We turned the corner and headed down High Street. I couldn’t stop staring, absorbing the sights of Old Town Edinburgh. The buildings were packed side by side with adorable storefronts in brilliant colors. Rich Scottish accents poured from young and old guys sitting at pub tables as they talked faster than I could understand, pints in hand. Everywhere I looked I saw tartan patterns on clothing and even a few men in kilts. Their bare calves were strong and sturdy, covered with hair.
A couple of blocks down, Dad led us into a small restaurant with huge glass windows. A waitress with wildly curly gray hair and a warm face seated us and gave us menus. I scoured mine a little hesitantly at first but realized I recognized a lot of the food available and felt a strong sense of relief. An embarrassed flush crept up my cheeks. If my mom could read my thoughts right now, she’d make a pointed comment about me always making assumptions.
Mom and Dad ordered, and I got the sausage-and-mash bake—couldn’t go wrong with potatoes and sausage. My parents talked about tomorrow’s plans with Mollie and Steaphan, and I let my gaze wander around the room. The top half was blue wallpaper, while the bottom was wood-trimmed with neat tables lined up along the walls. It was cozy and lovely.
And the air smelled heavenly. I couldn’t wait to eat.
“—excited to find out where we’re really from,” Dad was saying. “I should be able to search all the way back to our home village, even.” He suspected our heritage could be traced way back to the Middle Ages, based on something he’d found online, and was hoping to confirm it with in-person research.
Our meals were delivered fast, and the food was every bit as good as I’d hoped it would be. I polished off my whole plate in record time. My parents got fish and fries—uh, chips, as our waitress called them.
We paid our bill and left the restaurant, then spent a couple of hours strolling along High Street to window-shop a bit. I was tempted to buy a bunch of stuff, but I didn’t want to spend all my money on the first day.
The temperature had dropped a few degrees, and I zipped my fleece up a touch. Crazy how much hotter Ohio was than Scotland. Good thing Mom and I had done our research beforehand and had packed appropriate clothing.
As the sun began to sink into the horizon, we made our way back to our hotel. My eyes were gritty and I was a bit sluggish. Mom was walking slower too, and even Dad’s enthusiasm was starting to fade. Fatigue definitely hit us hard after that big meal.
Still, I wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet. When we got inside, I begged to explore the hotel a bit. Mom and Dad reluctantly agreed. I grabbed a room key and took off before they could change their mind.
The building was old, and all its little details mesmerized me as I walked up and down the halls, trailing my fingers along the walls. Spindly metal wall sconces glowed with golden lamplight. Ornate wallpaper covered the halls in subtle patterns I could feel under my fingertips, and the carpeted halls were worn but soft. I was tempted to kick off my shoes and dig my toes in the plush brown nap.
There were a few modern, updated rooms in the hotel’s first floor as well, for business conferences, I assumed, bearing massive slabs of tables and sleek chairs. The dining hall was a large, blue-carpeted room with dark wooden tables in intimate clusters and small candles in the center of each smooth surface. The space invited people to come in and linger for a while. I needed to ask Mom and Dad if we could eat there tomorrow. Even though I was full, the rich scents of cooking food from the nearby kitchen tempted me to eat more.
When I got back to the lobby, I noticed a group of guys standing together. There was a mix of accents tangling—Irish, English, even German. One English guy had a shock of blond hair and stood a good foot taller than the rest. Super handsome. It was so tempting to take a quick picture to send to Corinne, but I didn’t want to look too obvious. But I made a mental note to tell her about it.
I headed upstairs, tiptoed into the room—my folks were already asleep—got ready for bed, then conked out almost before my head hit the pillow.
A. DESTINY is the coauthor of the Flirt series. She spends her time reading, writing, and watching sweet romance movies. She will always remember her first kiss.
ALEX R. KAHLER is one of those individuals who can’t sit still for very long, unless, of course, he’s writing. In the past few years he’s traveled from Seattle to Scandinavia for school and circus training. Because yes, when he isn’t writing or on the road, he works in the circus arts as an aerialist and assistant. He’s a big believer that if you want to do something, the only person stopping you is yourself. He is also an author for teens and adults, writing under the name A. R. Kahler. You can learn more about him and his travels at ARKahler.com.
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Simon Pulse
Simon & Schuster, New York
Also in the Flirt series:
Lessons in Love
Never Too Late
Portrait of Us
Sunset Ranch
Puppy Love
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Simon Pulse paperback edition February 2015
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Text copyright © 2015 by Simon and Schuster, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Destiny, A.
Love is in the air / by A. Destiny and Alex R. Kahler.
pages cm.—(Flirt)
Summary: When fifteen-year-old Jennifer attends circus camp to reach her dream of being a trapeze artist, she learns she is afraid of heights, but after one glimpse of Branden, the best trapeze artist at the camp, Jennifer begins falling for him, too.
[1. Camps—Fiction. 2. Circus—Fiction. 3. Love—Fiction. 4. Fear—Fiction.] I. Kahler, A. R. II. Title.
PZ7.D475Lo 2015
[Fic]—dc23
2014030468
ISBN 978-1-4814-2376-2 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4814-2378-6 (eBook)