Chapter 10
Penelope
“We look ridiculous,” Logan mutters from beside me on the zip line platform. “I know you did this just to torture me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, hiding a smile at the sight of him stuffed inside a borrowed Adventure Awaits graphic tee that’s a whole size too small and cargo shorts that barely reach his knees.
“You look ridiculous.” I pat the fanny pack George gave me that’s filled with a pouch of water and a few emergency cinnamon candies. “I look good.”
He places his helmet on his head, unamused by my wiggling brows, and I do my damndest to avoid all that flexing muscle I have no business ogling. “Consider it payback for hazing me at the office.”
“For your sake, you better hope this gets us that deal.” He buckles his helmet while I slip mine on, clipping it once it’s secure. “And don’t expect me to take it easy on you.”
“Ooh no. I’m so scared.” I shudder, earning a side-eye. “Besides, I’d be disappointed if you did.”
We stand on a wooden platform about twenty feet off the ground, with miles of mountain ranges donning coats of vibrant green foliage. We’ve been transported to our own private jungle where we’re left to the sounds of tropical birds, blending their high-pitched songs with the low rumble of frogs and chittering bugs. The air is humid, but we’re cooled by a thin mist that tickles my skin and forms tiny dew drops on my arms.
“You’ll start by racing each other through four different lines,” George says, recapping some basic do’s and don’ts. “We’ve built the attraction to be easily accessible for our guests. For your safety, personnel will be stationed at every checkpoint, but you’ll have the freedom of clipping yourselves in and out of each of the five lines throughout the course.”
Adrenaline bubbles under my skin until I’m practically giddy while two line workers secure our harnesses, then teach us how the hook mechanisms work.
“When you reach the fifth and final line, our guides will help secure you both to ride in tandem. There, you’ll enjoy an incredible view of the park, from the highest point of the course, on the longest track, before zipping back down to home base.”
I bounce on the balls of my feet, rubbing my palms together. “Yeah, yeah. Make sure I’ve kicked his ass by the time we reach the final platform. Got it.”
George’s smile widens before heading for the ladder that will take him back to ground zero. “I’ll meet you both back at the clubhouse once you’re finished. Have fun.”
We approach the two parallel cables, stretching from this point to the next, and ready ourselves to race.
“Don’t look so sure of yourself,” Logan goads after attaching the carabiner on his harness to the safety hook above his head.
His expression shifts from the permanent scowl he’s worn since we arrived to something lighter, something borderline playful.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what a dirty little cheater you are.” My belly flips when I poke the center of his chest, remembering how he used to distract me so he could win whatever game we were playing.
He scoffs. “I’m not going to let you win, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I’m implying that if you’d like your balls to remain intact, you better not throw me off on purpose.”
“Tell you what. Since my body parts seem to interest you so much, why don’t I pencil in some ‘ball fondling’ time for you when we get back to the office?”
The arrogant wink he gives when my mouth pops open comes too naturally for a couple of strangers.
“In your dreams, buddy.”
I swear I hear him mumble, If you only knew, but I’m already at the edge of the platform, preparing to bolt the minute the guys give us the cue.
“Why don’t we spice things up with a little wager?” Logan says when we’re instructed to squat and wait for the green light on the opposite end of the line.
“As if working for you isn’t torture enough?”
His eyes wrinkle with amusement, and god, I hate that stupid grin.
“If I win, I get to take you on a date.” Heart hammering, I sputter to force the refusal from my throat, but he cuts me off with, “Wherever and whenever I want. No questions asked.”
Surely he’s fucking with me? There are a million and one things Logan could ask for—my mouth permanently duct-taped or a manicure for my mangled nails for starters—but he chooses something as intimate as a date?
“Fine. But only because your idea of a date is probably something lame, like a late night at the office.”
Logan sits back on his heels, and I mimic the motion. The men at our backs grab our harnesses and a renewed wave of adrenaline courses through my veins.
“Time’s ticking.” Eyes flashing with a devilish gleam, he drawls, “Care to make a counter bet, or would you prefer to be at my mercy?”
