“I’ve an idea.” Fiona clicked her tongue thoughtfully, breaking the spell. “You said you wanted to help cook?” She slapped the spatula into Logan’s palm. “Here.”
Logan stood paralyzed, holding the spatula awkwardly as he watched his mother bustle off to the pantry. The sound of dough sizzling shook him into action, and he hurried to the stove. Cassie watched as he attempted to flip the dumplings. One slipped off the spatula and landed with a splat in the pan, sending hot oil spraying. “Christ!” Logan swore again, rubbing his arm, before glancing up quickly in the direction of the pantry.
“I don’t think she heard,” Cassie whispered, crossing the kitchen to stand next to him. “I’d offer to take over, but I don’t think I’d be any better at this than you.”
He winked, the naughty-boy smirk making an appearance. “I ken your feminine talents lay in other places, aye?”
“Watch it, Scottie.” Cassie smacked him on the butt. He was wearing an old T-shirt and a faded pair of jeans, and she liked the feel of Logan’s firm body beneath the tight, threadbare fabric. Liked it so much she was gearing up to smack him again when his mother returned from the pantry.
“Here it is!” Fiona chirped, setting a large old-fashioned mill on the counter.
Cassie dropped her hand and cleared her throat, moving to join Fiona at the counter.
Fiona poured a measure of coffee beans into the top of the mill and gestured for Cassie to take the handle on the crank. “Give it a go, lass.” Cassie twisted the handle and began to grind the beans. After a moment Fiona nodded her approval and shifted her focus to Logan. “Give me that.” She took the spatula and shooed him away from the stove, deftly flipping the dumplings out of the pan and into a cloth-lined basket.
While Cassie continued grinding, Logan set water to boil and prepped the press. Just when Cassie thought her hands were going to curl in a permanent cramp, Fiona took over. Logan’s mother gave the crank one final turn before pulling out a small drawer at the bottom of the mill. “Will this do?” she asked, tilting the drawer so Cassie could see inside.
Cassie nodded, inhaling the thick, rich scent of fresh ground beans. Really fresh, she thought, flexing her fingers.
“I’ll handle the rest, Mam.” Logan took the coffee grounds from his mother and set about making the coffee.
Fiona watched her son, her expression clearly saying she didn’t quite believe her eyes. She cocked her head toward the table. “Come join me,” she said to Cassie. “We’ll get first crack at the clooties before this guffy can eat them all, aye?”
While Logan finished brewing the coffee, Cassie and Fiona dug into the hot, delicious lumps of fried heaven. Between bites, Fiona peppered Cassie with suggestions of what she and Logan could do today.
“Easy, Mam,” Logan said, setting a steaming mug of coffee in front of Cassie. “We’re only down for a few days, remember?”
“Och, fine.” Fiona made a face and sipped her tea. “You’ll have to be sure to bring her back again for a longer visit soon, then.”
Logan rolled his eyes at his mother’s blatant hint and joined them at the table. “Let’s just get through today, aye?” He pulled the basket of clooties toward him. “I was thinking of taking her up to Eilean Donan.”
“That’ll be lovely.” Fiona nodded. “Perhaps you can stop by the docks? Say hi to Mr. Kinney?”
Logan set a half-eaten dumpling down. “We’ll see.”
Cassie wondered if that phrase meant the same here as is it did back home. To Cassie, “we’ll see” meant “not a chance in hell.” The tone of Logan’s voice certainly indicated the same, but his mother chattered on as if she expected he’d follow through.
“Wonderful. I know he’d be delighted to see you. He misses you, you know. Says it’s not the same without a Reid at the helm.”
“Is aught amiss at the fishery?” Logan asked, his voice gruff.
Seated next to him on the bench, Cassie could feel the waves of tension rolling off him.
“No, no.” His mother was quick to respond. “Everything’s grand.”
“Good.” Logan let out a breath and pushed back his plate. Cassie noticed he’d barely made a dent in the pile of food he’d loaded on it. But she didn’t argue when he rose from the bench and offered her his hand. “Care for a walk?”
