Page 24 of Love in the Time of Wildfires

No.

This “no” felt different than all the other ones he said before it. This one was softer, gentler, because he realized, annoying or not, he needed her. Logan didn’t understand how he could miss someone he hardly knew, hoping one of these photos she kept sending him would eventually include her. All he had was the one he’d taken on his phone before their hike, when he pretended to imitate her. Except his was blurry and not very good, because he hadn’t cared then. It was becoming his biggest regret.

The day arrived when they were being let go as the fire job moved from active to cleanup. He was eager to get home—he couldn’t even sleep on the buggy. Instead, