Page 93 of Kilt Trip

His body practically vibrated, sad and powerful and breakable, like he might shatter into a million little pieces if she got too close.

He lifted his head, his jaw set, his eyes pleading, a swelling mix of hopeful and hopeless that dragged her under and wrung her out. “You push me to take risks. Take a chance on me, Addie. I’m a good bet.”

So fucking earnest.

She moved to him, unable to fight the pull. He wrapped his arms around her waist, grabbing fistfuls of her shirt, and settled his ear over her heartbeat. She cradled his head and buried her nose in his hair, the comforting smell of his shampoo choking her.

She closed her eyes, sinking into the way his body told her things that were too big for words, but felt like I need you.

Despite every last attempt she’d made to not rely on him, she needed him, too.

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

Logan tipped his face up and shook his head, his jaw tight. “I will never change my mind about us.” He kissed her roughly, the pressure of his lips, the slide of his tongue full of possession and hurt. His hand twisted into her hair to the point of pain. She could feel his need to claim her, to push her, to prove she felt it, too.

“Tell me we’ll figure something out.” His voice broke.

Addie stared into his stormy ocean-gray eyes, the raw need, the swirling uncertainty. She had once thought Logan predictable. But that wasn’t right. He was steady, his love unchanging and enduring.

She nodded. “I’ll talk to Marc.” About a whole slew of things.

38

Addie sat in the pub while Logan and Jack hurled insults at the football match on TV. Elyse sipped her Cider and Black, the pinkish hue matching her nail polish. She quirked an eyebrow at Addie over the rim of her pint glass.

Clearly, Addie wasn’t doing a great job pretending to have a good time. She tried to smile, shoving a cheese-drenched chip in her mouth.

Everything felt out of control, like she was making decisions about her future in the middle of a storm surge. And it was only going to get worse.

Dread had coiled around her stomach last night and wouldn’t let go. She needed to talk to Marc and hope for the best.

Like the time she’d gotten back from Armenia with Devika. In a department-wide meeting, Marc had called Addie brilliant. She could still feel the blush spreading across her cheeks and the pride in her chest.

The hope that Marc would react the same way this time was self-deception at its finest. They could take risks at an established company, but not now.

Visions of his reaction hadn’t stopped playing in her head. A cold stare, a rough voice, a stiff spine. I trusted you to get this done.

She couldn’t put off this call forever. She’d give herself an ulcer. If she didn’t call with an update soon, he certainly would.

Addie picked up her phone, and after checking her world clock to make sure it was an acceptable hour in Greece, she texted him.

Addie: Will you call me when you have a free minute?

Her phone lit up on the table. Marc Dawsey.

She flinched, then scrambled to silence the buzzing, her phone shooting across the slick tabletop. Logan caught it, his face awash with hope as he read the name. Addie tried not to grimace when he handed it back to her.

It vibrated against her palm, but she felt the disturbance through her whole body. “I’m going to take this.”

“Buzzkill,” Elyse said, but Addie was already pushing through the bar line on her way to the door. She’d never make it outside before the call went to voice mail. She answered in the echoing entryway.

“Bad time?” Marc asked with a smile in his voice.

She winced and cupped the bottom of the phone as if that would help dim the noise. “No. Let me just get outside.”

“You know, you’re entitled to a personal life. I’m glad to see you taking a break. Let’s catch up later.”

“No, now’s good.” Addie pushed open the heavy wooden door and gulped in the cold night air.

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