Page 49 of Kilt Trip

Addie walked farther into the trees, her heartbeat in her ears. The wet ribbon chilled her fingers as she traced over the purple-flowered print of thistles, asters, lilacs, and lavender.

That summer, her dad never forgot to water her mom’s lavender plants. Addie cut the blooms, sticking them in vases around the house as if their perfume could fill in the gaping cracks in their family. In some ways it had, giving them a shared way to remember Heather when they couldn’t manage to speak her name out loud.

Addie wondered sometimes if he’d kept them alive after all this time. If she went back in the late summer, whether the yard would be blanketed in purple swaying in the breeze. If there was still some ritual, some connection, he sustained from so far away.

Addie tied the scrap on a branch with a silent wish for her relationship with her dad, her fingers lingering on the cracked bark. That he would heal enough from losing her mom to love Addie again, too.

The wish was childish, naive, and...surprising. Maybe there was magic in that well, after all.

But she wouldn’t hold her breath waiting.

Even prefrayed, it would take a long time for that ribbon to disintegrate. Longer still for Addie to forgive her father.

“We should go. It’s getting dark to be in these woods.” Imbued with intentional spookiness, Logan’s voice pulled Addie from the thoughts she usually kept buried. With a deep inhale, she squashed them back down with the ease that came from years of practice.

She’d gotten caught up in the moment was all. And Logan was a ridiculously gifted storyteller.

As if summoned, he appeared by her side. The short hair by his ear lifted into a soft curl from the misty air. “What did you wish for?”

Sharing about her mom when Addie didn’t think she’d see him again had been an anomaly, but she wasn’t telling Logan about Brian. “A wish won’t come true if you tell it to someone.”

“I never put much stock in that one.”

“Not what I’d expect from you. What was your wish?”

“For a certain American lass to tell me how wrong she is.” Logan winked. “Admit it, I’m winning.” With a smirk, he turned on his heel, leaving Addie to stare after him.

In her head, she could admit it. The tour had charm that came from experience and talent—not something that could be taught. But magnetism wasn’t money and The Heart was failing.

Addie scrubbed a hand over her face and rushed to catch up with Logan. “None of these stops would make it into a guidebook, you know.”

He ran his knuckles over the stubble on his chin. “And yet, the guests don’t mind.”

They didn’t. In fact, it gave them an exhilarated swagger, like following an underground band who would one day make it big.

Her strategy was a guaranteed success, and Logan’s was a colossal risk. But so far, his tour had been undeniably magical, and that counted for a hell of a lot in this industry. Stellar reviews and personal referrals were worth Big Mac’s weight in gold.

She’d never admit it to Logan, but her job had just gotten a lot harder.

16

They gathered around the banquet table at Carbisdale Castle, the retrofitted medieval chandelier casting a low light over the chattering group. Usually, dinners were Logan’s favorite part of any trip. These strangers—bonded by a day he hopefully solidified in their memories as magical and unique—shared their life stories without reservation. But tonight, his attention strayed.

He should have sat anywhere but next to Addie. They had barely stopped touching today, and he couldn’t focus on anything besides the way she tucked a rogue curl behind her ear and smiled at the other guests.

Her laughter overrode the music in the background and the story from the already-inebriated Australian couple. She raised her glass of whisky back at Ravi, the American bloke who might well have been Sendhil Ramamurthy’s older brother. Logan scowled across the table.

“The temperature dropped overnight, and we woke up to iguanas falling—”

Evelyn grabbed her husband’s arm, cutting in. “They literally fell from the trees, the poor dears. They couldn’t move from the cold, and the maintenance men picked them up by their tails to get them off the sidewalks. It was quite distressing to the guests.”

Addie looked at Logan and raised her eyebrows, like they both knew exactly who had been distressed. He couldn’t deny the tiny thrill he got from her secret look. As she held his gaze, the rumble of conversation faded and the sound of his breathing rose, her look turning from playful to heated as the seconds ticked by.

“I travel because it costs the same as therapy but it’s much more enjoyable.” Sofia’s loud voice reinstated reality, and the table erupted in laughter and clinking glasses.

Logan tipped back his whisky. His curiosity overruled his rational brain. He wanted to know everything about Addie’s watchful green eyes, the stories she didn’t share tonight, and what her lips would taste like. Between the warmth of the whisky and the memory of her perfume, he couldn’t resist. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Come on, lass, what’s your story?”

She fixed him with a willful stare, but her eyes twinkled. “Not a chance.”

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