Page 84 of Loched in Love

“Welcome home, Ms. Pierson,” he says after stamping mine.

A heavy sigh of relief rushes from my lungs as we head toward the baggage claim. “See? Look at us, oh my gosh. Look at you legally in the country,” I say excitedly.

He slides the passport into his jacket, a huge smile spreading across his kissable lips as he glances around the brightly lit terminal and nods. “Aye, it feels good to be off the plane, and thankfully the silly paperwork went well, though I knew Maren’s handiwork would go off without a hitch. But it’s bloody crazy the number of blinking signs and things up here, Elena,” he says gesturing at all the terminal signage.

“Just wait until we hit the highway,” I tease him and pull him along by his hand. “But first we need to collect our bags and grab the rental car. Then it’s a short drive home to face the real test.”

He arches a dark red brow, a playful glint returning to his gaze. “You mean your four brothers?”

“Yep, my four brothers. Let’s see if you can get through the visit without using your charm magic,” I tease, laughing as we head out into the cold, salty New England air to start a whole new travel experience for my favorite monster.

But something tells me Lachlan and the boys will all be peas in a pod.

Lachlan Macbeth

“You’re not going to be cramped at all, promise. Travel in America is much different,” Elena says, smiling her sweet smile up at me as we make our way through the airport terminal.

After checking in at a desk, we walk out into the dark and echoing concrete vault of the parking garage and find a sleek and clean looking Suburban waiting for us. It’s a big beast of a machine that sits like a black boat on top of the asphalt, and for the first time riding in a human vehicle, I don’t feel too big or look like I’m trying to squeeze my large frame into a narrow space.

Elena slides into the driver’s seat with ease while I settle in comfortably into the wide and plush leather passenger captain’s chair, gripping the big arm rests as I do.

I stretch my long legs out fully down into the vehicle’s expansive floorboards and marvel at the fact that my knees aren’t jammed against the dashboard at all, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh that seems to come from the center of my chest, fully relaxing as I realize that it’s just the two of us alone again.

“Now this,” I say, a genuine grin spreading across my face as I adjust the high headrest to accommodate my broad shoulders, “is a proper vehicle. I don’t feel as though my knees are wrapped around my chin, Elena, there’s so much room in here!”

“Yeah. It’s a lot roomier than the little coupe. You’ll see, everything is bigger in America,” Elena says, amusement in her tone as her fingers grip the stitched leather of the steering wheel as she pulls up the navigation map on her phone.

The long drive out of Boston is a bit of an adventure itself, and I thoroughly enjoy every mile of the ride as Elena expertly navigates us free of the cluttered and horn blaring city traffic. Once we start to reach the outskirts of the city, the outside starts to look like the small coastal town I’ve been expecting.

The scenery begins to shift dramatically as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting pretty colors across the horizon, and it casts a warm amber glow over the shoreline.

To our right, miles of deep blue Atlantic water crash violently against the dark rocky cliffs and send big white sprays of seafoam high into the air.

The view looks remarkably familiar, almost like a tamer and gentler version of my beloved Scottish Highlands, minus the ancient looming mountains.

To our left, the road is bordered by thick and vibrant groves of pine trees and coastal oaks, their deep green needles catching the late afternoon light as the car maneuvers across the asphalt.

A weathered and salt-bleached wooden fence runs along the stone walls separating the motorway from a wide rolling marsh where tall seagrass waves lazily sway in the breeze.

Elena rolls the windows down just a crack and lets the sharp, briny scent blending with the faint and woodsy aroma from the pines in the air fill the car, mixing pleasantly with the leather of the interior.

All too soon, the coastal motorway gives way to quieter, tree-lined suburban streets and the wild marshes disappear, replaced by almost identical houses with neat, manicured lawns and wrap-around porches.

I notice Elena’s posture shift, her grip tightening on the steering wheel and breath catching slightly as we drive past what looks to be an old local diner.

“It’s just up here, the next left,” she says, her voice tightening just a bit with an anxious and excited energy that sets my own heart thumping.

And I can feel her nervousness begin to rise through the bond.

I squeeze her knee, trying to lend her some reassurance as the big car pulls onto a quiet, winding lane, shaded by towering maples a few hundred yards ahead where a large colonial home comes into view with bright navy blue siding and freshly painted white trim. It sits nestled against a dense and protective tree line like an old matron.

In the distance, I can just make out four figures standing squarely at the edge of the wide and paved driveway, standing like a literal defensive wall blocking our entrance. These must be her four older brothers.

They stand shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over their chest, their unified expressions unreadable through the glare on the glass.

Elena eases the vehicle to a halt and the gravel crunches loudly beneath the heavy tires of the big car as my gaze locks onto the unusual welcoming committee.

She turns off the engine, and a sudden and deafening silence stretches through the vehicle. I begin to feel a heavy anticipation before I turn my head and meet her gaze.