Chapter Nine
There wasn’ta chance in hell he was letting her run into the night without giving chase. Swearing under his breath, Logan grabbed his shoes and took off after her. The sand gave way to a wooden boardwalk, then a smooth cement path. He didn’t run on concrete in his bare feet that often—he wasn’t an idiot—but his dress shoes weren’t meant for running in either, and he wasn’t slowing down to put them on.
He caught up to her as they passed the first resort building, but he didn’t close the gap.
Sometimes a hard run was just the cathartic release someone needed.
She was pumping her arms, her heels dangling from one hand, as she rounded the corner toward their villa, and then the hypnotic pattern was broken as she lifted her other hand and swiped at her face.
He slowed down.
Shit. She was crying.
He’d made Tori cry.
That realization tore his chest open more efficiently than any military-grade weaponry ever could. His steps faltered further, and he stopped twenty feet short of the villa.
But he had the key.
So when she sagged against the door to their private, shared vacation space, he had to go to her, even though he was a total shit.
“Maybe it was a mistake, me coming along this week,” he said roughly as he stopped again behind her.
She lifted her head and squared her body with a rough inhale. She didn’t look back over her shoulder. “Just let me in.”
He reached past her, unable to stop himself from breathing in the sweet scent of her skin as he used his keycard to open the door. “I’ll go find another room for myself.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You have another room in here.”
“But—”
“I may not want to talk to you right now, but you’re still my Logan and I’m going to want to have breakfast with you in the morning. So shut up with that bullshit.”
He shut up.
She headed straight to her room and closed the door. He went to the fridge and found a six-pack of premium beer.
Those would get him buzzed as good as anything else.
He grabbed them, and what remained of the fruit tray, and threw himself onto the sofa. So much for fine. So much for keeping shit to himself.
So much for being her best friend.
He needed a new plan. One that would get them through the week without breaking her heart.
His?
That was a different story.
You’re still my Logan.
She had no idea how much he wanted those words to mean something different. He groaned and downed the rest of his first bottle of beer as he re-hashed the conversation on the beach.
Why did you kiss me?
Because I was weak.
And she wasn’t interested in that. Feelings had no place in this week. Experience. Exhilaration. Ecstasy. That was all Tori wanted, and he’d ruined it with the truth. She didn’t need him to interject his emo-longing for her into this week of escape.