Cassie glanced at Logan’s mother, not wanting to abandon the poor woman to clean up after breakfast alone. Fiona waggled her fingers toward the door. “Off you go. It’s a rare fine morning out there, no need to be stuck inside wi’ me.”
CHAPTER 24
MAM HAD BEEN right about the weather. It was unusually fair for this time of year in the Highlands. Once away from the house, Logan relaxed a bit, the ever-present tightness in the back of his throat easing. He wanted to take full advantage of the bonny day and show Cassie some of the best sites Lochalsh had to offer. She’d mentioned wanting to see Eilean Donan when they’d still been in Chicago, so he decided to start there.
When they arrived at the castle, the sun was creeping over the craggy edges of the stone towers, lighting the long, winding path linking the island fortress to the mainland and sparkling like a blanket of diamonds on the surrounding moat. He gave up counting how many times she sighed and gasped with pleasure as they spent the morning inspecting every nook and cranny of the old place.
After they’d toured the castle, he took her down past Shiel Bridge to Glenelg, where they could view the ruins of the Bernera Barracks and wander around the old brochs.
“I’ve read about these,” Cassie said, poking her head into one of the ancient round structures. She ran a hand along the mossy brick. “Can you believe this has stood here for centuries?”
“Knowing how brutal the weather is in these parts?” Logan shook his head. “Ah, no, I cannot.”
She tilted her chin and looked at the top of the tower, awe sparking in her dark eyes. “I wonder what they were like.”
“Who?”
“The people who built this.”
Logan had to admit he’d never thought much about it. But he liked knowing that she did. There was something sweet and wonderful in the way she wanted to absorb everything. To look and touch and smell.
They were still exploring in the late afternoon when gloaming took over the highland landscape, painting the hills and crags with amber and indigo. “Where did the sun go?” Cassie asked, only half joking as she shivered in the fading light.
“Dusk falls early in the Highlands this time of year.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, sharing his warmth. Day shifted to night, a chill rising with the moon as it crested the horizon, fat and full.
Cassie gasped. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Aye,” he agreed, though it was not the moon capturing his attention. The lass was so very lovely, her cheeks pink with cold, her sable eyes shining. “That’s the Dark Moon, you ken.”
“The dark moon?”
“Mm-hmm,” Logan hummed, brushing his lips across the tender skin of her forehead. “’Tis the Celtic name for the full moon in November,” he explained, and let his mouth drift lower to nip a kiss. “Best we be careful, or the Fair Folk will come to steal you away from me.”
“You mean fairies?”
“Oh, aye.” He pressed another kiss to the smile hiding in the corner of her mouth. “Once a month they abandon their homes deep under the hills to dance and play in the glow of the full moon.”
Cassie laughed and twirled out of his embrace, her chestnut hair fanning out around her as she spun. She cast a glance over her shoulder at him, the heat of her gaze cutting through the frosty night and warming him from the inside out. With one pale finger she beckoned to him, and Logan stepped forward, unable to resist. But before he could reach her she turned, wicked as any fey, and ran from him, teasing laughter ringing in her wake.
Logan chased her around the abandoned brochs. With his long legs, he easily outpaced her, but he let her think she was winning, enjoying the sport of it, waiting for the r
ight moment to strike. At the edge of the hill she paused and looked back, and that’s when he saw his chance. He leapt forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and tackling her. As they fell he shifted his body so he’d hit the ground first.
She landed on top of him with a yelp. Before she could squirm away from him, he tightened his hold and pitched his weight sideways, sending them tumbling down the gentle slope of the hill. They rolled to a stop in a patch of sweet-smelling clover. She lay trapped beneath him, hair spread in a dark cloud around them. He twined his fingers in the silken mass and bent forward to touch his lips to hers.
