Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
LOGAN
We leave the quaint little ice cream stand and get back on our bikes, cones in hand.
The paved loop around the island stretches eight miles, most of it lined with stone-covered beaches overlooking Lake Huron, with the Mackinac Bridge rising in the distance.
We ride for a while, finishing our ice cream before pulling off to the side of the trail where a stretch of beach looks particularly inviting.
“Wanna hang out here for a bit?” I ask.
“Yeah, definitely.”
I grab our bag from the bike basket and glance at the fudge we bought earlier. “You want some fudge?”
Tessa presses a hand to her stomach and groans. “God, no. I’m already in a sugar coma.”
She’s not wrong. We spent the morning going from shop to shop sampling every kind of fudge they had—chocolate peanut butter, maple walnut, turtle, sea salt caramel—and topped it all off with ice cream.
I spread the blanket out over the pebbled beach. Tessa sits down, leans back on her hands, and lifts her face toward the sun.
“What a beautiful day,” she says, eyes closed. “I love it here.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty perfect.” I stretch out on the blanket and tip my ball cap down to shade my eyes. The warm breeze and the sound of water lapping against the shore make me want to drift off.
Tessa pulls a book from her bag—one she borrowed from Ari—and cracks it open.
“Must be good,” I say.
“Oh, it’s so good.” She settles in, already absorbed. “And this is the perfect place to read. You know, I never understood the point of romance novels before now.”
I tilt my hat up and look over at her. “No?”
She shakes her head. “I never read them before Ari started lending them to me. I think I always resented the idea of perfect, happy couples in romance novels. It felt… unrealistic. But now that I have you—” She glances at me with a soft smile. “I get it.”
“Yeah?” I grin.
“Oh, definitely.”
“What’s that one about?” I nod toward the book.
“It could be about us,” she says.
“How so?”
“Well, the tropes are insta-love, which I think we fall under.”
“What’s an insta-love trope?”
“You know, love at first sight. I always thought it was so cheesy because who falls in love instantly? But I think we could qualify.”
I raise a brow. “You think we fell in love instantly?”
“Maybe not instantly, but pretty fast. We’ve known each other for less than three months, and we’re living together, vacationing together, and madly in love. That counts as insta-love in my book.”
I laugh. “All right, fair point. So we’re an insta-love couple. What else?”
“The characters in this book are opposites attract. I think that’s us too.”
“You think we’re opposites?”
“In some ways, yeah. You’re rich and had an idyllic childhood. I grew up poor and had a horrible one. In that way, we’re opposites.”
“We’ve got a lot of similarities too, though.”
“Yeah,” she says. “That’s what makes us compatible. Oh, and it’s also a sports romance.”
I laugh. “You’ve barely gotten to experience the sports romance part yet. Just wait. Once our games start back up, you’ll find me even more attractive.” I give her a cocky grin.
She throws her head back laughing. “I don’t know if that’s possible. I already think you’re the hottest person I’ve ever met.”
“Well,” I say, propping myself up on one elbow, “that probably helped the insta-love factor because I think you’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen too.”
Her cheeks flush, and she ducks her head, smiling. “That brings me to my favorite trope. Soulmates.”
“You think we’re soulmates?”
“I definitely think we’re soulmates.” She says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
My chest tightens in the best way. “Yeah, I do too.”
She beams at me, and I can’t help myself. “So, soulmate... want to take a break from your book and make out?”
She giggles, closing the book and setting it aside. “Okay.”
She leans over me, her hair falling around us like a curtain, and captures my mouth with hers. The kiss starts slow and sweet, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. My hand slides into her hair, pulling her closer, and she sighs against my lips.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, she rests her forehead against mine.
“You’d better get back to reading,” I tease. “I’m excited to see some new moves from your book in bed tonight.”
She glances up with a smirk. “Don’t get your hopes up. This book only has a one chili pepper rating.”
I blink. “What do vegetables have to do with sex?”
She bursts out laughing. “It’s the spice level. The hotter the chili pepper rating, the hotter the sex.”
“Okay, so what’s like a hundred chili peppers then? What would that be?”
