Page 26 of Kilt Trip

She jerked back. “Um, no, thanks! I’ve had enough adventure for one day.”

“I can drive us back, then.”

“I’m perfectly capable.”

Logan shrugged and tipped one hand out. “You just crashed into a flock of sheep.”

“I swerved.” The fire in her eyes made it clear he wouldn’t win this one.

“Right, then.” Logan made his way around the front of the van to the passenger seat. He climbed in, scooping up a handful of photographs and sweets before sitting down.

Addie snatched the pictures back. “Don’t touch those.”

“Are these fair game?” he asked, biting off a piece of Strawberry Laces that tasted like childhood.

A mutinous look passed across her features before she tucked the pictures into her bag like they were nuclear codes.

Logan made a show of fastening his seat belt, tugging on the chest restraint to confirm it was in working order.

Addie rolled her window up in deliberate, aggressive cranks. She was so unbearably stubborn, acting like accepting his help might literally kill her.

“Try to keep the tires on the road. The shoulder may look flat, but I assure you it’s not.”

“Yes, it occurred to me.” She enunciated each word but put the car in gear.

“Alright, let’s go. Turn on your indicator to the left.”

She scowled in his direction but the blinking arrow appeared.

“Check your blind spot.”

“Logan, so help me god.”

He didn’t disguise his grin. Getting under her skin was better than his footie team bringing home the Scottish League Cup. “You’ll need to accelerate quickly into traffic.”

“Maybe I’ll crash on purpose.” She spared a quick glare for him. “I’ll make sure you see it coming.”

A surprised laugh escaped him as she pulled onto the road. He’d nearly forgotten she had a sense of humor.

After Addie turned the van around, she asked, “How can I make this up to your dad? Whisky?”

“Loads of whisky.”

“And what about you? How will I pay off my debts?”

“Watching you drive this slowly is surely payment enough.”

He half expected her to swerve, causing his head to crack against the window and claiming it was the shit road—Jack would’ve—but all she did was huff.

They drove without speaking, the smell of her floral perfume and the tension rolling off her making him claustrophobic.

It was of utterly no consequence, but in the office, she chatted easily with his employees, asking about their lives, making them laugh. But she didn’t share anything of herself. If someone was looking closely, she was guarded and controlled—worse when she was with him.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to break through her walls or get to know her, but he couldn’t stand the awkward silence for another minute. “Who’s in the photos?” he asked.

“Mind your own business.”

Christ. Did everything have to be such a goddamn battle?

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