Page 53 of Kilt Trip

An unbridled desire raced through Addie like the sparkling river catching morning’s first rays. If this mix of peace and longing in a land that held no significance for her could settle in her soul, she wouldn’t feel empty if she found the places in Heather’s Polaroids.

Gemma’s words came back to her, about soothing the ache she carried by sharing her stories. At the time, crying in Gemma’s kitchen had felt horrible, but with some distance, Addie could admit how cathartic it had been, too.

Maybe there was some truth to Gemma’s theory.

The times Addie chanced talking about her past, Logan always listened and held space for her. He never retreated. And if anyone could help her find the pictures, it would be him.

She breathed in deeply, drawing on the courage that seemed to gather around her. She swallowed against the thickness in her throat. “My mom’s name was Heather. Heather Macrae.”

“You took her surname?”

She’d expected him to make a comment about the fake name and the way they’d met, but of course he latched onto the second name. She shot him a look, and he raised his hands, letting it drop.

Asking Logan for help was hard enough without delving into all that. She brushed her booted foot back and forth over a clump of grass.

“I have four pictures of her in Scotland.” Her pulse in her ears drowned out the birds’ twittering morning song. “Would you help me find where they were taken?”

She pulled her phone from her pocket with shaky hands. Devika was the only other person in the world who’d seen them. Addie flipped to a picture, holding it out to him.

“Ah, yes, I recognize this look well. Snarly.”

A surprised laugh escaped her lungs.

“She’s bonnie. You have the same eyes.” Logan met Addie’s gaze, and her breath caught. He tapped the picture of her mom in front of a lake. “I think I know where this one is.”

“Where?” Addie’s voice raised an octave, and her heart didn’t beat so much as vibrate. She’d carried these pictures for so long, and now she had a real chance to visit these spots, to stand where Heather had stood. Hope spread in her chest like wings.

Logan’s eyes and voice turned soft. “Let me surprise you.”

Addie smiled at the memory of him showing off the Edinburgh skyline on that first tour. She’d give anything to have a wonderstruck moment like that again. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “Can I send these to myself?”

She nodded, and his fingers typed on the screen.

Logan’s lips tipped up. “Oh, I’m in here already,” he said, amusement heavy in his voice.

Remembering too late how she’d entered him in her Contacts, Addie’s face flushed with an impossible warmth for the chill of the morning. She snatched the phone back.

He studied her, his eyes asking for confirmation that she’d felt that initial attraction, too, as if Logan NOT Hot Scottish Tour Guide wasn’t a dead giveaway.

She considered maintaining that the moniker was accurate. But he was helping her. These past few days he was so much like the man she first met—endearing, soft, earnest—and she couldn’t quite bring herself to shunt them back to the place where they poked and prodded each other.

“Don’t let it go to your head. It’s bound to explode from all the fawning everyone’s doing over you.” She rolled her eyes at his playful grin.

“Speaking of, we should get back.”

“Lead the way, Tour Guide.”

18

The ruins of Urquhart Castle tumbled down to the banks of Loch Ness. The walls of the castle dove below the surface of the lush grass carpeting the floor of ancient rooms as if the uneven earth was reclaiming its old belongings. Across the water, a hill caught a low-hanging wisp of a cloud.

The group crossed a footbridge Addie prayed wasn’t the original and peered over the thankfully empty streambed below.

Logan had memorized the last eight centuries of the castle’s bloody past, and he shared his infinite wisdom with the group huddled around him.

“For nearly a millennium this castle passed hands between the English, Scots, and the Lord of the Isles...” He led them through the ruins, painting a picture of what kinds of rooms these rock borders might have been.

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