Page 54 of Blindsided
Where the hell did that come from, Freya?
“Hi, guys!” Sloan says excitedly as the brood of strong men come waltzing up to the counter. They’re all wearing various forms of athleisure wear. I’ve learnt from being around this crowd for the past couple of years that even though this is their off month, they are still constantly working out. Sloan’s husband, Gareth, is the only one kitted out in jeans and a T-shirt. Since he’s retired, he’s filled out and rocking that “plump and happy” look that my mother always claimed to have. Although, even a plump and happy Gareth Harris is extremely fit by anyone’s standards.
The door rings again with the entrance of the Harris Brothers’ sister, Vi, her husband, Hayden, and Hayden’s brother, Theo, who’s Leslie’s husband. Quite a convoluted, overly connected bunch if I ever saw one.
“Who’s ready to watch our men become highlanders?” Vi squeals excitedly.
“I already have a kilt,” Camden says, shoving his twin brother, Tanner. “I wore one when Indie and I eloped, but Mac says I can’t compete if I’m not kilted out in Clan Logan, so…here I stand.”
Tanner cuts a menacing glare to Camden. “Must you remind us that you decided to selfishly get married without inviting a single member of your family?”
“Not this again,” Camden groans, rolling his eyes. “Our wives are best friends. We had our first children within weeks of each other. Surely you can let one life event slip by without being the absolute centre of attention.”
Tanner turns his eyes forward and whispers, “I’ll never forgive you.”
Vi shakes her head, like she’s used to these hysterics from her brothers. “I wish girls could wear kilts because I’m so excited for this trip to Scotland, and I really wish we had a costume.”
Leslie walks over to stand by Theo as she says, “Don’t worry, Vi. Sloan and I decided we’re going to get all the ladies fitted for outfits from the boutique this week. It’ll be our gift to everyone for Allie’s upcoming nuptials.”
Allie’s jaw drops as she stands holding Roan’s hand. “Are you kidding me? You can’t! You guys are already designing my wedding dress and Freya’s maid of honour dress. You’re fitting these guys for kilts. Gareth booked a freaking private jet for all of us to fly to Glasgow. This is all way too freaking much.”
“Stop saying ‘freaking’ so freaking much!” Sloan says, wrapping her arm around Allie. “You’re a Harris, and you’re getting married. This is how they are, and if you haven’t figured that out by now, they’re going to beat it into you with brute force that will involve lots of awkward hugs.”
Allie’s eyes begin to water, and bleddy hell, my own start to burn as well. Is it too late for the Harris family to adopt me? I’ve met their dad, Vaughn, and he’s still fit. Maybe he’d fancy a young, shapely bride for himself?
Just then the door to the shop opens again, and it’s Mac this time. My emotions take another hit as I watch him walk in, his ginger hair wild and unruly as usual, and his scruff shaggier than ever.You’d think the boy isn’t getting much sleep these past few days.
I smile at that thought, and his eyes find mine instantly. He winks quickly before looking around at everyone else and holding up the huge bolt of green plaid with red and yellow woven through. “The Clan Logan tartan has arrived!”
The group cheers excitedly while Sloan, Leslie, and I get to work measuring all the boys for their matching kilts. It’s going to be a lot of work getting them done in a week, but with the three of us working at it, we should be able to get it done before we leave next Friday afternoon.
When I finish measuring Booker, Mac comes striding up to me, holding out his well-worn kilt. He has an adorable sheepish look on his face. “My kilt could use a wee tune-up if at all possible.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And what’s wrong with it?”
“The bottom has come undone,” he states, and I run my finger along the frayed hemline.
“You’re going to have to put this on for me to pin it up properly.”
Mac waggles his brows at me. “Why don’t you just say you want to see a sneak peek of me in my kilt, woman?”
I roll my eyes and shove it into his chest. “Changing rooms are in the back.”
Moments later, Mac comes striding out in his Timberland boots with no socks, his white tee, and his kilt. My eyes drink in the sight of his muscular legs, because bleddy hell, if any man can wear a kilt, it’s this one.
His shit-eating grin indicates he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, but I do my best to hide it because Sloan and Leslie are just two stands over, measuring Theo and Hayden, while the rest of the Harris family is milling about nearby.
I clear my throat and ignore the burning in my ears. “Stand here please,” I state, pointing at the carpeted platform in front of a three-way mirror.
Mac hops up, his kilt swooshing with the movement. “This thing has had a lot of use over the years,” he says as I kneel down and begin slipping pins into the frayed hemline.
“This length okay?” I ask as I chance a glance at him in the mirror.
He quirks a brow at me, like he wants me to be doing something very different down there. His voice is huskier than before when he replies, “Aye, sure. That’ll do.”
I nod woodenly and slip the pins in, running around the side of him as quick as my fingers can handle. I swear I can feel Sloan, Leslie, and Allie all watching our interactions with great interest. I feel like I’m inside one of those aquariums with people are constantly tapping the glass.
“You’re going to love Dundonald, Cookie,” Mac states grandly. “There’s the Dundonald castle, fresh sea air, the smell of mud and filthy man. It’s intoxicating.”
