My mind pivots and whirls, quickly cataloging and assessing alternatives and solutions. “Is there another way out?”
Logan laughs. “You’re wearing heels and a dress, and we don’t have caving gear. Even if we got out through one of the other entrances, we’d have to hike over the mountain in the dark. For miles.”
I flash my light around, checking for any emergency satellite phones, spare keys, tools. Paper bags for panic huffing. Nothing. Oh! The box of candles with lighters. That’s good. I can remove getting lost or falling in the dark from the disaster risk list.
“Surely, Seth will realize something’s wrong when we don’t come back home?” I ask.
“Maybe? He might think we went somewhere afterwards to celebrate. He may not realize until tomorrow morning that we never came back.” Logan snaps his fingers. “Seth has a cavern tour scheduled for ten tomorrow morning. We won’tbe stuck here forever.”
“Okay, that’s something. We’ll only have to survive the night.” My mind continues to churn through my survival checklist. Water and food we can do without—those take days and weeks before they become critical. Shelter on the other hand…
A cool breeze drifts through the opening. I shiver. “We may have to go deeper into the cave,” I tell him. “It’s like, consistently seventy degrees in there, right? What about…creatures? Bats?”
“Bats are migratory. It’s too cold now for most of the bat species, and the year-round ones like to hang out at the west entrance.”
“Okay, we can check rabies off the disaster list.” I sigh. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“Come on,” Logan says. “I know a place.”
Fourteen
Sierra
Logan carries the box of candles as he leads me back to the Cathedral. He points to a shadowy corner as we head down the stairs. “That’s where Billy Blackstone hid all the loot.”
Inside the Blackstone chamber are a few props: some canvas bags filled with fake gold coins, an oak barrel with a glass lantern, and a tiny, rickety cot. Thick horse blankets and a ribbon-bound packet of letters lie on top.
“We recreated this room to look how it did when I discovered it,” he explains, tossing aside the reproduction Lula Maude letters. “At least it’s something.”
Logan gestures for me to sit as he sets up some candles away from anything flammable. I sit on the cot. It’s close to midnight, and I can feel the long day weighing on me.
“You should take the cot,” I say wearily. “I’m the dumbass who got us trapped down here. I’ll sleep on the ground.”
Logan gives me a look that says,You’re being ridiculous.“It’ll be tight, but we can both fit. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
I giggle as we try to situate ourselves. The cot’s small—meant for one scrawny outlaw, not two modern adults.
“I’m going to fall off,” I laugh, twisting onto my side to make more room for him.
The laughter dies when he pulls me flush against him. It feels…too good. My eyes roll back as his warmth, his scent, the solid weight of him envelop me.
I shouldn’t feel good after what I’ve done—getting us stuck here overnight. “We don’t fit. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Shh.”
“Did you just shush me?”
“Yes. Now relax.”
I can’t relax. Every inch of me feels every inch of him. Plus a few more. Okay, way more than just a few. I squirm against him, trying to open up some space between us.
“Sierra,” he says, his voice low and strained, “stop wiggling.”
I can’t help my snicker. At least I’m not the only one enjoying this too much. “It’s okay. I’ll just ignore it again.”
“Sierra.”
“Logan,” I echo, mocking his tone. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been told involuntary erections just happen.”