I glance at my sore, blistered feet dangling above the misty forest floor in a pair of Adventure Park Crocs. “If I win, I will wear whatever I want to the office. And no more high heels.”
“Pity,” Logan tsks, facing the course ahead. “They do wonders for your ass.”
My jaw drops, but he’s gone in a blink as the light switches from red to green, and the man at his back pushes him forward.
“I said no cheating!”
His laughter drifts through the treetops as I kick my legs out and race after him.
Wind smacks my cheeks, the forest floor blurs beneath me, and the ziiip of the hook above my head accelerates the excitement rip-roaring through me as we glide through the forest.
Logan reaches the second platform before I do and unhooks himself before sprinting to the next. We’re neck and neck, racing and traveling through the air over valleys, parted by a bubbling stream, but the farther into the jungle we go, the harder it becomes to catch him.
“So, I’m imagining this date,” he says, raising his voice when he’s half-way across a wood-slatted rope bridge, “and there you are, wooed by my endless charm and hanging on my every word. But I just can’t get the details of your dress right.”
“Probably because it’s never going to happen,” I mutter to the pit below, brimming with lustrous plant-life and striking, multi-hued flowers.
My palms sweat as I cling to the rope bridge, at least ten steps behind him, and he has the audacity to stop at the other side, watching me thoughtfully.
“I think you’ll look best in a fitted dress. Preferably one with a corset. Nice and restrictive, so you’ll behave.”
Not on your life, pal.
He’s being intentionally obnoxious, fantasizing about me in a dress he knows I’ll hate, and as soon as my wobbly legs get me there, I’m going to pop his big, fat head off his body. “Blue would look nice, but I’ll settle for black if you insist.”
He blocks my path when I reach the last step. Those thick arms and strong hands spread across the two posts holding the bridge.
A switch has flipped, lowering the rigid guard he arrived with, and I don’t know if I should be glad for the change, or afraid of what may awaken from it.
Leaning in too close for comfort, he rumbles, “Then again, red always was your color.”
My neck flushes at his teasing, feeling his words fan across my cheeks. But it’s all a ruse. A ploy to throw me off so he can beat me and brag about his win for the unforeseeable future.
Determined not to let him have the upper hand, I jerk my chin up. “You know what they say about being too cocky…”
“What’s that?”
Delicate wisps of desire tickle my insides when he gives me that look. The one that’s dangerously close to convincing me he’s not joking.
I duck beneath his arm, scrambling to steady my feet, and holler over my shoulder, “It’s a one-way ticket to having your ass handed to you!”
I take off for the next line, with Logan not far behind.
“I do hope you’ll be doing the handling,” he calls back.
That laugh of his could almost make me forget what I’m doing here to begin with, especially when I’m laughing right along with him.
“Not me. Karma,” I say, scurrying to clip myself in.
“Ah. Well, I don’t concern myself with intangible ideas like Karma.” Logan’s fumbling with the hook, cussing like mad when he pinches his finger, but his struggle gives me the advantage I need to take off ahead of him.
I relish the whirring of the cable as I glide across it, tipping my head back and watching the world zip by in a dizzying blur of green, white, and blue. Enormous black-and-red birds soar through the canopies, and unable to stop it, a squeal of pure delight bursts from the base of my lungs.
When I spin to face Logan, his jaw is set, eyes fully on me and so focused on trying to catch up that he doesn’t notice the movement in the low-hanging branch on his left.
I try to shout as a brown ball of fur launches through the air, but he’s pelted in the chest before I can warn him in time.
Logan panics, swatting at the squirrel that clings to his back, and I watch with horrified amusement as it crawls under the neckline of his shirt.
The lump scurries around his chest while his arms and legs flail, but my laughter’s cut short when I’m jolted to a stop at the end of the line.
“Get it off me. Get it off me,” he chants, swinging to a head-jerking stop beside me.
When his feet touch the landing, I disconnect my carabiner as fast as I can, but the second I reach for his, a furry head with beady black eyes pops out of his shirt sleeve.
Logan’s barely breathing when I slowly lower my hand to my fanny pack.
