Page 91 of Kilt Trip

“Hmm? Yes. Spreadsheets, reservation system, website. Got it.” His fingertips traveled into the sensitive dip behind her ear.

Addie grabbed his hand and pulled it away. “Please pay attention. You have to be able to do this by yourself.”

A stone settled where his stomach used to be and slashed away the desire clouding his mind. “Why are you so worked up today?”

“This has to be perfect to pitch to Marc. And it should have been done by now. I have to wrap this up.” The venom in her voice poisoned any lingering fantasies Logan clung to. Addie stood, collecting her papers and stuffing them into a folio.

Her emotional armor that he’d been wrestling with all week—all month, really—snapped back into place, the lock bolting so loudly he could practically hear it.

Here he was, distracted by how great it felt working with her, while she’d jumped ahead to the end.

His stomach swirled with the uncertainty of the next step, but the time for avoiding the reality of her imminent departure had clearly passed.

Straightening his spine, he breathed deeply and then caught Addie’s wrist, forcing her to turn and face him. “What happens when this is done?”

“I write up an official plan with The Heart’s next steps and share it with you, Neil, and Marc. But I need to have a conversation with Marc first. I can’t blindside him with this.”

Logan clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t reconcile Office Addie with how emotional and open she’d been by the side of the loch a week ago. That Addie had vanished like the Scottish mists.

This Addie always thought about work, never giving their relationship the gravity it deserved. At this point, it chafed. She constantly fought the pull, the rightness between them. The stale air turned bitter as he sucked it in.

“I meant with us.”

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, hiding from him.

Always hiding from him.

“Let’s talk at my place,” he said.

Time passed with a quiet tick, tick, tick, but the sound of Addie slipping through his fingers was a raging forest fire, crackling and burning him down to ash.

37

Addie walked into his room, Logan trailing behind, and turned on the bedside lamp. She breathed through the jitters zipping through her chest. It wasn’t like she thought she’d avoid having this conversation, but she wasn’t ready for it yet.

She’d meant it when she said she couldn’t bear to think about life without him—so she hadn’t. It hurt too much.

Logan perched on the side of his mahogany dresser. “Are you walking out of here when this project is finished?”

“Of course not. How could you think that?” It scared her how much she cared. How his easy laughter seeped in through the cracks and seemed to glue her back together.

“Because you’re pulling back from me. I can feel it.”

“I’m stressed—”

“What do you want, Addie?”

She moved past the bookshelf full of picture frames and knickknacks, to the window, out of the direct line of his demanding gaze. The cold air seeped through the glass and settled on her skin, dampening the fear. Orange ribbons cast by the streetlight glow rippled over wet cobblestones.

If she gave herself permission to dream, she’d buy plane tickets as far out as the airlines would let her, to know with full certainty when she would be in his arms again. She wanted to sit around his tiny kitchen table eating hearty soup on an extended layover. To snuggle into a reading nook in a bookshop on a dreary Edinburgh morning.

She wanted to sleep in an ice castle. Make love in a humid room with the sound of ocean waves crashing out the window. Dance in the street.

She wanted to take him to the desert.

Their adventures together would be sporadic, but wasn’t the possibility, the spontaneity, part of the fun?

Addie moved between Logan’s legs and gripped the cut of his biceps. “I want to meet in cities all over the world. I know this little café in Paris and we can eat ourselves sick on pain au chocolat. And I’ve always wanted to see the sea turtles in Costa Rica. We can find places neither of us have been before and meet new people, try new foods, explore. Just like our Highland trip.”

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