Page 38 of The Rookie
More than anything in the world, I desperately want to close the space between us and kiss him again, the way he kissed me last night. Hard and sure and with abandon.
But I know I can’t. And that’s a kind of hurt I don’t know how to deal with.
“How did you know about this place?” I blurt out, looking for any way to change the subject.
Logan seems to understand and follows along without hesitation. “We’ve been coming here since before my dad bought the property. It’s been a few years for me, though. I’ve sort of been avoiding it.”
“Why would you avoid somewhere as beautiful as this?”
The smallest nervous chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You sure you want to know?”
I nod, eager to be let in on what feels like a big secret.
Logan clears his throat. “Well, uh, because Graham told us that he lost his virginity here. Kind of ruined it for me.”
“Ew!” I squeal. “Don’t ruin it for me too!”
“You asked,” Logan says with a chuckle.
Soon, we’re both laughing and splashing water at each other. I feel like a kid again, flirting with a boy I like at the neighborhood pool. Maybe I was wrong before about none of this being easy. Because this, right now, feels as simple as it gets.
As the sun sinks lower in the sky, we enjoy the relaxing mineral water together. Small talk comes easily, but comfortable silences fill the space between us too.
Finally, once we’re thoroughly pruney, we slip back into our clothes and begin the hike back. By the time we reach the truck, the moon and stars are starting to peek through, and I gladly take Logan up on his offer to drive. I may have made serious progress on the whole driving a stick thing, but I’m not sure I’m ready to tackle it in the dark just yet. Plus, I could use a little time in the passenger seat to reflect on the conversation we just had.
A mile or two down the road, Logan takes a turn in the opposite direction of home. “Are you hungry? I thought we could swing by a taco stand on the way back.”
“I never say no to tacos. It’s a personal principle of mine.”
He laughs, and I wonder if he suggested that because I told him Mexican food is my favorite.
“And I don’t come to this side of the mountain without swinging by the Gonzalez family’s taco stand. So it looks like our principles align.” He grins, and I feel that dimpled smile way down in my belly.
A laugh bubbles out of me, the kind of true, honest laugh that only comes around once in a great while.
But it’s immediately followed by a swift dose of reality. Because I just realized how much this whole day feels like a date, something I haven’t had in forever. But I know it can’t be, no matter what my heart wants.
Even if today was great, and his big family is everything I’ve ever wanted, and Logan’s blue eyes are completely dreamy, I know better than to let my silly fantasies turn into anything more than daydreams.
Maybe I should leave, fly out on the next plane and distance myself from the handsome Logan and all my confusing emotions. But walking away now is the last thing I’m prepared to do.
Somewhere along the way, Logan Tate and his family have taken up space in my heart. Impossibly and against all common sense, I’m feeling things for this man that I have no right to feel. Achingly hot when he levels me with those deep blue eyes. Haunted by all he’s been through. Desperate for the feel of his mouth on mine.
And I’m feeling almost none of the things I should be feeling. Professional and detached, or even unbiased. This is more than problematic. I’ve staked almost my entire professional reputation on this assignment, and yet here I am—in totally over my head.
When we reach the cute roadside attraction, which is just an old silver Airstream that’s been converted into a food truck, Logan orders for us while I take a seat at a nearby picnic table.
I pull a deep breath into my lungs and try to quiet my brain, glancing around.
White Christmas lights twinkle in the darkness, strung from the Airstream to a couple of large pine trees. The entire setup is adorable. They certainly don’t have quaint little places like this in the city. It feels like a well-kept secret—the kind of place where you have to know someone who knows someone.
Thankfully, I do.
Logan returns with a tray filled with warm flour tortillas and plastic containers with red and green salsa. He hands me a bottle of water and explains what he’s ordered for us—tacos with brisket and pulled barbeque chicken, and carnitas tacos topped with queso fresco that smell so good, my stomach grumbles.
“Cheers.” He hands me a water bottle, and then opens his, downing it in one long gulp. Grinning, he says, “Dig in.”
And I do, trying to pretend that this doesn’t feel like the best first date I’ve ever been on.
