Page 35 of Kilt Trip

Perfect segue. Thank you, Reid. Clearly the helpful Sutherland brother.

Logan reappeared from the kitchen and something fluttered under Addie’s breastbone that was probably panic over a potential interruption but also might’ve been guilt. “Good.” She lowered her voice. “Actually, Neil, I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

“Dad,” Logan called. “Addie hadn’t heard of Hogmanay before. Can you believe it?”

Her heart kicked an angry rhythm against her sternum and she glared at Logan. Turning Neil’s storytelling on her was low, even for him. “I’d heard of it—”

Neil clasped his hands, eyes dancing with excitement and ushered them to the sitting area where Jack reclined on the sofa. His feet were propped on the edge, arm thrown over his face, as if he’d just returned from a three-day mountaineering expedition instead of a micro stint in tech support. He dropped his arm and caught sight of Reid. “Aren’t we looking posh?”

“Someone’s got to keep up with Pops, here,” Reid said, patting Neil on his checkered lapel.

“Did you know Scotland had a ban on Christmas until the ’50s?” Neil asked Addie, not deterred by his son’s teasing.

“The 1950s,” Logan clarified, setting a plate of shortbread cookies on the coffee table.

Reid and Neil pulled up folding chairs, and Addie took a seat on the stone hearth, picking at her cuticle. Neil might as well have been on a different continent for how accessible he was to her now.

The heat from the fire licked its way up Addie’s back, but when Logan settled next to her, a shiver spread through her, defying the logic of thermodynamics.

He leaned to the side and braced an elbow on his knee. His storytelling posture. “Scots didn’t celebrate Christmas for nearly four hundred years. The official ban was lifted long before, but everyone worked over Christmas so Hogmanay became the primary celebration in the winter.”

“I had no idea,” Addie said. She couldn’t tell if he was on to her and purposely keeping her from Neil or if Logan was really this interested in sharing holiday factoids.

“Hogmanay is meant to see out the old year and welcome the new with a fresh start. Our traditions stretch back to when pagans and Druids walked our bonnie land. We don’t know all of their rituals and the meaning behind them, but it’s reasonable to believe the winter solstice was a way to ask the gods for a return of the sun in the deep, dark nights of winter.”

That twinkle was back in Logan’s eye, the one she recognized from the Edinburgh tour, and so was the flutter in her stomach. It was hard to suppress when his brogue was dialed up to ten.

Jack groaned, mumbling, “’Sake,” and pressed a pillow over his face.

Addie swallowed her laugh when Neil sniffed, push broom twitching. “One of my favorite customs to welcome the New Year is the First Footing. To ensure good luck for the household, the first person through the door after midnight should be a handsome, dark-haired man.”

Logan leaned in like he was sharing a secret, and it sent an unwanted tingle up her spine. “That bit goes back to the Vikings. If a blond bloke showed up at yer door, ye wouldn’t be in for a good year, ye ken?”

While she could feel herself settling into the way his rich voice pitched low—just like how he’d sounded in that unwieldy van—her drink would probably have the same calming effect without all the conflicting data points about where she and Logan stood.

Because people didn’t invite enemies into their childhood homes, no matter how dedicated they were to their jobs.

And they didn’t tell themselves they had to sit this close, touching shoulder to hip to knee, or risk knocking into the stand of fire pokers—even though the curved edges were covered in soot and would definitely wreck her white sweater.

“Otherwise, I’d clearly be the first-foot,” Reid said.

Logan shoved his brother’s shoulder, and Neil tutted. There was an easiness between this family she envied.

“Jack and Logan tussle over the honor every year,” Neil explained.

“We have an impartial judge. What do you say, Addie?” Jack asked.

She held her hands up, staying out of it, but her gaze inadvertently collided with Logan’s, and her traitorous heart fluttered, enjoying being in his sights even when she was trying so hard to stay out of them.

The doorbell rang, and Neil stood, flattening his already flat lapels. “Gemma, they’re here!”

“Answer the door, then!” she called back.

Addie’s heart sank. Dammit. How did she always get so sucked into their stories? She could only assume Neil’s stamina for hosting guests was on par with sharing traditions and folklore.

He wasn’t approving new tour ideas tonight.

Addie rubbed her temples.

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