Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
L ogan’s flat was located at the top of a solid, grey stone block of apartments.
The soda orange streetlamps were pinpricks from his sitting room window, strung along all the way to the harbour, like a necklace of amber pearls.
His abode was minimalist, with a dark, mahogany floor, arty black and white photographs of Skye on the walls and dark sheepskin rugs.
In the narrow hallway was a large cinematic print of Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, cracking his whip with one hand and holding on to his famous hat with the other.
I smiled up at it. Logan caught me. ‘I told you I was an Indy fan.’
His kitchen was located on the right-hand side of the hallway and was a galley style, with glossy charcoal and steel fittings and cupboards. ‘Please make yourself comfy.’
I sighed, sinking down onto Logan’s black leather sofa. ‘That sunset was spectacular, but I feel like I need warming up.’
As soon as the words tripped out my mouth, I wanted Logan’s sofa to swallow me up.
Engage your brain, Darcie! What are you saying?
Logan glinted at me from his sitting room doorway. ‘I’m sure I could oblige.’ There was a loaded pause. His mouth was doing that wolfish thing again.
My stomach swished.
Moments later, he reappeared and handed me a stripey mug of strong tea. He’d made himself a black coffee. On his mug was the caption, Geologists take nothing for granite.
I gestured to his mug and smiled. ‘Nothing like a pun.’
‘Oh, us geologists have a wicked sense of humour.’ He sat himself down in the armchair opposite me and took a grateful sip of his coffee. He stretched out his long, muscular legs.
A question niggled at me and I found myself asking it. ‘Why did you take me up to Neist Point this evening?’
Logan’s gaze shone over the rim of his mug. He drank a few sips. ‘I was hoping that sunset tonight might seduce you, make you fall in love a little bit with Skye.’
Logan’s words made me grip my tea tighter. What the hell was happening to me? Why was I behaving like this? I was used to feeling in control, being able to manage my feelings and focus on my goals and objectives. Now, I’d transformed into a self-conscious, blushing wreck whenever this man so much as looked at me.
I turned my attention back to my mug of tea and hid my face in it. I could feel Logan studying me, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Darcie. Is something happening here? Between us, I mean?’
Irritation settled on his features as his mobile rang before I could answer. ‘For pity’s sake! Excuse me a second.’ He set his mug down on the glass coffee table and strode out of his sitting room to take the call.
For something to do, I fumbled for my phone in my bag, which was down by my feet. What was going on between Logan and me? Was there something happening? It felt like there was.
My fingers danced across my phone keypad and I scrolled through social media, trying to take my mind off Logan, but it was useless.
My emotions were careering everywhere. I’d never met anyone like him before. He was confident in who he was, something I wasn’t used to. A lot of the guys I came across in my line of work were either from old money or keen to make a name for themselves by dating someone who was in the public eye.
Not like Logan. He was sure of what he stood for.
I refocused on my phone and then froze when a post caught my eye.
River sodding Banks! She’d done it again!
This time, there were photos of her alongside some famous names. Apparently, she’d been chosen as a contestant for the next series of the celebrity show, Sing When You’re Winning .
Her victorious face beamed out. ‘I’ve been dying to tell you all…’ she gushed in the caption.
My jaw tightened so hard I thought I was going to crack my teeth. Trust her to secure a spot on a show like that. Could she sing? It didn’t really matter if she could. She would’ve secured a great appearance fee and the publicity alone would be priceless.
I continued to stare down at her pouting face, surrounded by her long, blonde dreadlocks.
I had to up my game. I couldn’t allow my career to slide just because a handsome guy was flirting with me. I stared around Logan’s flat.
I had to decide what was important here. Reboot. Refocus on my priorities and what I wanted to achieve.
I wasn’t here on Skye for a holiday. Of course, the sunset was magnificent and it’d been a gorgeous way to spend the evening—it had also been so special sharing it with Logan—but I was here for work. That was the bottom line.
I glowered down at River Banks’s glossy face again.
What was I doing here with Logan?
I was letting my feelings for him take over and muddy my judgement. I could rely on my career, but as for relationships? No. I’d learnt that I’d only get hurt.
