Page 27 of A Scottish Island Summer

Logan slid me another look. ‘You’re welcome.’

I fidgeted in my seat and snatched a look across at his stubbly profile. He was making me feel like a flustered idiot.

The scenery reeled past my window in a cacophony of pine trees bumping along the dramatic folds of landscape.

The interior of Logan’s truck smelled of old leather and there were tattered maps stuck inside the pocket of his door.

I leant forward into the footwell and rummaged around inside my bag to find my phone. I held it up to the passenger side window and recorded for a minute.

Then, I began scrolling through my social media. I also checked out River’s latest posts. They seemed to consist of her peering seductively out from under her sunglasses, as she waggled Techno Phones’ latest designer mobile.

I gritted my teeth. That should’ve been me!

‘Would you like some advice?’

Logan’s deep, Scottish rumble made me start. I jerked my head around to look at him. ‘No, but I get the impression that won’t stop you.’

He slowed and indicated left, driving past a patchwork of fields and rickety fences that looked vaguely like old broken teeth. ‘If you want to appreciate Skye for the true beauty that she is, you should put that thing down for a bit.’

I frowned. ‘It’s my job. My career.’

Logan concentrated again through the windscreen. ‘What? Gawping at technology?’

I bristled. ‘Blogging.’

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Logan’s mouth. ‘Right.’

I offered him a withering look. ‘And what do you mean by that?’

‘I didn’t mean anything.’

‘Yes, you did. It was the way you said it.’ I sat up straighter. ‘I might not go around gawping at rocks, but that doesn’t give you the right to downplay what I do.’

His hands shifted on the steering wheel. ‘I’m not downplaying what you do at all. I’m just suggesting that if you’d put that phone down for two seconds, you’d be able to appreciate how stunning this island is.’

‘If it stopped raining, that’d help.’

‘It isn’t raining at the moment,’ pointed out Logan, gesturing to the scenery spread ahead of us through the windscreen.

I made a grumpy tut and set my phone down in my lap.

‘Over there, that’s Dunvegan Castle,’ he explained.

The building’s buttery stone turrets erupted out of the trees on our left, all spikes and crenelations, with frilly brickwork running around the top of it. ‘It was built around the thirteenth century and is home to Clan McLeod.’ Logan nodded over at it. ‘It’s been occupied by the same family for eight hundred years.’

He glanced across at me. ‘Sir Walter Scott and the late Queen Elizabeth II visited it.’

I tried to appreciate the shiny vista of Dunvegan Loch fringing the view, but my mind kept shooting back to River’s smug face as she promoted the Techno Phones under that dazzling sunshine.

Logan’s attention drifted back to me. ‘Something bothering you?’

‘Oh, just work stuff,’ I replied.

‘Yes, well, hopefully you can forget about influencing for a while and relax.’

I shot round in my passenger seat. ‘Relax? Are you joking? I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere; I’m freezing my butt off and I’ve just bought a new wardrobe that my late great grandmother would approve of.’

‘Ah, but you’ve a capable, rugged, expert guide to accompany you.’