“It doesn’t go that high. Usually, it caps at five.”
“All right, so tonight we’re doing five-chili-pepper stuff.”
She raises her eyebrows. “That’s quite adventurous.”
“Is it?” I frown. “I think we’re a five-chili-pepper couple.”
“Actually, we’ve been more like a three-chili-pepper couple so far.”
I sit up straight, genuinely offended. “Wait, seriously? We’re not even at the top of the spice scale? You’re telling me the fictional characters in your books are hotter than us?”
“Well, yeah, Logan—but they’re fiction.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Not acceptable. You need to tell me the five-chili-pepper stuff they do right now because we’re doing it tonight.”
She’s laughing now, clearly enjoying my competitive streak. “All right. I think I could be down for that.”
“Good,” I say, still mock offended. “Because there’s no way some words on a page are going to be hotter than us.”
She pats my arm, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re right, babe. We’re definitely the hottest.”
“Damn right we are.”
She picks up her book again, grinning. “I have another spicier book back at the hotel. When I finish this one, I’ll start that one and take notes for you.”
“You do that,” I mutter, lying back down and pulling my hat over my face, smiling.
“Babe?”
“Yeah.”
“Just so you know,” she says. “No words on a page could ever compare to what we have because what we have is real.”
I reach over and squeeze her knee. “I know. But you’ll still research for us?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
After an hour of snoozing by the water while Tessa finished her book, we rode our bikes to Fort Mackinac.
Everything I do with Tessa feels special—not only because I love her but also because I get to see the world through her eyes.
I’ve toured plenty of old forts before. As a kid, I remember walking through the one in St. Augustine with my parents, pretending I understood the cannons and uniforms and battle strategy.
But Tessa didn’t grow up with trips like that.
So even though a historical fort tour wouldn’t normally rank high on my excitement scale, today it mattered.
Because it was with her. Every plaque she read and every question she asked felt like a fun discovery. She makes me feel like a kid again.
She lit up at the cannon demonstration, jumped when they fired it, then immediately wanted to know how often they had to clean the barrel. She was full of questions, asking the tour volunteer one after another. It was amusing and made me see the place differently.
Before heading back to the hotel for dinner, we climb into a horse-drawn carriage for a ride through downtown and the quiet residential streets of the island.
Our driver, Al, is in his sixties with a weathered face and an easy smile.
He’s full of charm and endless trivia about the island and the people who call it home year-round.
“Doesn’t it get incredibly cold during the winter?” Tessa asks, leaning forward, completely invested in his answers.
“Oh yeah,” Al says with a nod. “Lake effect snow, wind coming off the straits. But we’re used to it. You grow up here, you learn to layer.”
“There can’t be many kids who live here year-round,” she says.
“Not a ton,” he replies. “But we’ve got a school. All grades in one building. When I went through, there were only four other kids in my class. Wouldn’t trade it for anything, though.”
Tessa smiles at that. “You surely can’t ride bikes to school through all that snow.”
“That’s the fun part,” Al says, his eyes crinkling. “In the winter, we switch to snowmobiles.”
He says it like it’s the greatest perk in the world, and the delight on Tessa’s face makes me laugh.
“That actually sounds amazing,” she says.
“We keep a few horses on the island through winter,” he continues. “The rest head to the mainland after tourist season and come back in the spring. Winter’s quieter here. Hardly any visitors. Just locals. Whole different feel to the place.”
“But tourists can still come if they want?” Tessa asks.
“Sure can. As long as the lake isn’t frozen over, you can get across on the ferry. Some shops close for the season, so it’s slower. But we’ve got traditions. Tree lighting on the first weekend in December. That’s a big one. The whole island comes out for it.”
Her head turns toward me immediately, eyes bright. “We should come for the Christmas tree lighting.”
“If I can fit it into my hockey schedule,” I tell her, squeezing her hand, “we’re here.”
She grins.
After the carriage ride, we thank Al and tip him generously before stepping down onto the street.
Our fingers find each other again without effort as we walk hand in hand back toward the hotel.