“Don’t. Move.” I carefully retrieve a piece of candy before setting it on the wood railing staked into the rocky ledge below. “Nice tree rat. Here you go.”
We lock eyes with the squirrel for a single, tension-filled moment.
“Oh my god,” I shriek when, in a quick burst, the furry little beast springs out of Logan’s shirt, snags the morsel, and escapes into a nearby tree.
While he frees himself from the line, I stagger backward and double over with my hands on my knees. My snorting echoes through the valley, but I can’t stop. Not even when a tear runs down my cheek.
Logan takes his time stalking toward me, his tone a blend of mockery and intrigue. “Entertained, are you?”
When I glimpse the tiny scratches on his neck and cheek, I hug my sides, unable to catch my breath. “A fucking… squirrel… attacked you.”
He keeps walking, not a hint of a smile on his stoic face.
“Oh, come on. Are you telling me that wasn’t funny? That was instant Karma.”
His darkening gaze turns malevolent, clenching my insides with a thrill. My smile falls along with my stomach.
“Wait.” I stumble backward, heart beginning to pound. “Don’t even think about it…”
“I suggest you run.” The warning comes out deep, gravelly, and I almost stand my ground.
Almost.
Turning my back on him, I bolt with another squeal barreling up my throat.
Like a predator playing with his catch, Logan bides his time, giving me a few seconds’ head start. My feet slap against the uneven earth as I race toward a cobblestone tower where the next checkpoint will take us higher up the mountainside, to a terrain that’s less lush and more craggy.
Daring a backward glance, I find him barreling after me, and I hook a hard left through the opening, hoping to catch him off-balance. My plan works momentarily, sending him careening into the metal rail at the bottom of the stone steps that I’m taking two at a time.
“Ha!” I holler into the winding stairwell.
Endorphins flood my system as his pounding steps echo behind me, growing closer, no matter how many turns I take. I hold on to my jiggling harness, pushing my tired legs harder up the final flight, but the weight of the thick straps and metal attachments is too much to keep up this pace.
“You’re losing momentum, sunshine.” The primality in his words skates up my spine, but just as I reach the last step, I trip.
“Oof.” Air is forced from my lungs when I’m grabbed from behind.
My arms fly out to brace my fall, but Logan twists, tucking me into him as we hit the packed dirt covering the top of the tower.
We skid a few inches, and when I blink my eyes open, I quickly realize I’m plastered to his upper body, staring down at a pair of blues that are drugged by arrogance and accented by a ray of sunlight streaking through them.
Tiny specks of dust settle around us, swirling in the light, mingling with our breaths, and his heated skin warms my palms through the moisture of his sweat-soaked shirt.
His gaze falls to my mouth, and when it flicks back up, there’s enough desire in that stare to burn this whole place to the ground.
We’ve been here before, haven’t we, sunshine?
He doesn’t have to remind me. Hidden in the jungle, just the two of us, all those stolen kisses and quiet nights in an unfinished treehouse rise to the surface. Along with the soft, pleasure-filled touches we shared the night I naively handed him my innocence—and my heart to boot.
“There’s nowhere left to run, Pen,” he says thickly, and I wonder if he’s reliving those memories, too.
He’s trying to get in your head. Nothing’s changed.
Shoving off him, I clear my throat and dust my hands down the front of my shorts.
I must be imagining the longing that pulls at his brows before he quickly shutters it away.
“We’ve got one race left,” I say, extending a hand and helping him to his feet.
His smirk is positively sinful. “And we’re tied.”
My head swims when he grasps the front of my harness, walking me back toward the cables.
“Logan,” I protest, grasping the straps on his chest when my foot threatens to slip off the stony edge of the tower. “What are you doing?”
Never taking his eyes off mine, he guides my carabiner up to the hook on my side of the track and clips me in. “Better make this one count.”
I gulp lungfuls of air when I sit low, watching as he readies himself before counting us down. “Three… Two…”
“One,” I finish, gripping the straps and pushing off early, but he’s already in motion.
“Nice try,” he gloats from my side.
