Lies I Told(55)

I shook my head, laughing even as my cheeks got warm. “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“It’s not sweet-talking if it’s true,” he laughed.

“Okay, you two,” Raj said. “Break it up.”

We all laughed and went our separate ways. David took Selena to meet his parents, while Raj and Olivia headed across the lawn to join Rachel. I looked around, wondering what had become of Parker. I didn’t see him, and I had to force the knot of concern out of my stomach. Parker had been okay since our conversation that foggy morning after he’d vandalized Logan’s car. Besides, he’d promised to keep his cool through the rest of the Fairchild con.

Logan slid an arm around my waist, pulling me a little bit closer. He leaned down, whispering in my ear. “You up for an escape?”





Forty-One


We stuck to the tree line as we followed the gravel pathway leading to the back of the property. We didn’t want any of the others to see us and mistake our getaway for a chance to ditch the adults en masse.

The sun was setting over the ocean, and the wind that blew in off the water wasn’t balmy anymore. The temperature had plummeted at least five degrees since we left the lawn. The hired party help had been turning on lights and patio heaters when we left. Looking around the path, everything rendered in shades of twilight gray, I suddenly wished for light and warmth.

“You cold?” Logan asked, his hand over mine. He pulled off his jacket without waiting for an answer and draped it over my shoulders.

“Thanks.”

The carriage house came into view in the distance, a throwback to another time. Unlike the rest of the Fairchild house, the outbuilding wasn’t well maintained. The white paint was peeling, the old wood siding splintering from years of damp, cold, and heat. Still, it was beautiful, and I took a second to admire it as Logan pulled me into its shadowy interior. Knowing we’d already ruled it out as a possible hiding place for the gold, and without Rachel breathing down my neck, I could truly appreciate its abandoned desolation.

“Did they really used to keep carriages in here?” I asked, turning in a circle, watching the play of shadow on what little light remained.

He nodded. “You can tell from the way the doors slide back and forth, like barn doors.”

“It’s amazing.” I looked at him and smiled. “Really beautiful.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

He shook his head with a smile. “I don’t know any other girl on the peninsula who would think so. It’s all custom tile and skylights.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I love a lot of the houses up here. But the newer ones can be a little . . . sterile.”

He walked slowly toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. Taking my hand, he led me across the room to an old workbench against one of the walls. He leaned on it, pulling me gently against him. I laid my head on his chest, listening to the gentle beat of his heart.

He stroked my hair, leaning in to kiss the top of my head. My breath caught in my throat, and a rush of hot wind sped through my body as his hands traveled to my neck, down to my collarbone, spreading to my shoulders, bare under the slender straps of my dress. My head fell back as his lips touched the sensitive skin near my ear.

“Grace . . . ,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.

My breath caught in my throat as his lips moved down my neck. He tenderly kissed the corners of my mouth before touching his lips to mine. Then there was no room for gentleness, no room for anything but the passion building between us, as undeniable as the waves crashing on the beach in the distance.

His lips plundered mine, his fingers sliding into the hair at the back of my head, his free hand moving over my body as he explored my mouth with his tongue. He was consuming me, and I offered myself up to him without hesitation. Without reservation.

We were back on our beach. Back in space.

When we finally pulled away, we were both short of breath. His eyes were glassy, dark with desire, and he pulled me close in a ferocious embrace, burying his face in my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Grace.”

I put my hands on either side of his head, forcing him to look at me. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m moving too fast. I don’t want you to think I’m playing you. I just . . . I’ve never felt like this about anybody.”

“Hey,” I said, touching my lips softly to his. “You’re not the only one.”

“I’m not?”

I shook my head, warning bells clanging in my head. Not because of what I was about to say. Because I meant it.

“I feel it, too. I just don’t know what to do about it.” My voice broke, and I realized with horror that tears were stinging my eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey . . . ,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything about it. We’ll just take it slow. We have all the time in the world.”


I wrapped my arms around his torso, holding him close, trying to memorize the feel of his body against mine, the smell of his cologne, the hard plane of his chest under my cheek. Resisting the urge to tell him he was wrong. We didn’t have even close to all the time in the world.

And that’s when I noticed it. The windows behind Logan were new. Unlike the splintered siding with its chipped paint, the window frames looked freshly coated with polyurethane, the glass clean and clear.