Page 65 of Kilt Trip

Heat flared in his chest at her easy acceptance. He followed her up the stairs and into the bus, congratulating himself on keeping his hands in his own seat. Mostly.

At Inverness Cathedral, they failed miserably to avoid eye contact. Along the river walk, they couldn’t keep from brushing past one another. And when the group huddled around Logan at Clava Cairns and he pointed out features of the Bronze Age cemetery and standing stones, Addie only had eyes for him.

By the time they settled onto the bus for the long ride back to Edinburgh, Logan could barely see straight from wanting her. The hum of the engine and the high-backed seats created a bubble just for them. Relief coursed through him to finally have her to himself.

He twisted one of Addie’s curls around his finger and tipped his head against hers, his mouth by her ear. “Did you know how much I wanted you that first night? With your selkie hair wild like this, like you’d wandered out of the sea to ensnare me.”

Addie nodded definitively. “Handing me your phone number kind of gave you away.”

“And what about you? That pretty blush spreading over your skin...”

“Such an overactive imagination. I was only there for the nachos.”

He harrumphed and pulled her legs over his, settling her in next to him.

“Logan.” She pushed back, disentangling herself.

“No one’s paying us any attention.”

She glanced up at Keith whose eyes were on the road, and then over her shoulder to the empty seats across from them. “Okay, but we’re not doing this at the office. And this will cost you hundreds of points if anyone catches us,” she said as she leaned against him, tucking her feet up like she was settling in on a friend’s couch. His heart swelled at the familiarity.

“It’s always worth it,” he whispered.

Her knees rested against his thigh, and they watched as he drew lazy circles on the inseam of her jeans. He’d spent weeks dying to touch her. It felt so good to let himself reach for her now, without reservation.

As his hand roamed higher, a tiny whimper hit his ears and Addie bit the cotton seam on his shoulder. The look she gave him heated his blood.

He pressed his lips to the hollow below her ear. Then took her earlobe gently in his teeth. He was addicted to the breathy sounds she made. The rumble of the bus and the chatter of the guests faded away when Addie’s fingers locked into his hair, tugging at his scalp.

His breathing was erratic at best, his vision distorting everything around them to a dull blur.

“Sound sure carries in stone hallways,” Gertie said in an overly loud voice.

Addie straightened, her feet slipping back to the floor, and whispered “Oh my god,” into the palms of her hands.

Panic hit Logan’s bloodstream that this small remark would send Addie retreating.

He didn’t want to lose her. Not now, not ever.

“It was just like that with my Arthur...” Birdie said wistfully.

When Addie turned to look at him, her cheeks were stained a bright pink. Logan smiled to reassure her. He reached his hand out, palm up, in a silent question he desperately needed the answer to. If I take a risk, will you take a risk? His heart collided with his rib cage like a hailstorm.

She met his gaze, her lips pressing to the side like it was a harder decision than inviting him to bed last night. Her pause was heavy like the space between lightning and thunder. Waiting. Counting. Anticipating the boom.

She slipped her fingers through his and brought their locked hands to her lips. Relief cascaded through him in hopeful waves, and he exhaled quietly. She rested their hands on her leg, and while they kept their attention out the windows, he was aware of every single breath.

An hour later, Addie’s blond head tipped onto his shoulder. He tossed his coat over her, and her eyelashes fluttered where they rested on her cheeks. A tiny smile tugged at her lips. She burrowed into the fabric, and Logan’s heart pinched with longing.

He could picture Addie here, joining him on the tours. Coming with him to every holiday and birthday and impromptu family gathering. Cooking with his mother, indulging his father, taking the piss out of his brothers. He wanted to take all her lonely memories and replace them with his loud family.

Her presence would fill his empty flat with a warmth like his parents’ house, the kind that stemmed from the history of shared laughter. He could see them teasing, poking, but from love instead of fear.

When he returned from a tour, wired from the constant company, he’d find her curled in a reading chair waiting up for him. Winding him down. Settling him.

He could even hear the bump and scuff as she dragged Frank up the front steps, feel the rush of dashing down to meet her and sweeping her up in his arms. Giving her a place to call home.

It was so easy to imagine that life. To want.

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