exploded into pink butterflies. He slipped back into his seat and glanced her way with a perfectly neutral face.

“Logan.” She hit him with her notebook.

“How many points did that cost me?” he asked with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Seven hundred.”

“Worth it.”

Despite her embarrassment, she barely suppressed her body’s reaction to his lopsided smile. It seemed wildly unfair for him to have a dimple.

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