A stiff wind roared across the hillside, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He ignored it, pressing into her as he kissed her, wanting to bury himself in her taste. In her heat. He plunged deeper, tongue exploring her mouth, and she moaned in response. The air around them became charged. When Logan heard the rumble of thunder in the distance, he realized it wasn’t just the sparks flying between them causing the electrifying shift. With a reluctant groan, he broke the kiss and got to his feet.
“Come on, lass, I’ll take you home.” He offered her a hand up.
She stood. “What’s wrong, are the fairies coming to get us?” she asked, quirking lips that were wet and full, swollen from his kisses.
He chuckled and pulled a purple thistle from the tangle of her hair. “No, but a storm is. Best we go before it catches up.” He tugged her hand toward the car, picking up the pace as another round of thunder rolled across the hill.
On the drive back, over the steady thrum of a brisk November rain, Cassie chattered about what she’d liked best from the day’s adventuring. She seemed to find all the old places fascinating, recalling the tiniest details with relish. He enjoyed listening to her, warmth blooming in his chest as her animated voice made him see places he’d grown up knowing in a fresh light, through her eyes.
By the time they got to the house, it was late and Mam had already retired upstairs. She’d left a plate of sandwiches on the table for them, along with a note threatening injury if Logan dared touch the pies cooling on the counter. Unable to resist, Logan peeked under the cloth covering the pies. As he’d known she would, Mam had gone all out for Cassie, making three different kinds. Logan didn’t have to glance in the fridge to know it would be crammed full with platters of food prepped and ready to pop in the oven come morning.
He took the bench across from Cassie and propped his feet up next to her. “I hope you packed your appetite.”
Cassie looked up from the sandwich she’d already started on. “Don’t worry. Ever since we got here I’ve been starving.”
“It’s the Highland air.”
She laughed. “That’s what your mother said.”
He smiled. “Well, Mam’s right.” He looked at her then, watching her face carefully. “You sure you don’t mind spending your holiday here? Without your family?”
Cassie shook her head and set her sandwich down. “Are you kidding me? It’s fine, really. We usually go up to my mom’s sister’s place in Minnesota. You’ve rescued me from a weekend of speed walking at the Mall of America and having to eat Aunt Eleanor’s Jell-O.”
His confusion must have shown on his face because Cassie laughed again and explained. “Every Thanksgiving Aunt Eleanor makes these awful concoctions of fruit and Jell-O and God only knows what else. And they are always in these molds of animals. Last year it was chicken-shaped. I mean, a turkey would kind of make sense but, a chicken?” She shuddered. “And the thing about Jell-O is it wiggles … jiggles, really.” She stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. “It was like eating a giant, jiggling, orange creamsicle–flavored chicken nugget. Can you imagine?”
Logan chuckled as he tried to picture what the lass described. “I’m glad I was able to rescue you from such a cruel fate, then.” He fussed with his sandwich. “But what about your family? I’m sure they must miss you.”
“I doubt it. Does that sound horrible?”
“I dinna ken. Is it?” Logan realized how little he knew about Cassie’s family. During the last few months when they’d been together, in an effort to avoid talking about his own parents, Logan had avoided asking too much about hers.
She shrugged. “My mom and dad are usually busy off doing their own thing. I kind of like it, because it allows me to do my own thing too.” Cassie finished her sandwich and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “And I have Bonnie, of course. She’s like a sister.”
An image of Cassie’s friend, the redhead Theo fancied, flashed through his mind. “Right. How is Bonnie?”
A small pucker appeared between Cassie’s delicately arched chestnut brows. “We haven’t talked much lately. I’ve been so busy with the show and spending so much time with you…”
“What does she think of that? Of you spending so much time with me?”
“Well, it was her copy of the key to my place I gave you.” Cassie’s forehead smoothed and she smiled at him. “She’s happy for me. I’ve never…” She stopped, staring at the crumbs on her plate.
“Never what?” he pressed.
She kept her gaze lowered. “I’ve never been serious about a guy before.”
