Chapter 5 #2
Logan and Seth launch into an enthusiastic explanation of their tour guide business.
I knew their family owned the mine and most of Compass Mountain, but I’m surprised they’ve managed to turn it into a full-fledged operation.
It was my understanding that the copper mine had been a bad investment for Logan’s great-something grandfather.
By the time Logan’s grandfather inherited it, the mine was completely defunct, and he’d converted it into a small mining tour company.
When we were growing up, Logan’s dad would open the mine on weekends, making just enough from ticket sales to cover property and land taxes, while still working his full-time job at the postal service to provide for his family.
Now they tell me proudly that they have five full-time employees—their brothers and sister, as well as both of them—and that they give tours of the mine and a nearby cave almost every day.
As we talk, I get the impression of being watched.
The floor-to-ceiling windows highlight the inside of the restaurant.
A dozen eyes flit away when I look through them.
Are they staring at me? Do these tourists somehow know what I’ve done?
Maybe it’s on an insert for a “Welcome to Sagebrush” pamphlet covering recent history and infamous residents.
“Here they are!” A beautiful woman in a red, tight-fitted dress and killer heels comes out to us.
“Teresa.” Logan stands to hug her, and I stiffen. Who is this woman to him?
“What are you gentlemen doing out here? I had my hostess clear our best table just for you.”
I glance over at the restaurant again, once again finding a dozen pairs of eyes watching me. Or are they watching Teresa, wondering if some drama is happening out here? I have no idea what’s going on.
“You know we love the ambiance,” Logan says, “but it’s a little loud.”
“Why”—she slaps his arm playfully—“you could have said! I’ll turn down the music.
That’s an easy fix, and you know I’d do anything for our most beloved Sagebrush citizen.
” When Logan hesitates, she adds, “I know my customers would love it if you would join us. I’ve already had several of them ask about you. Dinner would be on me, of course.”
“Ah,” Logan says. “That’s so tempting, Teresa. But we’re catching up with an old friend. I’d love to come back another night, if it’ll help business.”
Teresa smiles. “Don’t be a stranger, Logan.”
“Whew, that was close,” Logan says once she’s gone.
I don’t understand. “Don’t change where you want to sit on my account,” I say. “If you want to sit inside—”
“God, no. She’d lead me around on a leash to each table like a pet tiger if it produced more five-star reviews.”
“She’s the owner,” Seth explains. “Teresa loves it when we come here, especially Logan. She thinks customers submit more reviews on the nights we’re here. She’s ruthless. We may have to go incognito next time, Logan.”
“We’ll wear masks.”
“Like we have COVID?” says Seth. “It needs to be more than that. She’ll recognize us.”
“No, I’m thinking Halloween masks, like Scream?”
“I like it,” Seth says. “Or maybe full-body disguises, like the Ringwraiths from Lord of the Rings.”
“You’ll need to work on your high-pitched screams; otherwise, how would we order?”
“Hold up, nerds,” I interrupt. “Why would you being here make customers happy? Like, I get you’re hot, but—”
Logan and Seth both bark with laughter at that.
Logan props his chin on his hand and leans toward me on the table. “You still think I’m hot, hmm?” he teases.
I feel myself blush. “But, seriously, why does she care if you’re here?”
“I was on the news a few years ago,” Logan says vaguely. “Some of the business owners think I’m Sagebrush royalty now. It was so long ago, I don’t think anyone else really cares anymore.”
I glance over at the restaurant, where, once again, people’s gazes dart away as if they’ve been watching us. It suddenly clicks that they’re not looking at me, or even us. They’re looking at him.
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say slowly. “What did you do?”
“Really?” Seth looks flabbergasted. “How do you not know? Were you in exile on Ahch-To or something?”
“Obscure fantasy references may not have the impact you’re hoping for,” Logan says with a smile.
“It’s Star Wars. That’s hardly obscure,” Seth protests. “Fine, how about a history reference. Exiled to the island of Elba?”
Logan just laughs.
I push my plate away, my appetite now completely gone.
When we were teenagers, Logan was blunt, often taking pride in how direct—to the point of hurtful—he could be.
“I’m just being honest,” he always said whenever I told him he was rude or that he hurt my feelings.
While his sarcasm was often funny, sometimes his humor crossed into cruelty, especially toward his twin.
It was weird seeing him smoothly turn that woman down with subtlety, and to be kind in the face of Seth’s nerdy goofiness.
It occurs to me that maybe I don’t know this twenty-five-year-old Logan at all. He’s a stranger. I’ve changed so much in seven years—why would I expect him to be the same?
“Logan was all over the news a few years ago. International even,” Seth says, pride for his brother shining through. “He’s the one who found the Blackstone Cave.”
“The Blackstone Cave,” I repeat. “Oh, that’s the cave you do tours in now, right?” Seth looks so appalled that I giggle. “Okay, okay, I’m clearly a Neanderthal. Just tell me—what’s so great about this cave?”
“The cave is a huge historical find,” explains Logan. “For years, no one knew where Billy Blackstone and his outlaw posse hid out after robbing the trains and stagecoaches around here. It was like they disappeared like a mirage in the desert.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember that story.” Vaguely. “Well, that’s cool.”
