Chapter Eight
Her heatedembarrassment turned into icy dread. “What?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” She grabbed her wineglass, then pushed it out of the way. Water. She needed water, and a lot of it. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.
He waited for her to take a desperate swallow of water that did nothing, then he nudged her plate closer to her. “Seriously. Finish eating. Then we can take a walk on the beach.”
“I don’t think I have an appetite anymore.”
“We did a serious amount of hiking today. You need to refuel.”
“Logan!” She darted out her hand and grabbed his fingers. “That doesn’t matter right now.”
“It always matters.” He twisted his wrist around so he was holding her hand. Always had to be in charge. Always had to take care of her.
Damn him. Tears pricked behind her eyelashes and she closed her eyes.
The gentle rub of his thumb against the inside of her wrist had her slowly blinking them open again. He gave her a rueful smile. “Please eat.”
How could she? But he wanted them to be okay. And if they were okay, they wouldn’t let a fancy meal go to waste. Her smile in return was more watery, but she pasted it on. “You too.”
“Yeah.”
They finished a bit more of their meal in silence. Neither cleared their plate, but they both stopped eating at the same time, and Logan gestured for the waiter, who brought a slip for him to sign the meal back to their room.
When she pushed her chair back, he was out of his and around to pull out her chair before she could stand up.
She murmured her thanks as he pressed his palm into the small of her back, guiding her out of the restaurant. Questions and nerves jockeyed for top position as he steered her directly onto the small path heading down to the beach.
His hand didn’t leave her body, not even when she paused to kick off her heels. He toed out of his dress shoes and flicked off his socks with one hand.
A breeze picked up as they crested the dunes, making her shiver. Logan was behind her in a flash, his arms wrapping around her as their shoes clattered to the sand.
“This okay?”
That he had to keep asking meant that it almost certainly wasn’t. But it felt more than okay. It felt right. She nodded and leaned back against him, hoping the warmth of his body would transfer to her, and melt the fear frozen around her heart. “What are we doing?”
“Watching the ocean.”
She stared at the inky blackness in front of them. Listened to the churning, crashing waves. Imagined the man behind her silently wading out off that in his scuba gear and disappearing into the scruffy brush, off to save the world on behalf of their country. “I’m proud of you,” she said abruptly. “You’re the bravest, smartest man I’ve ever known. If I ever gave you the impression otherwise, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t.” He rubbed his face against her hair.
“Then what did I say to you?” She couldn’t remember ever telling him he wasn’t good enough. He’d always been her selfless hero. Always would be.
“Ahh, Tor.” He groaned and his hands slid lower around her waist, his arms circling her hips now.
The urge to rock back against him was overwhelming.
There was something effed up about this island, clearly. It had messed with their pheromones.
“It wasn’t one thing,” he finally said, his voice cracking. “But everything, really. When your parents split and your mom took off for New Mexico, and you told me—”
She groaned. Yep, she remembered the conversation. “I’d never leave my dad. I’d never be so selfish to run away from Atlanta like that.” They’d been lying under the magnolia tree in the park. He’d blocked them off from the world with their bikes set up as a barrier around them, and given her all the tissues he could stuff in his pockets. She still got snot on his shirt. “But I was twelve! And I don’t even like my dad anymore. Most of the time.”
“Yeah, but you still won’t leave him.”