I shift my weight forward, gaining speed while I call out to any other vicious tree rodents, “Come and get him!”
I take the lead for the first half, but as we near the end, Logan manages to spin himself backward and flip me off the last quarter of the way.
Bastard.
He’s already disengaged by the time my feet hit the surface of the final landing.
“I hate to brag…”
“Then don’t.”
“But I won.”
“I’m well aware of that, thank you very much,” I grumble.
He walks beside me to the final track with his head held high. “Red it is.”
I’m about to tell him where he can shove that smug satisfaction when I spot a sign posted next to the railing where two crew members are waiting for us.
“Wait,” I say to Logan when we approach the jump point.
Okay, the 850 feet thing freaks me out—a lot more than I expected—but it’s that, and the depiction of two people riding a single cable which has me backpedaling.
“We’re going on the same line together?”
“Didn’t you hear George say the last line was tandem?”
“No. All I was hearing were thoughts of my victory.”
His cheek dimples. “So much for that.”
When I brave a peek over the edge of the platform, the elevation and the yawning valley below coils my stomach into knots.
“Oh-kay, yeah. That’s a big fucking nope.”
He takes my hand, stopping me from backing away. All the humor his gaze held moments ago fades to something closely resembling concern. And that can’t be right, can it?
Because sure, we’re having a little fun, but that doesn’t mean Logan still cares about me.
“Hey. It’s okay,” he says, drawing me closer.
The man and woman working the track hurriedly strap and clip us together so we’re facing each other. “We’ll be more secure this way. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Thousands of nerves jolt beneath my skin like angry bees in an unstable hive. The word ‘no’ deletes itself from my vocabulary when Logan bends his strong legs to sit back, stretching the tether on his harness, and taking me down with him.
The woman helps position my legs over his thighs, and like I’ve touched a live wire, my whole body jerks.
There’s no time to map out the points where our bits and pieces are rubbing because panic blares through my system when I glance up at the swaying line. “Oh, fuck. Oh, no. I can’t, Logan. I can’t do this.”
“What are you—” He’s silenced by my heels digging into his back and my fingers gripping his shoulders.
I smash my face into his neck and shriek.
“Fucking hell, woman. You did the other four with no problem,” he grunts when I squeeze his neck harder, clinging to his waist.
But it’s my trembling that has his hand gliding up and down the ridges of my spine in long, soothing strokes.
His mouth brushes the shell of my ear, wracking my body with more shudders. “I’ve got you, Pen.”
“Hold on,” the man says before shoving us off the platform in one fluid motion, and suddenly, we’re soaring through the air.
Logan’s chuckle tickles my cheek, but I cling to his sides, keeping my eyes shut as the line bobs above our heads.
“What are you doing?” I pant when he turns my head and tucks it under his chin.
“Open your eyes.”
I give the slightest shake, brushing my cheek against his chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
His laugh is the rumbly kind, vibrating deep enough to rattle my bones. “Technically, I am the boss of you.”
“Semantics.”
“Trust me. You’re missing an incredible view.”
I pry my eyes open to the most astonishing sight of the entire tour. The misty mountain air is crisp, and the panoramic view of rolling green hills stretches out before us, beneath a sky so brilliantly blue it takes my breath away.
“Look over there.” Logan says, pointing at a waterfall cascading into the river we passed when we arrived.
A flock of red and blue parrots soar below our feet, squawking as if saying hello, and with Logan’s arms still holding me tight, I finally crack a smile.
“I guess it is pretty beautiful.”
He’s gazing out across the terrain with a look so serene, it begets the stiff and orderly man I’m just getting to know, reminding me of the boy I once loved.
Maybe that’s why I choose this moment to use the sky as my confessional. Regardless of what happens from here, I need him to know one truth.
“I didn’t sell her ring, Logan. I… I would never do that.” His blue eyes, a startling contrast to all the colors swirling past us, capture mine. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you,” he says tightly. “And I suppose I should thank you for pushing me to do this, too.”
Almost absently, he adds, “It’s been a while since I’ve allowed myself a bit of fun.”
