Page 38 of Kilt Trip

“Salt for flavor.” Jack placed a white salt shaker in the shape of a sheep in Gemma’s pile.

Logan pulled a coin from his pocket. “For prosperity.” He was hypnotized by the light pink staining Addie’s cheeks—the same color as fireweed when it first bloomed across the hills.

Jack set a small evergreen branch on top of the rest. “For a long life. And don’t forget the whisky for cheer and toasting.” Jack raised the bottle above his head, and Logan pulled a flask from his pocket which he raised in the air.

Glasses clinked, and voices shouted “Slàinte mhath!”

Addie looked behind her, grinning wide before mimicking the toast. He offered her his flask and held on when she took it, just to see her eyes narrow.

He wasn’t disappointed.

She never backed down, even from the smallest challenge.

A thought hit him full in the chest, stronger than any shove from Jack. Logan liked her—everywhere but his office.

She took a drink as they closed the door behind them. The neighbors made their way back to the living room, chattering and stumbling into one another.

“I could have sworn ‘And crown thy good with brotherhood’ was in ‘Auld Lang Syne,’” she said with a cheeky grin, handing back his flask.

Logan snorted. “Och, no one really knows the words.”

Reid adjusted his vest. “No one but Dad,” he said, moving to the threshold of the entryway in a blur. His constant motion always made Logan think he was trying to make up for being born five years behind.

Maybe he didn’t grasp it, but Reid was the counterbalance that rounded out their family. Affable to Jack’s brooding. Daring to Logan’s caution. The linchpin that held them all together.

And a better lookout than he or Jack would’ve made. “All clear,” Reid said without taking his eyes off the living room.

Logan retrieved a stack of napkins from where he’d stashed them earlier as Jack pulled the plastic wrap off the shortbread. They haphazardly wrapped the cookies in the unfolded paper and stuffed them into Jack’s coat pockets, darting looks to where Reid scanned the gathering in the other room.

“What’s going on?” Addie asked.

Jack shushed her. “Want to get caught?”

“D’you have it?” Reid whispered.

“Of course I do.” Jack reached into a bag sitting at the foot of the coat rack.

Addie pulled the bag from his grasp. “Umm, can I help you?”

“Well...” Jack grimaced with drunken exaggeration as he retrieved a red box. “I needed something big enough to hide it.” He tapped twice on the shrink-wrapped box of Walkers shortbread complete with plaid background and a Scottie dog.

Addie gasped. “You used my bag! To smuggle shortbread into Gemma’s house.”

“She’s a great cook but can’t bake for shit.” He pointed at the bulges in his peacoat.

Reid pulled out a pocketknife and sliced through the plastic wrap before Jack swiped the freed tin, stuffing cookies in his mouth and batting away Addie’s attempts to get any.

She somehow enhanced this night. Broke the tension that had settled between his family these past months. She brought a lot of chaos into his life, but also a lot of light.

He’d feel her absence long after she’d gone.

Logan pushed the irrational thought away, chalking it up to the whisky and the magic of the night.

In a daring maneuver, Reid managed to pull the shortbread away and offered it to Addie.

“I could murder a curry right now,” Jack said absentmindedly and wandered back to the party, still buttoned into his peacoat.

“The nerve of that guy. Using my purse.” Addie chewed a cookie on the side of her mouth.

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