She'd packed a picnic along with some towels, and when Zeus grew tired, they retreated farther up the beach and settled down for lunch. Methodically, she pulled out the makings for sandwiches and cut up fresh fruit. As they ate, a shrimp trawler rode the horizon, and for a long time, Logan focused on it with the preoccupied gaze she'd noticed on and off for most of the week.
"You're getting that look again," she finally said. "What look?"
"Spill it," she said, ignoring his question. "What's bothering you? And no vague answers this time."
"I'm fine," he said, turning to meet her gaze. "I know I've seemed a little off for the last few days, but I'm just trying to figure something out."
"What, exactly?"
"Why we're going out."
Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't what she'd expected to hear, and she could feel her expression freeze. "That came out wrong," he said, shaking his head quickly. "I didn't mean it the way you think. I was thinking more about why this opportunity even existed. It doesn't make sense." She frowned. "I'm still not following you." Zeus, who'd been lying beside them, lifted his head to watch a flock of seagulls that landed nearby. Beyond them, at the water's edge, were pipers darting about for tiny sand crabs. Logan studied them before going on. When he spoke, his voice was steady, like a professor elaborating on a subject he taught.
"If you look at this from my perspective, this is what I see: an intelligent, charming, beautiful woman, not yet thirty, witty, and passionate. Also, when she wishes, extremely seductive." He gave her a knowing smile before continuing. "In other words, a catch, by pretty much anyone's definition." He paused. "Stop me if I'm making you uncomfortable."
She reached over and tapped his knee. "You're doing just fine," she said. "Go on."
He ran a restless hand through his hair. "That's what I've been trying to understand. I've been thinking about it the last few days."
She tried without success to follow his train of thought. This time instead of tapping his knee, she squeezed it. "You need to learn to be more clear. I'm still not following you."
For the first time since she'd known him, she saw a flash of impatience cross his features. Almost immediately it was gone, and she sensed somehow that it was directed more at himself than at her.
"I'm saying that it doesn't make sense that you haven't had a relationship since your ex." He paused, as if searching for the right phrase. "Yes, you have a son, and for some men, that might make a relationship with you a nonstarter. But then, you don't generally hide the fact that you're a mother, and I assume most people in this small town know your situation. Am I right?"
She hesitated. "Yes."
"And the men who asked you out. They all knew you had a son in advance?"
"Yes."
He fixed her with a speculative expression. "Then where are they?"
Zeus rotated his head into her lap. and she began to stroke him behind the ears, feeling her defensiveness rise,
"What does it matter?" she asked. "And to be honest, I'm not sure I'm all that thrilled with these kinds of questions. What happened in the past is my business, and I can't undo it, and I'll be damned if you're going to sit here and question me about who I dated and when I dated them and what happened on those dates. I am who I am, and I'd think you of all people would understand that, Mr. I-walked-from-Colorado-but-don't-ask-me-why."
He was quiet, and she knew he was reflecting on what she'd said. When he spoke again, his voice brimmed with unexpected tenderness.
"I'm not saying this to make you angry. I'm saying this because I think you're the most remarkable woman I've ever met." Again, he paused before going on, making sure his words had penetrated. "The thing is, I'm pretty sure that almost every man would feel the same way I do. And since you have gone out with other men, especially in this small town where there are only so many available women in your age group, I'm sure they would have recognized the terrific person that you are. Okay, maybe some of them weren't your cup of tea, so you ended it. But what about the others? The ones you liked? There had to have been someone, somewhere along the line with whom you seemed to click."
He scooped up a handful of sand and slowly spread his fingers, allowing the grains to slip through his fingers. "That's what I've been thinking about. Because it's just not plausible that you wouldn't have clicked with someone, and yet you told me yourself that you haven't had a lot of luck in the dating world."
He wiped his hand on the towel. "Am I wrong so far?"
She stared at him, wondering how he knew so much. "No," she said.
"And you've wondered about it, haven't you?"
"Sometimes," she confessed. "But don't you think you're reading way too much into this? Even if I were as perfect as you say, you have to remember that times have changed. There are probably thousands, if not tens of thousands, of women that you could describe in the same way."
"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But you're not convinced."
"No." His clear blue eyes held her in their unwavering scrutiny.
"What? You think there's some sort of conspiracy?" Instead of answering directly, he reached for another handful of sand. "What can you tell me about your ex?" he asked. "Why does that matter?"
"I'm curious as to how he feels about you dating."
"I'm sure he doesn't care in the slightest. And I can't imagine why you think that even matters."
He released the sand all at once. "Because," he said, his voice low. He turned toward her. "I'm pretty sure he was the one who broke into my house the other day."
Chapter 19
Thibault
Late Saturday evening, after Elizabeth had left, Thibault found Victor sitting in his living room, still dressed in the shorts and cabana-style shirt he'd been wearing on the day he died.
The sight of him stopped Thibault in his tracks. All he could do was stare. It wasn't possible, nor was it really happening. Thibault knew that Victor was gone, buried in a small plot near Bakersfield. He knew Zeus would have reacted had anyone real been in the house, but Zeus simply wandered to his water bowl.
In the silence, Victor smiled. "There is more," he said, his voice a hoarse promise.
When Thibault blinked, Victor was gone, and it was obvious he'd never been there at all.
It was the third time Thibault had seen Victor since he had passed away. The first time had been at the funeral, when Thibault had rounded a corner near the back of the church and seen Victor staring at him from the end of the hallway. "It's not your fault," Victor had said before dissolving away. Thibault's throat had closed up, forcing him to rush to catch his breath.
The second appearance occurred three weeks before he set out on his walk. That time, it had happened in the grocery store, as Thibault was rummaging through his wallet, trying to figure out how much beer he could purchase. He'd been drinking heavily in those days, and as he counted the bills, he saw an image from the corner of his eye. Victor shook his head but said nothing. He didn't have to. Thibault knew that he was being told that it was time to end the drinking. Now, this.
Thibault didn't believe in ghosts, and he knew that the image of Victor hadn't been real. There was no specter haunting him, no visits from beyond, no restless spirit with a message to deliver. Victor was a figment of his imagination, and Thibault knew that his subconscious had conjured up the image. After all, Victor had been the one person Thibault had always listened to.
He knew the boating accident had been just that: an accident. The kids who'd been driving the boat had been traumatized, and their horror at what had happened was genuine. As for the drinking, he'd known deep down that the booze was doing more harm than good. Somehow, though, it was easier to listen to Victor. The last thing he'd expected was to see his friend once more. He considered Victor's words-there is more-and wondered whether they related to his conversation with Elizabeth. Somehow he didn't think so, but he couldn't figure it out, and it nagged at him. He suspected that the harder he pressed himself for an answer, the less likely it was that the answer would come. The subconscious was funny like that.