She didn’t need a distraction while she was here. There was too much riding on this project. Marc trusted her with a personal contact, not just a referral. Addie wouldn’t let him think for a second he’d made a mistake.
She tucked away her phone and threw back the rest of her drink, hoping the father-son duo she’d meet tonight would be one-fifth as charming as Logan.
4
With Frank in tow, Addie hailed a cab from the airport. The jet lag that had mysteriously vanished in the pub settled in Addie’s bones in the back seat of the too-hot car.
Marc and Neil—the owner of The Heart of the Highlands—went way back, and Neil had offered Addie his son’s spare room, insisting she live like a local. Since that might be nice—sometimes hotel rooms had all the appeal of five-day-old Chinese food—Addie had agreed.
But she also wasn’t clueless. The last thing she wanted to do was extend this endless day, but if she got even a single iota of that empty-parking-lot-at-night feeling from Jack, she’d check into a hotel. Marc would understand.
The cab stopped in front of a block of row houses Addie could barely make out through the raindrops streaking down the window. Reddish bricks Tetrised their way up to the gray shingled roofline. Four steps bracketed by wrought iron handrails led to the door of each unit from the tiny hedgerow-bordered lawns. The stacked bay windows capped off the charm.
She thanked the driver and opened the cab door into a blast of rain, her red umbrella ready to open like a shield.
As she tugged Frank out of the cab, the wind grabbed and ripped at the umbrella, flipping the whole thing inside out until it resembled a palm tree in the middle of a hurricane. The rain stung Addie’s cheeks, and the broken umbrella knocked her off balance with every gust of wind, dragging what little energy she still possessed from her muscles.
Frank scuffled with the cobblestones and Addie yanked the handle like the leash of an ill-disciplined Rottweiler. Addie’s hood blew off, icy rain streaming down her neck.
She fought the impulse to tip her head back and scream into the deluge.
Tussling with the metal arms of the umbrella, she made it into the refuge of the building. When she finally restrained it with an aggressive Velcro maneuver, she made the mistake of looking up the steep stairs that disappeared around the corner.
Addie slumped back against the door.
This day.
By the time she stood in front of flat 206, she was red-faced and panting.
Addie’s knock was answered by who she assumed was Jack, a man about her age with dark hair wearing a sky blue button-up and thick-framed glasses. He gaped at her as if she’d crawled up from the depths of the sea before rearranging his features into a friendly smile. “You must be Addie.”
“Yes. Thank you for letting me stay with you.” Her attempt at shaking off the rain in the stairwell was useless. A lake-size puddle came in with her.
“You’re more than welcome,” Jack said.
A woman in a plum-colored fisherman sweater bustled to the door, a look of deep concern etched around her soft eyes. “Oh, you poor dear. Jack, fetch her a towel. There are clean ones on the rack.”
“It’s my flat, Mum. I know where the towels are.”
Addie suppressed a grin at Jack’s eye roll.
“I’m Gemma, and this is my husband, Neil.” She gestured to the man with a push-broom mustache, Argyle sweater vest, and kind smile currently crowding Jack out as he pushed past to get the towel.
“Nice to meet you.” Addie smiled too wide to cover up her racing pulse. She didn’t look or feel presentable in the least, and she needed to impress these people.
Gemma clucked over the broken umbrella while Neil said, “Let me get that,” taking her yellow jacket and hanging it on a wobbly wooden rack. He ushered her deeper into the warm space. “We’re delighted you’re here. Marc had such wonderful things to say, and well...we’ve gotten into a bit of a bind. I’ve been running this business for thirty-five years, and money’s always been tight but manageable—”
Jack returned and handed her a white towel. “Dad, she’s been traveling all day.” His tortoiseshell glasses glinted with the motion of his exasperated headshake. Addie gave him an appreciative smile. As excited as she was to get to work, she needed a shower and a solid night’s sleep first.
“Of course, of course.” Neil took a step back with a self-deprecating smile at his overeagerness.
Addie dabbed her face and wound the towel around the bottom of her hair. “Sorry for the monsoon I brought in with me.” She wasn’t sure if using the towel on the floor would be polite or frowned upon.
“Och, the weather’s just faffing around. Wait until February,” Neil said.
She’d better be long gone by then.
Gemma placed a hand on Addie’s shoulder. “Let’s get you settled.”