Logan’s breathing hitched. He shifted, setting his feet on the ground and leaning forward. “And now?” He reached across the table and nudged her, his fingers gentle.
“I think maybe…” Cassie lifted her chin and met his eyes. “I could be.”
* * *
Later that night, Logan lay awake in his old bed, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood room, a place both familiar and strange all at once. He was no longer the lad he’d once been, the boy who had slept in this bed and stared up at this ceiling.
For one thing, that boy still had a father.
How did Mam do it? How did she stay here, in this house, surrounded by the memories of what was, and face the reality of her loss each and every day? A decade later, his gut still went tight and cold at the memory of how Mam had clung to Da’s limp arm as she’d begged her husband not to leave her … not to die.
He rolled over and punched his pillow. It was fucked up how he still hadn’t gotten past Da’s death. It had been ten fecking years. He should be able to come to this town and be in this house without his heart turning to bloody stone, cold and heavy and dragging him under. He should be able to talk about his father without feeling like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
The shadows on the ceiling shrank to nothing as the darkness gave way, dawn filling the room with soft, gray light. With morning, the topic he’d been struggling to keep submerged bobbed to the surface. Like a slick silver fish, it darted through his mind, nibbling at his thoughts.
He’d said he loved her, and she’d said it back. But that had been in a moment of passion when they’d been caught up in each other, in the undeniable attraction they had for each other. But was that all it was?
Was Cassie serious about him?
Christ, was he serious about her? Did he dare risk it?
The questions continued to swim around in Logan’s skull long after the sun was full up, pale though it was, and ate at him most of the morning. He pushed the musings down, packing them up with all his other bloody emotional baggage, determined to enjoy the day with Cassie.
Unlike yesterday’s touch of warmth, today’s weather was cold and wet. Gray, soggy clouds sat heavy and low in the sky, looking as if they had no intention of going anywhere. It was a day for staying inside, for sitting by the fire with a glass of something warm.
As promised, Logan tried to help Mam in the kitchen, but before long she shooed him out, griping about how his “big braw body” kept getting in her way. After risking Mam’s wrath to brew Cassie some coffee, he suggested they pass the time playing cards.
“You sure I can’t help in there?” Cassie asked for at least the fifth time.
Logan glanced up from the hand she’d dealt him and shook his head. “Mam’s in her element. Trust me. She doesn’t get many opportunitie
s to prepare a big meal anymore.”
Cassie tossed out a card and drew another. “My mom’s not much for cooking.”
“Like mother, like daughter, hmm?” Logan asked, picking up the six Cassie had discarded. He placed the pair on the table.
“Hey!” Cassie protested.
“What?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “It was a fair move.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” She looked at her cards, mouth pursed. “I can cook. I just don’t enjoy it.”
“Don’t fash yourself, lass. I don’t care if you can cook.” He flashed a grin. “Remember, I told you I ken your talents lie elsewhere.” He waggled his eyebrows, reaching under the table to touch Cassie’s knee, his fingers brushing up her inner thigh. He might have explored further if the front door hadn’t blown open, his sister flying in on a blast of chill November air.
Cassie jumped, clapping her knees together, almost smashing Logan’s fingers in the process. He retreated and set his cards down. “Hello, Nettie,” he said drily, standing and crossing the parlor to greet his sister.
“Give me a hug, you pervert.” Janet dropped her bag and squeezed Logan tight. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” he said, and meant it. He’d missed his sister. Working in Chicago, he hadn’t realized how much. They’d been a team for so long. Seeing her now, he felt the pang of her absence over the last few months.
Janet patted him on the back and turned to Cassie. “Hello, again,” she said, moving to shake Cassie’s hand when the lass rose from her spot at the card table. “You’ll have to excuse my brother, he never could keep his paws out of the biscuit tin.”
Cassie blushed, but before Logan could tear into his sister, Mam came bustling out of the kitchen. “Is that my Nettie-girl? It is, it is!”
Getting Hot with the Scot--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 25