We’re descending quickly now, faster and faster, gliding toward the end, and at last, I smirk. “Maybe I make a half-decent assistant after all.”
* * *
I convince Logan to stop for a bite to eat at one of my favorite food truck spots before we head back to Summit Estates. He’s predictably reluctant, but when Javier confirms my claim that Shrimpy’s has the best shrimp tacos on this side of Keerah, he caves.
We’re back in our stuffy work attire, seated at a table by the waterfront where boats drift lazily in and out of the marina, accompanied by the soft jingle of signal bells.
It’s been half an hour since we left, but already, Logan’s mask has been replaced, leaving the excitement of our afternoon secretly stowed behind the gates of Adventure Park.
My feet throb and my muscles ache, but there’s something calming about being by the water at sundown. Like I could melt into the chair across from him and stay here, listening to the quiet bustling of the marina all evening long.
I fidget with my skirt, crossing and uncrossing my ankles as the silence stretches between us. The urge to fill the void coils around my neck, choking me until I finally give in.
“Strong work back there, Penelope,” I say, impersonating the stone-faced man across from me. “Couldn’t have secured that contract without you.”
Logan gradually drags his gaze from the marina to me.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Anderson. You’re too kind.” I smile, fluttering my eyelashes.
“Are you finished?” he asks, feigning apathy when he’s, honest to god, the worst actor on this planet.
We both know I’m hilarious.
I circle my hand in his general direction. “Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from, with you being so damn uptight all the time.”
I know I’ve struck a nerve when he tugs at his earlobe—a classic Logan tell that he’s irritated or uncomfortable.
“I’m not uptight.”
“That’s the most uptight response you could have given.”
Situating his ankle over his knee, he brushes me off with a half-hearted humph, and returns his attention to the water.
Alrighty, then.
“I suppose you did okay for your first time.”
“Just okay?” I gawk. “In case you’ve somehow forgotten, I got us the advertising agreement, exactly as you wanted.”
He traces his lower lip, studying me thoughtfully. “How did you know that would work?”
“What?”
“Trying out the course. It seemed to loosen him up some, made him more willing to accept our offer.”
“Oh, the game wasn’t part of the plan. I just thought it sounded fun.”
That earns me a glare. Lowering his leg, he shifts so he’s facing me fully. “You had me running around the jungle all afternoon, sweating my ass off, and neglecting responsibilities because you thought it looked fun?”
“Um, sh-yeah. Are you telling me it wasn’t?” My brows pinch as I watch him check his phone for what has to be the millionth time. “I believe you thanked me for shoving you headfirst into said ‘fun,’ if I heard you correctly.”
More silence before he finally sighs. “Sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind, and there are some things I need to take care of back at the office.”
“Do you do anything else besides work?” I don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but the judgment is out there, flapping in the wind like a sail on a boat.
“I bake,” he says after a beat. “Not well. But I’m learning.”
That takes me completely by surprise. “The CEO of Summit Estates is a closet baker. Who’d have thought?”
“It’s relaxing. Helps take my mind off the strict schedules and never-ending meetings. But I can never get the measurements right. I’m always under or over pouring.” A charming smile plays across his lips as he ducks his chin. “I accidentally turned cookies into pancakes once… It was a whole thing.”
“Heavy emphasis on the ‘not well’ part, then.”
That I’m able to pull a laugh from him, no matter how soft, makes my chest constrict.
I wince when I shift in my seat, these damn heels digging into the blisters around my ankles.
“Here, let me help you,” Logan says abruptly, scooting to the very edge of his seat and reaching for a foot.
“I’m fine. No biggie.” I jerk it back, grinding my molars when the back of my heel digs deeper.
When I shoo his hands away, I’m met with a stern scowl that’s darkened by the shadows the night brings. “It’s a massage, Pen. Not an attempt to seduce you.”
I want to argue that foot massages are, in fact, quite seductive, but I throw my hands up instead. “Fine, fine. No need to get testy.”
He’s not satisfied until I finally settle back, and I’m surprised by how soft and warm his hands are when his fingers curl around my ankle.
