Page 94 of Wilde Secrets

Harper didn’t get a chance to talk with Logan that night. Exhausted, King insisted on Isla getting to bed and Harper, barely able to keep her eyes open, was relieved. All four had poured into Logan’s truck and headed back to the house Harper had fallen in love with.

She hadn’t just fallen in love with the house, but that was a thought she wouldn’t dwell on right now. As tired as she was, if she started thinking about tomorrow and leaving Cape Wilde, she’d start bawling.

She’d rested her head against the glass and closed her eyes, only to wake up in Logan’s bed the next morning.

“Hey sleepy head. Time to get going,” Isla called from the ensuite bathroom. “You were out cold when we got back last night. I can’t believe you didn’t wake up when Logan carried you inside.”

Harper pulled a pillow over her head and groaned, not wanting to face the day.

Especially not this day.

“You know you still steal the covers in your sleep?” Isla laughed.

Oh god. She had to leave here. She’d thought she’d have more time, but weeks had turned into days, and now minutes. Her time in Cape Wilde—her time with Logan West—had run out far too quickly.

Surely that was a sign?

Isla ripped the pillow from her hands, the sunlight making her eyes hurt. She closed them and rolled onto her stomach.

“None of that. Come on, get up.” Isla ripped back the covers.

“Go away.”

“Nope. We have a long drive today and need to get going if we’re going to make our flight.”

Harper’s eyes flew open and she pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Flight?”

Isla was standing beside the bed in jeans and a cropped tee, an expanse of smooth stomach peeking from between the waistband and hem. She propped a hand on her hip. “Did you think we were going to drive back to California?”

Harper hadn’t thought much at all. She’d actively avoided thinking about this day.

Isla left her to shower, and in far too little time she was downstairs with her bags, standing awkwardly in the living room.

King was on the back deck with Isla, both nursing cups of coffee as they looked over the water, backs turned to the house. She appreciated them giving her some privacy to say her goodbyes.

Logan who was in the kitchen, another flannel shirt stretched over his back. He had rolled his sleeves up over his muscular forearms, his hands busy making coffee.

She watched as he moved through the space on bare feet. His sure movements so familiar to her now.

Would she ever see him again?

No. She had to stop thinking like that. What they had was short, but that’s what they’d agreed to. It wasn’t to be anything longer than this. They both knew what this was.

It didn’t matter how many times she told herself the same story though, it still hurt.

It would probably always hurt.

Harper slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen bench and watched him with hungry eyes, committing every part to memory. The way the dust motes danced in the morning light. The reflection of the sun on the water. The sound of Logan humming under his breath as he made coffee.

I will always love you.

That’s what he was humming, she realized.

He couldn’t mean…?

No. No way.

“Here you go.” He slid the mug across the counter to her.

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