Page 111 of Kilt Trip

A familiar voice reached him. “Where’s the kilt? I specifically requested a kilt.”

His heart battered his rib cage in recognition, and he pinched his eyes shut against an overwhelming surge of longing.

It couldn’t be her.

His mind was simply oversaturated with sunshine smiles and stolen kisses.

He turned, afraid to look. Afraid not to.

Addie.

48

Logan’s heart and feet came to a complete stop. Addie leaned against the side of the blue bus.

A gull flew past, interrupting the still frame of Addie in his oversize Heart of the Highlands hoodie, her seal eyes wide and questioning. Her hair was twisted in a braid, but the curls around her temples fluttered in the cool breeze.

Just like that first day.

Spots littered his vision, and he was afraid he was imagining her—that he’d conjured her simply from wishing so hard.

The magnetic pull between them was stronger than his uncertainty, and he drifted toward her over the glistening pavement. Not trusting himself to go any farther, he stopped just out of reach.

There was only one reason for someone to fly back to Scotland and show up at his door. Hope fluttered in his belly, but he needed to tamp it down. This was Addie. She could just as easily be here on business.

A stopover.

A tingle that was both parts dread and exhilaration crept over his skin. “What are you doing here?”

She moved toward him only to pull herself back.

He still hadn’t taken any oxygen into his lungs. Suspended between her words, he needed to know their impact before he could fall one way or the other.

Toying with the sleeve of her hoodie—his hoodie—she said, “I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

Logan’s heart leaped, and his body strained to touch her, but it wasn’t that easy. She had left. And she’d put him through hell.

“When you said you didn’t want me, I reacted without thinking. I ran—”

He took a step closer. “It was never about not wanting you, lass. Please tell me you know that.”

When she didn’t immediately answer, when hurt still clung to the corners of her eyes, Logan cupped her face. “I wanted you from that first minute you turned up on my tour—lost and a wee bit late. I haven’t changed my mind. Not for a second. The things I said... Christ, I was a complete bawbag. I wish I could take back the way I talked to you.”

“I should have supported you.”

“It’s alright. I landed on my feet.” If possible, he would have liked to avoid the past weeks of torture, but he’d made a choice for himself and his future, and he wouldn’t take that back.

“I saw the newsletter. I’m proud of you. And it inspired me to ask for what I want.” She stepped back with open arms and wide hands. “You’re looking at the newest senior partner at Dawsey Travel Consulting.”

“Congratulations.” He wasn’t sure what that meant for her—for them—but she looked happy.

“The best part—new management will let me work from anywhere in the world. I’d really like that to be Edinburgh. Me and Frank here—” she patted her green suitcase “—we’re all in, if you’ll have us.” Her look, that mix of hopeful and scared, pulled him in.

Logan reached for her hand, slipping his fingers between hers. Words piled up in his mouth trying to get out, wanting to say he wanted her, he needed her, he loved her.

But it wasn’t that easy. He couldn’t enter the I’ll-take-a-risk-if-you-do arrangement again. Their intentions had been so murky and left him indefinitely questioning where they stood and how she felt. He wouldn’t go through it again.

“Lass, I want that more than anything, but I’m not trying to clip your wings. It’s not about where you live, it’s about letting me in. You kept so much from me. I want to be a team. I want to understand how you feel. I want to know when your next project starts. So I have to ask... What exactly does that mean to you?”

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