I snatched up my bag and got to my feet. This is for the best, I kept repeating to myself over and over. You’ll be relieved you did this, tomorrow morning.
Logan came striding back into his sitting room. ‘Sorry about that. It was Robbie on the phone, asking me for some relationship advice! He must be desperate if he wanted to talk to me.’ His voice faded as he caught sight of me clutching my bag.
I took in the way his lips curved down in disappointment and the way his shirt hugged his shoulders as he pushed them back.
‘Are you leaving?’ His brows gathered in confusion.
‘Yes, sorry, Logan. I just remembered I’ve got a couple of work emails I have to send.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to spending some time with you.’ The hurt in his eyes stung me but I tried not to register the burrowing guilt I was feeling.
‘Thank you for the gorgeous picnic and for taking me to see that sunset tonight. I loved it.’
Logan’s eyes dimmed, but he managed to conjure up one of his delicious smiles. ‘You’re welcome. I thought you would.’
As we slipped on our coats in readiness for Logan to drop me back at the guest house, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
He was doing his best to sound nonchalant and casual, but there were flecks of disappointment in his eyes.
A dull, leaden weight sat in the pit of my stomach. Right now, I felt like a petulant idiot who didn’t know what she wanted.
No, scrub that.
I did know what I wanted.
But I couldn’t have both.
I’d made my decision.
* * *
The local restaurants and the Old Dog and Duck pub were throwing out cosy glows of light onto the pavement as we drove past, and I buried myself deeper into my coat, avoiding looking at Logan.
This evening had been lovely. Sharing that sunset with its explosions of colour with Logan had been special. Then there was the gorgeous picnic he’d brought with him. The care and attention to detail he’d put into it had truly touched me.
OK, so Iona had helped him, but nevertheless, it was so thoughtful.
And then what?
I’d taken fright and left.
I struggled to convince myself that it was for the best. But if I’d done the right thing, why did my heart feel like it’d been crushed underfoot, like those shells on the Coral Beach?
At first, I’d thought him annoying and overly upbeat. But the more I got to know him, the more I realised what a special man he was. Not to mention that he had the most luscious, full lips and as for those striking, light grey eyes…
I bit back a lump in my throat. Logan had looked so wounded when I’d said I had to leave, but he had quickly reverted to his charming smile and tried to brush it off. That seemed to be his default mode.
I stared out of the windscreen at the chipped stars sprayed overhead, eager to get back to my guest room, peel off my clothes and bury myself under the duvet.
Even though the centre of Portree looked magical tonight, the creamy moonlight spinning down onto the stippled roofs and chimney pots, I felt hollow and off-kilter.
Logan looked pensive as we approached The Gorse, and as he pulled his truck to the kerb, he forced a smile. ‘I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. More wonders of Skye to see!’ His voice sounded jovial, but his eyes still looked wounded.
I opened the passenger side door and climbed out, my breath coiling into the cold night air. ‘I’m sure there are. Thank you again for a lovely evening, Logan. Goodnight.’
Logan gave a little salute and drove off, while I stood there on the pavement, watching his rear lights blur away up the dark street.
I was just about to tap up the steps of the guest house when a noise from behind me made me flinch. What was that? It sounded like someone else’s footsteps. I turned round to check, but the street was deserted.
I frowned and was about to climb the other few steps, the thought of hiding under my duvet a very appealing one, when I experienced the sensation of being watched.
I spun round again, but there was no one. There was just the lit-up pavement, with the stars thrown up in the sky. Everything looked like the set of some romantic film. It made me feel even worse about how I left things with Logan this evening.
Once again, the prospect of jumping into my crisp, fresh bedsheets urged me on.
Then a hand shot out of the darkness and tapped me on the shoulder.
I let out a high-pitched shriek and whirled round, ready to give whoever it was a mouthful and a sodding great whack in the face with my bag.
I lifted it from my shoulder, ready to swing it in the direction of my assailant. The fact I was fighting back might make them change their mind about trying something. I’d scream again too. Make a commotion and draw attention. Surely someone would see or hear me?
I opened my mouth to let rip with an earth-shattering scream, but the figure took a step closer and dropped their arms from over their face.
It took a few seconds for my mind to catch up with who I was looking at.
It was him.
It was the bearded man.