Page 82 of Kilt Trip

On the screen, she stood with her back to the camera, staring out at the flat, gray water of Loch Ness. A blond replica of her mom’s picture.

Addie’s eyes watered, and she roughly brushed away tears with the heel of her hand.

Swipe.

Addie choked on a laugh. A panorama of children sitting on cannons, Addie perched in the middle.

Swipe.

A zoomed-in version to match Heather’s.

Swipe.

The same brooding mountain from today, the evergreen trees off to the left, a yellow-clad woman turned away, gazing up at nature’s dramatic display.

She stared at the image until the colors blurred together into a shimmery gray. The same color as Logan’s eyes.

She knew the word she couldn’t think of out on the moor, the one to describe how she felt about him.

More than gratitude or awe.

Love.

Addie brushed the soft waves of Logan’s hair off his forehead. “My mom said she always knew my dad loved her, but when she saw those pictures, she realized what they had between them was even bigger.” Addie knew exactly how her mom had felt.

She pulled Logan’s hand to her mouth, placing a kiss in the middle of his palm. Then she settled his open hand over her heart. It thundered under her skin. “Does your heart feel like mine?”

“Exactly the same,” he whispered.

Logan reached for her and moved her onto his lap, chest to chest. Her knees sank into the plush rug on either side of his hips and then his mouth was on hers, hot and urgent, as if he felt the same way she did. Like her chest might break open from the overfull feeling fighting to escape.

A fire sparked between them, and normally she couldn’t rein in her impatience, the all-consuming need for more. But this time, she pulled back.

Slowed down.

Touched the tip of her nose to his. Logan’s breath skated across her lips, and his eyes held hers like a caress. She kissed him, slow and passionate.

His fingers trailed up her sides and a wave of goose bumps spread in their wake like wind across the water. He lifted off her shirt, placing kisses along her collarbone and the curve of her breast.

This time, she didn’t pull him closer, didn’t nudge him faster. She sank into the soft pressure of his lips on her skin, the scrape of his stubble, the heat of his mouth.

Logan tugged off his sweater and rolled them, laying her back on the soft rug. The firelight danced along his skin, kissing the rounded curves of his chest and flickering copper through his hair.

“I can’t bear the thought of being without you,” she whispered, bringing her hands to either side of Logan’s face and pressing her lips to his.

They moved together like this was second nature. Inevitable. Fate.

In the dreamy aftermath, she curled into him. Locked together, their breathing synched.

Their heartbeats did, too.

33

Logan slipped quietly back into their hotel room and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing Addie’s back. She buried her head under the pillow, blindly swiping at him. “Go away, Logan. It’s pitch-black out.”

The sun rose late this time of year, but he wasn’t complaining about the long nights with Addie in his bed, lighting up the dark and warming his soul with her passion. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up, unsure if he’d whispered I love you in his sleep or only in his dreams.

He settled the cup of tea with far too much milk on the nightstand. Addie mimed following the wafting smell with her nose like an old cartoon, making him laugh, the glint in her sleepy eyes sparking fire in his chest.

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