Seth shakes his head. “Bro,” he says. “Come on.”
Logan sighs. “Yeah, it got more attention because it had a hidden treasure. I found a cache of gold coins.”
“Millions of dollars’ worth of gold,” Seth corrects.
“What?!”
Logan winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he says.
“No way!” I process that for a moment. Millions of dollars? “Did you bathe in it like Scrooge McDuck?” I say finally.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan says. “Of course I did. What else would I do with a bathtub’s amount of gold?”
I laugh. “How was it?”
“Wouldn’t recommend it. Colder than ice plunging, and I didn’t even get clean.”
We smile at each other. His eyes are so pretty, a dark, almost cobalt blue, framed by light-brown lashes. I used to tell him how jealous I was of them, how it seemed a waste for a guy to have such thick, long lashes. But now I think maybe it’s not such a waste. He wears them so well.
Seth lifts his beer and takes a drink, and I startle. Oh, god, how long was I staring at Logan like a lunatic?
There is a little more color in Logan’s cheeks than before, and he ducks his head and takes a sip of his beer. “Anyway, more importantly, it put Sagebrush on the map.”
“What do you mean?”
“The tourism map.” Logan rubs his hands together excitedly.
“At first, only western-obsessed fans came here to walk the same trails Billy Blackstone and his band of gunslinging outlaws did.
Then we figured out that treasure hunters are willing to purchase single-day passes from us to hike around Compass Mountain in search of other caves.
Some big-shot historian we worked with estimates that we only found about half of the gold that Blackstone purportedly stole during his lifetime, so who knows?
“Soon after, the University of Arizona offered to invest in some of the infrastructure so they could do digs here. It snowballed from there—art galleries and artists flocked here from all over, followed by boutiques and gastropubs. Sagebrush has turned into a popular destination for Phoenix suburbanites and influencers.”
Seth sniggers to himself.
“What?” Logan asks huffily.
“You sound like you’re reciting messaging for one of your interviews for ABC.”
Logan laughs. “Hey, I still got it.” Again, he doesn’t deliver a cutting remark back to his twin, but a self-deprecating answer. It’s…nice.
He turns his intensity back to me. It’s a strangely heady thing. “To summarize, Sagebrush has become a tourist destination. Voilà.” He gestures at the deck and the tourists inside the restaurant.
“That’s insane! So how did you find it? You wake up one day and decide to become an intrepid treasure hunter?”
Logan and Seth exchange looks. “It isn’t intentional,” Logan says finally. “I stumbled across it by…accident. Hiking.”
They both seem very reticent to talk about it. One thing I’ve learned over the past few years is how to read the room and not badger people with questions. “I’m getting quite tired. It’s been a long day for me. Do you mind if we head back?”
“Let me go say goodbye to Teresa,” says Logan.
“He’s being modest, you know,” Seth says once Logan is gone. “His discovery and what he did with it changes everything. People around here call him the Golden Boy of Sagebrush.”
My heart melts a little at that. “He deserves it. He seems like he’s really come into himself.”
I’m so proud of him and what he’s accomplished.
I loved him in high school—his love for his family, his intelligence, how he seemed to enjoy my playfulness—but he seems to have flourished since I left, developing drive, passion, and generosity.
Our story of young, tempestuous love is over, but a happy ending resulted nonetheless.
“Not interested in moving back, are you?”
“Naw,” I say. “It seems everything worked out for the best while I was gone.” If Logan is the golden boy around Sagebrush, he doesn’t need me to taint his image by association.
We head home. I stand by awkwardly as Logan puts fresh sheets on the bed, his long, fit body stretching over the mattress.
When he finishes, he leans against the doorframe, half-in, half-out. “Anything else you need?”
I look around the room, but his eyes never leave my face. That’s right; Logan used to be so intense with eye contact. When we were younger, I loved the concentrated focus on me, but now it feels like he is looking into my soul, and I have no idea how I feel about what he sees. “I’m good,” I say.
He shifts forward, and for one second, I think he’s leaning in for a kiss. Muscle memory takes over—I’m a Pavlovian dog, trained for that trigger of his slouchy stance and lean. I step forward and tilt my face up toward his.
His eyes widen in surprise. God, how embarrassing.
I quickly shift my stance and peck a soft, quick, ex-girlfriend-appropriate kiss on the cheek. His cheek is smooth where I kiss it. He’s so beautiful up close, with blue eyes, a close-shaved jaw, and healthy, tanned skin. He takes my breath away. His clean, sea-salt-based fragrance is intoxicating.
But then the underlying scent of beer reminds me we’ve been drinking. Clearly, I’m off because of that. Memories and alcohol together are a powerful aphrodisiac.
“Good night,” I murmur and step back. He pauses for a moment, and I’m terrified he’s going to mention my faux pas in kissing him—and the horror of hearing him say, Listen, Sierra, I’m not into you like that anymore—or worse, assume that my actions are an offer to pay back his kindness with sex.
I grab desperately for the door. Thankfully, he steps back then, and I’m finally able to get some sleep and let this strange day end.