Lies I Told(12)

I decided to move on. Having Rachel on my side might make things easier, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary. I would switch gears, focus on the girls Rachel hung out with—Harper and Olivia—and most importantly on Logan Fairchild.

I sat with Selena, Ashley, and Nina at lunch. Ashley and Nina shared a pair of headphones, talking nonstop about a concert they’d attended the week before (Selena’s dad wouldn’t let her go), while Selena and I planned a Saturday shopping trip. Rachel and her friends still occupied the table near the window, clearly “their” spot. Logan was there, too, throwing a foam football with a couple of guys when the lunch monitors weren’t looking.

This time when Logan looked over, I smiled, making a point to meet his gaze across the cafeteria.

Screw Rachel Mercer.

I stayed after school to talk to my English teacher about the upcoming midterm. By the time I headed outside, there were only a handful of cars left in the parking lot. The Saab wasn’t one of them.

My cell phone had buzzed while I’d been talking to Mrs. Kryzek, but I’d forgotten to check it when I left the classroom. I pulled it out now and discovered three texts from Parker.

In the parking lot.

Where are you?

Assume you have a ride? Text if you need me to come back.

Sighing, I sat down on the curb. I was texting Parker when a car approached from the left. It was almost in front of me when I recognized the black BMW.

The car stopped, the passenger side window retracting with an electronic hum.

“Hey!” Logan smiled through the open window. “Grace, right?”

I nodded. “Right.”

“Need a ride?”

“My brother ditched me, but I can text him to come back.”

“Don’t bother,” Logan said. “I can give you a lift.”

I bit my lip, wondering if my heart was beating faster because of the unexpected opportunity to work Logan or because he had such a nice smile.

“I live at the top of Camino Jardin,” I finally said. “Is that too far?”

He laughed. “Nothing’s too far on the peninsula. Get in.”

“Thanks.” I slid into the front seat and fastened my seat belt.

Logan maneuvered through the parking lot and pulled onto the main road. Then we were winding our way up the peninsula, the wind blowing my hair around, the late afternoon sun warm on my shoulders as the ocean shimmered on our right.

“Did you move here for your parents’ work?” Logan asked over the wind.

I nodded. “My dad was part of a big IPO. Now he owns a venture capital firm. There are some start-ups down here he wants to invest in or something.”

It was vague, but I wasn’t worried. Nobody my age was interested in what their parents did for a living. It was probably even more true in Playa Hermosa, where, as long as the new cars, trips to Europe, and credit cards kept coming, no one seemed to care where they came from.

“Sounds interesting,” he said.

“I don’t really know that much about it,” I laughed. “What about you? Have you lived here long?”

He made a tight turn around one of the road’s switchbacks. “Born and raised.”

Was I imagining the note of regret in his voice? I filed the observation away for later.

“It seems like a nice place to be born and raised.”

He glanced over, nodding. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Yeah?”

His smile was slow, even a little sexy, in a totally-unaware-of-how-cute-I-am way. “Yeah.”

We turned onto Camino Jardin, the air suddenly cooler as we entered the shade of the thick foliage overhead. We were almost to the corner when I spotted something in the middle of the street.

Logan slammed on the brakes, and I flew forward, stopped only by my seat belt. I braced myself against the dash as I tried to steady my racing heart.

Logan looked over at me. “You okay?”

“Fine.” I trained my eyes on the animal in the road. “Is that . . . ?”

“A peacock,” he confirmed.

“What’s it doing here?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t seen them yet?”

I shook my head, and the bird suddenly fanned its tail feathers in an iridescent display of blue and green. It stood straighter, elongating its neck as if on alert.

“Apparently, some explorer brought them here in the 1920s,” Logan explained.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“It is,” Logan said thoughtfully. “Although there are people in Playa Hermosa who would disagree with you.”

I looked over at him. “Why?”

“Well, they block traffic for one thing, and squawk like you wouldn’t believe. There’s a big fight about it.”

“What kind of fight?”


Logan inched forward, edging around the animal. “There’s an ordinance that says you can’t hurt them, but some of the neighborhoods want to opt out of it because the peacocks are so out of control.”

“It’s that one, with the Saab out front.” I pointed out my house at the end of the street before turning back to him. “So . . . what? People would kill them?”

Logan pulled to a stop in front of the house. “Or trap them and send them away.”