Lies I Told(20)

Now I just needed Logan.

I stuck my nearly full beer in the sand and stood. Leaving my sweatshirt on the beach chair, I moved into Logan’s line of sight, avoiding his eyes. When I stepped into the shadows, I wasn’t at all surprised to feel someone fall into step behind me.

“Grace!”

I turned around. “Hey, Logan.”

“It’s getting a little rowdy back there. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” We started walking, the waves rushing up to meet our bare feet. “I’ve never been down here before.”

“It’s kind of our spot,” he said. “Although I prefer coming here alone.”

I inhaled deeply, relishing the cold, salty air. “I can see that. It’s probably therapeutic. When there’s not a bunch of people getting drunk and stoned, I mean.”

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“They seem nice, though,” I said. “Your friends.”

He thought about it. “Well, they’re not all my friends, but . . . yeah. They’re mostly cool.”

I pulled a strand of windblown hair away from my face. “Mostly?”

He shrugged. “You know how it is. There are a few difficult people in every group.”

I thought of Parker. Of his mercurial moods, his resentment of our parents, the self-destructive streak that made it hard for me to sleep when he stayed out too late. That made me think about the scars on his arm and what would happen if he felt too desperate, too alone.

“And every family,” I sighed.

He looked down at me. “You don’t seem difficult to get along with, so I can only assume you mean your brother. Or is there another . . . challenging Fontaine I haven’t met yet?”

I don’t know why, but I was happy that he’d remembered my last name. Or the one we were using right now, anyway. “No, Parker pretty much takes that title in our family.”

Logan laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing. Just . . . Rachel should keep even Parker on his toes.”

I smiled up at him. “I kind of got that impression.”

“Want to sit?” he said, gesturing to the sand.

“Sure.”

I dropped to the sand, and he sat next to me.

I turned to look at him. “Truth?”

“Truth.”

“I just about died playing volleyball with the girls. I thought they’d never stop.”

He grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We sat there for a minute, watching the waves roll in and out. I’d been near the ocean in New York and Seattle, but never like this. Manhattan was too loud, too polluted by humanity to be peaceful, even down by the water. Seattle had been beautiful and serene, but the beaches were mostly rocky, the ocean so cold you had to brace yourself to go for a swim even in the summer.

This was different. The sand was soft, the air clean and fresh. The waves hurried up the sand toward us before withdrawing gently back into the sea.

I should have asked questions. Should have tried to get information to move the job forward. But the sound of the tide was rhythmic, Logan’s presence next to me soothing. It all lulled me into a kind of peaceful complacency.

“So what do you think of Playa Hermosa?” Logan finally asked.

I liked the way he looked at me, like there was nothing on his mind but me, no thoughts crowding out our moment together. Like it was just the two of us, stranded on a lonely beach in the middle of space.

“I like it. I mean, we haven’t been here long, but so far, everyone seems really nice.” Other than Rachel, it was true.

He turned his head to look at me. “Like who?”

“Well . . . you seem pretty nice.” I didn’t think about the smile I gave him. Didn’t try to make it shy or hesitant, to make it fit into the con. It just rose to my lips like a piece of driftwood rising to the surface of the sea.

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile teasing his lips. “I do?”

“Yeah.” I spoke softly, not wanting to break the spell of the moment we’d somehow fallen into.

An ear-splitting crack echoed across the beach, and I jumped, looking back toward the light of the bonfire.

“What was that?”

Logan got up, brushing off his jeans. “Firecrackers. Those dumb-asses are going to get beach patrol down here.” He reached out a hand. “Come on, we better go back.”

He pulled me to my feet, holding on to my hand a little longer than necessary.

We headed back down the beach, walking close to the waterline, the waves rushing up and over our feet. We were about halfway back to the bonfire when he stopped to pull off his hoodie.

He reached around me, placing the sweatshirt on my shoulders. His fingers sent a ripple of electricity where they brushed my bare skin.

“What’s this for?” I asked, looking up into his eyes.

“You were shivering,” he said.

“I was?”

“Yeah.” He squeezed my shoulders and hesitated, like he wanted to pull me into his arms. Instead he started walking again.

I matched his stride. “Thank you.”

When we got back to the fire, everyone was packing up, hurriedly folding up beach chairs and stuffing sweatshirts and towels into backpacks. Liam and Raj were carrying two of the coolers toward the path that led to the parking lot.