The late afternoon sun stretches long shadows across the sidewalk, and the air is still sweet with fudge and lake breeze.
The whole day settles warm in my chest. Everything about it has been perfect. Then again, every day with Tessa is.
After another incredible dinner at the Grand Hotel and a walk on the porch under the stars, we fall into bed exhausted and happy. Tessa curls into my side, her head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine.
“Thank you,” she murmurs sleepily. “For bringing me here. For all of this.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, running my fingers through her hair. “I love doing life with you.”
“I know. But I want to thank you anyway.” She tilts her head up to look at me. “I never thought I’d have this. Any of this. Someone who loves me. Someone who wants to show me new things and make me happy. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes.”
My chest tightens. “It’s real, baby. I promise you, it’s real.”
She smiles, soft and sleepy. “I know. I’m just... really happy.”
“Me too.”
She presses a kiss to my chest, right over my heart, and settles back down. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and she’s asleep.
I lie there for a while, listening to the sound of the water through the open balcony doors, feeling the weight of her against me, and I think about how much my life has changed in three months.
Three months ago, I played hockey and searched for casual hookups and not much else.
Now I’m on vacation with a woman I’m pretty sure I’ll marry someday, planning Christmas trips and a future I can actually see clearly for the first time in my life.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
The following morning, we have one more lazy breakfast on the porch, one more bike ride around the island, and one more trip to the fudge shops because Tessa insists we need to bring some back for Joyce, Bob, and Layla.
“And the team,” she adds. “We should get some for the guys too.”
“The guys don’t need fancy fudge,” I say.
“Everyone needs fancy fudge,” she counters.
So we end up with about ten pounds of fudge in various flavors, packed carefully into boxes that barely fit in our bike baskets.
On the ferry ride back to the mainland, Tessa leans against the railing one last time, looking back at the island as it grows smaller in the distance.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she says.
“We’ll come back,” I promise. “Christmas tree lighting, remember?”
She smiles and leans into me. “I’m holding you to that.”
As the ferry docks and we load our bags into the SUV for the drive home, I catch her looking at me with this expression I can’t quite read.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just… really glad you stalked me at the coffee shop.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t call it stalking.”
She raises a brow. “Wouldn’t you, though?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“But you’ve been slacking.”
“How is that?”
“On our daily questions.”
I close the back door of the SUV. “How so? I ask you questions every day.”
She shrugs. “I know, but they’re more like conversational questions. At the beginning, you had a dedicated daily question.”
“Alright. Daily question…what was your favorite part of the weekend?”
She smiles. “That’s easy. Being with you.”
“See.” I grab her waist and pull her close, giving her a chaste kiss. “I knew that would be your answer because it’s the same as mine. So the question was irrelevant.”
She circles her arms around my neck, stands on her tiptoes, and trails a line of kisses over my neck. “So just because you know the answer doesn’t mean the question isn’t worth asking.”
“Alright, fine. Prepare to get sick of my daily questions because I’m about to question the fuck out of you.”
She giggles. “I could never get tired of anything you do.”
I scoff. “I highly doubt that.”
My lips find hers, but this time, I take the kiss deeper. When we break apart, she’s smiling that smile—the one that makes everything worth it.
“Let’s go home,” I say.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I miss Beatrice.”
“Oh, she’s fine. The cat sitter sent me a pic of her hiding under the bed. You can just make out an eyeball in the picture.”
“Aw,” Tessa whines. “She’s hiding and lonely. We need to hurry home.”
“She’s fine. I promise. The sitter said she doesn’t see her much but knows she’s coming out because her food disappears.”
“I don’t think Beatrice likes that sitter. We should find another.” Tessa’s voice is protective.
I chuckle. “She likes all of two people in this world, so I’m afraid that task would be impossible.”
As we drive away from the parking lot outside the ferry dock, I’m already thinking about where I can take Tessa next.
Traveling with her is such a high that we’re going to be doing it often.
Even if we have to put Beatrice in a cat backpack and take her with us.
Though I’ll work really hard to make sure that’s not the case because if I’m being honest, I want Tessa all to myself.