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Chapter Seven
Whiskey and Secrets
Logan scraped his last piece of pasta into his mouth and stuck the fork between his lips with a wink as he rummaged through his pack. A bag of M&Ms emerged, and he set it next to the whiskey bottle. Throwing the fork into his pack, he grinned. “How about a little game, if you’re feeling so adventurous?”
Uh oh. I might like any game that involved him and whiskey… a little too much.
“What kind of game?” I asked cautiously, eyeing his sly smile.
“A game of questions. If you answer, you get a piece of chocolate. If you pass, you take a sip of whiskey.” He opened the bag of chocolate.
I nodded. “Sure, but you’re playing as well. One for one?”
“Deal.” He laughed and set both items in his lap before staring across the fire at me.
His stare was ruthless. I hoped his questions would be less unnerving.
“What do you do when not reading or getting lost on a mountain?”
“Um, not a lot else. Besides school, I guess I prefer to be outside most days. So various things—running, hiking, all of it,” I said, gesturing to the burgundy boulders. “This.”
“But usually alone?” he asked, tossing an M&M into my awaiting palm.
Does he think I would come on this type of trip without mentioning a boyfriend?
“Yes,” I said. “But that’s a second question, so I get another piece.”
Logan placed a second one into my outstretched palm. “Can’t get anything past you, huh?”
Flicking the candy to the side of my mouth, I asked, “Why do you only like your job some days?”
Logan’s eyes darkened ever so slightly. “I think I’ll pass on that question.”
He uncapped the top, tilted the bottle to his lips, and took a small sip.
What would make Logan hate his job so much? He doesn’t seem like the type to care about what his coworkers gossip about. A controlling, asshole of boss might do it though.
Logan’s voice sounded like gravel when he asked, “Why did you choose anthropology?”
He didn’t like talking about work at all.
“It’s difficult to say.”
Don’t tell him. He won’t understand the uncontrollable urge to know more about the warrior and what he means. To be so close and yet have only part of the puzzle.
“That sounds like a pass to me,” Logan drawled, and he outstretched the arm holding the bottle.
I took a deep breath and slid my fingers around the neck. I cautiously brought the opening to my lips. The sweet dark flavor smoothly filled my mouth. My eyes fluttered closed as I let the flames roll down my tongue to the back of my throat.
I opened my eyes and turned back to the fire, handing Logan the bottle.
The side of his mouth turned up as he took it back.
“What do you do for fun?” I asked.
The whiskey warmed my body. The sun had disappeared behind the cliff, and stars were rapidly appearing in the sky. Along with the darkness, the wind began filtering through the valley.
“I like to hunt. And fish,” he said, casually popping chocolate.