“Ah,” I hiss through my teeth when he pries the back of the first shoe from my aching heel.
Sharp eyes flick to mine in the waning daylight. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I swallow hard at the delicacy of his touch, watching him pay extra care to where he presses his fingertips.
He removes the shoe entirely, dropping it to the ground and then slowly bringing my foot to rest on his knee before working the sore muscles in my calf.
“Can I ask you something?” he says while gradually massaging down my leg to the top of my foot.
My mouth waters at the pressure he places along the arch, and I have to grip the table to stop from toppling over. “You keep doin’ that, and you can ask me anything you want.”
One damn foot rub and my voice has gone pathetically gluttonous.
His low hum does nothing to extinguish the heat licking up the inside of my leg, all the way to the tops of my thighs. I close my eyes, mouth going slack on a groan when he rubs the hollowed dips of my ankle.
“Why didn’t you give George your true name?”
I wait a heartbeat or two, considering my answer the same way Dad does when he’s not sure how much to reveal. “Because I didn’t want him to connect the dots like most of the other islanders do.”
He switches to the other side, genuinely perplexed. “And that would be a bad thing?”
“My father’s name has a lot of influence, but it’s his name, not mine. It feels hokey using that as an advantage when I can live a happy, quiet life without it.”
“There’s nothing quiet about you, sunshine,” he says solemnly.
He frowns when I gingerly pull my foot from his grasp. “I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t want to conform to other people’s expectations of me, but it’s the one and only thing I do best.”
“If you don’t want to, then why do you?”
It’s an honest question, but I feel my guard rising defensively. We’re not supposed to go here, falling back into our old roles, trading smiles and touches that mend our hurts.
But we just can’t help ourselves, can we?
“The same reason I suspect you’re following in Silas’s footsteps—suited up and working your life away.” I deflect, shutting him out before he gets too close. Denying him access to my vulnerability. “Keeping him happy.”
A muscle feathers up his neck, twitching along his jaw. “This job provides an income that gives me security and stability.”
“Ah, so you’re breaking your promise for the money. How noble.”
Anger makes me petty, but I don’t care. Logan said he’d go his own way—make his own name—and I’ve never liked Silas.
“At least I’m taken care of, not living out of a rundown van, begging for scraps on the side of the highway.” His eyes are sharp as arrows. “I’ve been there, done that, and I’m never going back.”
A chill skates down my spine at the icy conviction in his tone.
“Wealth isn’t always the answer,” I fire back.
“Tell that to my father,” he mumbles, looking away from me.
“I don’t need to tell him. I’m telling you.”
Logan scoffs, lacing his fingers and bracing his elbows on the table, while I stare at him in disbelief.
“I guess he got his perfect little soldier, after all,” I say.
“Don’t.” His smooth warning has the hair on the back of my neck bristling when he stands abruptly. “You don’t know what he’s sacrificed to get us to where we are now.”
Sacrifices like me?
“Believe me, I have an idea.”
I swipe my heels off the ground before standing and meeting him chest to chest, both of us so angry, our fists clench tight.
“He was there when I needed him the most. Picked me up, dusted me off, and taught me what it means to be a man. To have pride in everything I’ve worked for, and I almost gave up on him for a dream I wished could have come true. More than anything, Pen, I wish it could have.” My heart splinters as his sad eyes bore a hole through me. “But it didn’t, and he helped me realize that sometimes dreams don’t become reality, no matter how badly we wish for them to.”
There it is, out in the open for both of us to see that I would never mean more to Logan than what Silas had planned for him. If I needed to know why he never contacted me after we left Topica Bay that summer, then it’s right here, staring me in the face.
The words I fling at him are the kind that cut deep enough to scar. “The Logan I knew stood for what he believed in, and if he were here right now, he’d take me far, far away from you.”
That haunted gaze darts over every inch of my face. His nostrils flare like he’s trying his damndest to keep his composure.
“What happened to him?” I ask, hating the desperation in my voice. “Where did he go?”
He pauses at my side long enough to say, “He’s gone.”