Page 22 of Kilt Trip

The corners of Logan’s lips tipped down. “You write off these places you deem too insignificant to warrant a visit, but you haven’t mentioned joining a tour to see for yourself. Are you so good at your job you don’t even need to see the sights?”

Addie swept up the maps, tapping them together on the desk. “I’ve already seen you work. And I’m not here on vacation.”

“Take a lot of those?”

Her blood simmered. “I don’t have time to go to a thousand castles next week, so we can have this conversation. I know you think you can convince anyone of the magic of Scotland once they’re on your tour, but if they’ve never heard of these sites, they’re not booking. Let me help you get the numbers on your bus.”

“I want people to see how they fit in the fabric of Scotland. To come away from their experience with more than an overpriced bottle of Johnnie Walker. This isn’t a job for me, it’s a way of life.” He raised his eyebrows accusingly. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a Macrae. You came all the way to Scotland, and instead of trying to connect with your heritage, you’re in the office around the clock.”

Addie stiffened. “I’ll connect on the weekend.” With a bottle of Scotch and a book, tucked in by the bay window.

Logan’s eyebrows rose. “Will you? Where are you headed, then?” He sat on the edge of the desk like he was settling in to hear a delightful tall tale.

Addie bristled at his clear disbelief. There was no backing down now and only one place she knew by name. “Eilean Donan.”

“Ah, the clan seat of the Macraes.” Logan pushed his sleeves up to reveal muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. Not that Addie was looking, but her brain wouldn’t let her forget. He rested his elbow on one knee, rubbing his knuckles under his chin. “Gorgeous castle. Need any recommendations for the trip?”

“I have it all planned. Lonely Planet, you know.”

“Little light on the history, last time I checked.” His jaw clenched, and she reveled in the tell.

“That’s what Wikipedia’s for.”

“Might want to leave the laptop at home, if you can manage.”

She narrowed her eyes, refusing to blink first. “Maybe you can make me a map with red markers so I won’t get lost.”

His face brightened, and it undermined the point she thought she’d just won. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll lend you a van.”

Addie’s stomach swooped, and Logan must have heard the sputter of her heart, because victory shone in his eyes. “Unless you don’t think you can handle it?”

“I can handle it,” she assured him.

“You’re all sorted, then.”

8

Addie kicked a stray rock across The Heart of the Highlands parking lot. One push from Logan and she’d bluffed her way into a heritage trip. But it was fine. She was ninety-eight percent sure she held keys to a tour bus, at which point she could turn down this ludicrous idea and cry foul play.

She pressed the key fob Logan had bestowed upon her last night, his smug smile still burned onto her retinas.

The headlights of a navy Sprinter van blinked in the misty morning light as if to say Gotcha.

Addie’s stomach shriveled and her lungs restricted airflow in protest. She forced out a breath.

It wasn’t like she had to go.

She could claim the weather was shit, which—being December in Scotland—it was. Or fabricate the entire trip...but that asshat probably checked the mileage.

He would.

Addie could say she changed her mind, but her shoulders pinched at the thought of surrendering. She could just see Logan’s glee.

No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

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