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My jaw drops as I watch him haughtily lick the icing from his lips. “Oh, very mature.”
Once he swallows, he brushes crumbs from his short stubble and smooths his suit. “Coffee sounds great now that you mention it.”
He rounds his desk before taking a seat, clearly done with this conversation, and any heat that had burned between us withers in a few fragile seconds.
I don’t want Logan in Anchorage Harbor. Hell, I’d prefer he not be on the island at all.
That harbor is my safe haven, and the group home is the one place on Topica Bay that’s judgment- and expectation-free. I can be as loud, colorful, and obnoxious as I want because they’re my kind of people. Unlike him.
Logan prioritizes money over everything, while I hardly keep anything in savings. He doesn’t want a family, but having one has been one of my greatest dreams for as long as I can remember.
He’s strait-laced, business-minded, and rough where every edge was once smooth. I’m the opposite of him in all the ways that count, but here I am, letting him wiggle his way back into my life, just like Carrie feared.
But I can’t say any of those things, and obviously, I’m not invited to his secret party, either. So I snatch the mug from his desk, march out of his office, and swear to myself that Logan Anderson will never get that close to me again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Penelope
Then…
Silas and my father are engaged in the world’s most boring debate across the field from where Logan and I sit. Blah, blah, business plans, and yadda, yadda, partnerships are all they ever talk about anymore, like they don’t even see the massive bonfire blazing toward the night sky.
It’s the first night of T’slasta, and all I want to do is sneak off and find the bottle of liquor I stashed in my secret spot earlier this morning.
“Come on.” I tug on Logan’s arm. “Hallevah is about to start.”
We’re sitting on some old blankets Mom pulled from the back of Dad’s truck, watching everyone else having fun and celebrating the history of Augustine, except for us.
He bends his long legs enough to rest his elbows on top of his knees, his eyes pensive as he watches the fire dance. “Dad’ll be pissed if I run off. He doesn’t like not knowing where I’m at.”
I peer over at our fathers. “They’re not paying us any attention. Besides, that homemade wine they’re sipping is going to keep them plenty distracted for a while… trust me.”
Our moms called it a night hours ago, returning to the ranch house to do whatever it is women their ages do, and Carrie ran off with her friends hours ago. But still, Logan doesn’t seem convinced.
Firelight plays with the planes of his face, flickering over his dark brows and long, reddish-brown hair. “Gah. You’re so handsome, it makes me sick.”
Those full lips twitch seconds before I’m caught in a headlock.
I screech, but it’s muffled by Logan trapping me against his chest. “Can’t hear you, sunshine. You’ll have to speak up.”
He vigorously rubs his knuckles into my scalp and shoving him does me no good. Opting for my weapon of choice—an elbow to the ribs—he grunts before I finish him by ruthlessly pulling his hair.
“Cheater.” He laughs, nudging me hard enough that I nearly topple over.
When a couple of locals join our fathers at their table, I stand in a wobbly rush. “I win.”
Logan glances at his dad warily, and for what has to be the thousandth time this summer, unease wrenches my gut. It’s always like this with him—checking with Silas before he does anything, and always jittery whenever he doesn’t.
“Don’t worry, Cinderella. I’ll have you back before you turn into a pumpkin, I promise.”
Reluctantly, he takes the hand I’m holding out for him. At his full height, Logan towers over me, but there’s something comforting in the way I fit perfectly against him.
My stomach flips when he murmurs into my hair, “One of these days, I’m going to tell you no.”
Biting my bottom lip, I peer up at him. “But not tonight.”
He chuckles, deep and warm, before brushing his thumbs across the freckles marking my cheeks. “Not ever.”
