I eyed him. Or maybe he was here because of his humongous sweet tooth. “Slices of my chocolate cake.”
Jake made a sound that seemed almost pained. “Have I ever told you that, out of all the chocolate cakes in the world, yours is my very favorite? It’s better than my mom’s.”
“Really? Do you tell your mom that?”
He scoffed. “Of course.”
“Liar.”
Big, puppy-dog eyes pleaded into mine.
“Alright, you big baby. I’ll go grab you one. I need to get my hat anyway.”
Logan was outside talking to Jake in my driveway when I stepped back onto the porch, the screen door slamming shut behind me. Both men turned and took me in as I made my way over to them. Logan was dressed in gray joggers and a light-green hoodie. His hair was stuffed beneath a baseball hat, and his eyes were on me. Long lashes hid eyes that were dark and mysterious, but they did nothing to quell the zing of nerves shooting straight down my body when I met his gaze.
“Hey, Jailbait.”
“Hey.” I meant to say something more teasing, to make fun of him for being late or at least be a little flirty, but my soft, breathless answer matched his, and words became nonexistent. For a moment, we just stood there, smiling.
“I’ll just take this cake and get out of your hair.” Jake had a wide grin on his face and motioned toward the two slices of cake I had in my hands. “Are both of those for me?”
I glanced down and opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, something funny to camouflage my heart and the fact that I definitely brought a slice for Logan, but all words failed me once again. My hands holding the cake slices automatically extended toward them both. Jake grabbed his and had already begun unwrapping it by the time Logan took his slice, his fingers brushing against my palm. I risked a glance up at him.
He was smiling, his eyes crinkly and warm. “I thought I had to work on the porch for a slice of cake. I didn’t know you’d give me one for just showing up.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I said.
“Too late.”
A loud and obnoxious throat clearing broke into the mood. “I’ll just be on my way...” Jake began backing away from us, looking extremely satisfied with the fruits of his labor.
“Bye, Jake,” I called, finally finding my voice as he stepped into his truck—the old, beat-up, tin-can truck, mind you. Not the fancy one he had no desire to drive around under our noses.
Well played, Jake.
* * *
Silver Moon Hot Springshad three levels of hot pools, each located at varying miles up the mountain trail. We passed by the first two, which were separated by half a mile and each packed with people. Logan’s eyes and sweat-drenched forehead begged me to let us stop, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to camp with so many people around. The campsites surrounding the hot pools were littered with tents, and children, and loud teenagers. The hike to the third—much more remote—lake was another mile and a half, almost straight up the mountain. As much as I loved children, there would be none up there, and it was a more secluded mountain setting I was craving.
“Look at how beautiful that lake is, Jailbait. I think it's our duty to stop and appreciate it.”
“Where? There is no room for us in this inn, Marten.”
“You are a cruel woman.”
“To the top.”
I started to lead us up the mountain but before I could make it one step, he fell in beside me and grabbed my hand. The move was so casual and smooth, it threw me off guard.
I eyed our hands, keeping careful feelings of elation far away from my face. “You expecting me to pull you up this mountain, Marten?”
He motioned to the trail in front of us. “Look at all those rocks, Jailbait. This is for our safety.”
Looking ahead to the steep terrain, I took note of how completely un-rocky the path was. Dirt crusted, sure, but very few rocks. “You are so right. Should we find a walking stick instead?”
He scoffed. “Walking stick? You can’t trust a walking stick to protect you. You need somebody with muscles.”
“Shoot. I should have asked Jake to come along, then.”
