They’d made promises then, to themselves and each other. By the sound of Dylan’s voice, he’d be the first to fulfill his.
“You’re really going to do this,” Logan said. “Three weeks canoeing through the wilderness.”
“Damn right. The grant finally came through.”
“Congrats, Dyl. I hope you don’t get eaten by a bear.”
“I started making the birch bark canoe ahead of time,” Dylan chattered on. “I’ve been seasoning some white cedar for the gunwales and ribs. I’m heading up to the old cabin right now to buckle down to work.”
Logan said, “How is the ever-irascible Pops MacCabe?”
“Alzheimer’s sucks.” Dylan didn’t hold back his sigh. “We lose a little more of him every day. But he comes to his old, lively self when I talk to him about retracing his rum-running route…so I think I made the right choice.”
Logan nodded. Pops MacCabe had been like a second father to him too. Logan hated to think of that wiry, fire-breathing marshmallow of a storyteller struck down by sickness.
“That’s actually why I called,” Dylan said. “I was thinking about doing the trip alone, but it came to me that Grampa never traveled alone, so neither should I. You want to join me on an adventure?”
Logan grimaced. He should have seen this coming. He knew he wasn’t living up to the expectations they’d all expressed during those last soul-baring hours on the rugby field. He’d been content to hang out in this cabin, think about nothing at all.
Logan countered, “Why not ask Garrick?” .
He countered, “Why not Garrick?”
“That city boy? You remember fishing with Garrick two summers ago? He was checking stock prices the whole time. You know he’s always working, even if he should know better now.” Dylan shifted the Jeep’s gears hard. Logan recognized the sound since Dylan had had the jeep since college. “Besides, I might need a doctor in the wilderness if I break a leg or something.”
“I can’t imagine what makes you think I’ll be free and available for three long weeks.”
“You haven’t mentioned any other plans.” Dylan’s frustration crackled through the phone. “But by all means, tell me if you do. I won’t be disappointed either way.”
“I’m working on it.” That was a bald-faced lie.
“Then fly out and work on it here. The MacCabe cabin is all mine this summer, and I’d love the company.”
Logan remembered that cabin with fondness, the pine woods, the fly-fishing stream just out back, the smell of sap that permeated the place. He’d spent a lot of summers in college sleeping in the screened porch, lulled by the music of katydids. Dylan’s offer opened up a world of possibilities, including the option to get out of Jenny’s way. Her eyes screamed that she was interested—but her attitude said something different. She deserved better than being shacked up with a guy who prodded her temper at every turn, a guy who should be avoiding entanglements anyway. He sucked his breath between his teeth as he remembered the softness of her lips under his, and her soft gasp of surprise when he gave her the kiss they both wanted. The best way to make amends would be to leave her alone.
But there could be another way, too.
“Logan?” Dylan said. “You still there?”
“Dylan. Listen.” He peered at that grimy basement window, searching for a flash of a blond head, gripped by an idea. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something I have to finish up here.”
“You’re dodging me.”
“No. This has to do with…something else.”
“You’re saying ‘something’ but I’m hearing ‘someone.’”
“Yeah, well,” Logan said. “Gotta go.”
“You sneaky bastard.”
“Keep me updated on the canoe trip, Dylan.”
“I will, so long as you let me know if Miss someone works out.”
Logan ended the call and strode into the cabin through the back door before he could change his mind. He made a beeline to the downstairs lab, where Jenny stood in a white lab coat, peering at computer screen next to a box that blinked and hummed on the workbench. Under the industrial hood behind her, something burbled in a round-bottomed glass set just above a gas burner. The whole room smelled of crushed greenery.
She raised her head and pinned him through a pair of safety glasses. She looked like she’d been bracing for his arrival all day.
He gazed around the room. “Impressive hideout.”
One sleek brow raised above the edge of the glasses. “It’s not a hideout. It’s a lab.”
“It’s serving double duty.”
“I’m not hiding from anybody, Logan. I’m working.”
“You work too much.”
“I enjoy my work. I always work this hard. I’m good at it. And I’d like to get back to it.”
“And get rid of me.”
She didn’t have to say it. It was written all over her, like letters scratched in window ice.
He tried for a charming smile. He used to have one, but this was rusty.
“I have a solution to our problem, Red.”
“We don’t have a problem. I’m working here. You’re working in the shed. We’re staying out of each other’s way.”
“That didn’t work the other day.”
“Logan.” She closed her eyes and then opened them again. “I’m busy.”
“Keeping busy used to work for me, too. It distracted me from whatever I didn’t want to think about.” He stepped down to the basement floor and leaned a shoulder against the concrete wall. “But these days, I just can’t get my mind off you, Red.”
She looked away with a catch of breath, tucked a tress back into her chignon, and then fiddled with a knob on the humming machine.
“Jenny,” he said. “How would you like to go out on a date?”
The machine hissed and hummed but she didn’t move a muscle.
“Nothing fancy,” he continued. “Pizza, maybe a movie. There’s nothing much else to do around here, anyway.”
Jenny swept the safety glasses off her face, dislodging the stray curl from the messy way she’d tied it up. She clanked the glasses on the table and took a breath that made her breasts strain against the buttons of the lab coat.
He remembered what those breasts looked like, glazed with
