Page 30 of Highlands Summer Wedding

They exchanged a glance, their excitement waning.

I got down on the ground and adjusted my camera angle. “One last time, because you’re only in wedding attire at Kilt Rock in the Isle of Skye once, right?”

Angus looked unconvinced. “We’ll be coming back.”

I suppressed an eye roll. “You get my point, Angus!”

They jumped one final time, and I took a long string of photos, capturing every single moment. It was perfect. Pure, uncomplicated joy—the kind that’s hard to fake and impossible to direct.

I set down my camera and nodded at them. “Great job.”

Caitlin picked up the skirt of her dress. “Ready when you are.”

We drove back to Portree, and Angus dropped Max and I at our rental. “Dinner?”

“I’ve got some prep work to do for a 6 a.m. call time tomorrow morning, so I’m out,” said Max. “Abby, feel free to join them. I’m going to be tied up the rest of the night.”

“Well, it’s a lot of extra driving for you, Angus. Besides, I need to get to work on these photos,” I said.

“No worries either way,” said Caitlin.

“We’ll just stop at the chippy down the hill from us,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”

We satat a picnic table with a breathtaking view of the water below. We split an order of Cullen Skink and a few oysters. The tide was coming in, and the salty air made the oysters that much better.

Max poured a dram of Talisker into a paper cup he’d picked up at the water station.

“It’s like surround-sound, but for taste,” I mused, as I downed another oyster, following it with a sip of whisky.

“It’s amazing here, in general. I’m so happy I get to do three films here. I’ve never had more than a few months in a single location.”

I hesitated, staring down at my plate. “I know, tell me about it.”

“It could be nice to stay in one spot for a few years. To feel some permanence. A home,” he continued.

Five years too late.

I drew in a steadying breath. “Better get you back—those call sheets won’t prepare themselves.”

CHAPTER 13

Ashrill beeping pulled me awake. I buried my head under the pillow. The sound continued. Tossing my pillow aside, I pushed my sleep mask onto my forehead. I squinted into the perpetual summer twilight of a Scottish night and grasped for my phone. 4:47 a.m. Not my phone. I shuffled down the hallway toward the source—Max’s room.

I pushed the door open to find his tanned, muscular leg hanging out from the covers. I inhaled sharply, trying to locate the noise rather than imagine his running routes or gym routine.

Scanning the room, I finally found the culprit—his phone. It was the most god-awful alarm I’d ever heard, and he was softly snoring right through it.

It lay on the other side of the bed, near the wall. I tiptoed over, stretching across his sleeping form. My fingers had nearly reached it when he shifted beneath me. I lost my balance and was suddenly sprawled across him, my weight pressing against his morning… situation. I sucked in a breath. It had been months since I’d been this close to anyone.

He murmured my name, instinctively reaching out to pull me closer.

Grateful for the pilates classes I’d had back in LA, I hoisted myself back up. I wobbled above him, one arm still extended toward the phone—almost, almost—shit!I lost my balance completely and found myself lying directly on top of him in a way that felt all too familiar. My face hovered mere inches away from his. He jolted awake and pulled back from our almost-kiss—though certain parts of him remained enthusiastically present.

Max blinked hard, trying to orient himself. “Abby! What are you doing?”

I carefully pulled away and leaned back against the wall. “Your alarm was screaming, and it’s not even 5:00 in the morning. I was trying to turn it off.”

He glanced at the clock. “Dammit! The call time is 6 a.m.”