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“You look good too,” she said with a heated smile.
She’d been hassling him all evening to find out what was under his kilt, and he’d promised to show her later.
“You’d better appreciate it,” he said. “This isn’t exactly the weather for a kilt.”
Her gaze strayed to the snow-covered town spread out in front of them. The glittering lights strung across the high street looked magical against all that white. And at the bottom of the road was the ever-present blackness of the loch.
“I need to hire a decent photographer to take pictures of the town all year round. It would be good for marketing,” Agnes said. “Americans love scenes like this. It’s how they imagine the whole of Scotland to be. Either this or covered in heather, with grass swaying in a gentle breeze and men in kilts chopping wood under the sun.”
“You’ve spent way too much time thinking about this,” Logan said.
She ignored him as her eyes went wide, signaling she’d had another ‘brilliant’ idea. “We should do our own men-in-kilts calendar.”
“No.” He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t posing for any damn calendar.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “We’ll see,” she said, and he felt the sudden urge to run.
The pub’s carpark was full to bursting, but they were lucky and found a spot right near the door. Darcy leaped out first, excited to be dressed up and out on the town. Her pale green dress had been a Christmas present from his mother and it came with a full skirt that sparkled when it caught the light—something Darcy had told him at least half a dozen times.
“Hurry up,” she called. “I want to see what everyone’s wearing.”
Logan shared a knowing smile with Agnes as they made their way into the pub. The place was packed and, as they made their way to the restaurant, everyone grinned and called out their hellos.
“Been a long time since I’ve seen it this busy,” Logan commented.
“Where else is there to go around here?” Agnes grinned. “For now.” She had big plans to totally disrupt the running of the town.
To his surprise, Agnes’ sisters were waiting for them outside the restaurant doors. All of them dressed in various shades of green. He suspected it must be the family color, to match their eyes. When seeing them all together, it was hard not to feel a little stunned. With similar heights and builds, identical eyes, and startlingly different hair, the four women were breathtaking.
Agnes hugged her sisters, and they helped her out of her coat.
“You look beautiful,” Isobel said.
“So do you. And you’re out of Callum’s sight! I’m surprised he allowed it.”
“He’s dealing with the kids,” Isobel said. “And he made me wear this.” She tugged a necklace out of her dress. “It’s a panic button. It sounds an alarm on his watch.”
The sisters collapsed in hysterics over that, but Logan couldn’t understand why. It seemed sensible to him. “Are we going in, or are we going to stand out here chatting all night?”
“You go ahead,” Agnes said. “I’ve got a couple of things I need to tell my sisters first, without the men hearing.” She caught Drew’s eye. “I asked for a table near the kitchen, so better use the side door, it’s closest. You know the one I mean.”
“Sure.” Drew grabbed Logan’s arm and dragged him away.
“Don’t be too long,” Logan called. “I’m starving.”
“Just a couple of minutes. Promise.” She blew him a kiss.
They were halfway down the hall when Logan noticed Darcy wasn’t with them. “Run back and get your sister.”
“Don’t worry. She’ll come in with Agnes.” He pulled open the door at the end of the hall and ushered Logan inside.
He took two steps into the room before he stopped dead. The room wasn’t set up for dining, as it usually was. Instead, the tables were gone, and the chairs had been arranged in rows facing the front. There were pink flowers everywhere, and long lengths of green silken material draped across the ceiling in soft waves. Beside him, at the front of the room, was an arch covered in pink flowers and greenery.
And the new minister stood under it, a smile on his face.
“Drew? What’s going on?”
The men in Agnes’ family sat grinning at him from the first row, all wearing suits or kilts. The women of Knit or Die were there, as were the old men that made up the Domino Boys. Lake sat in the middle of the room, along with most of his work colleagues. In the front row were his parents, dressed in their finest. His father nodded at him, while his mother waved a handkerchief. He’d only ever seen her with a linen handkerchief once before…
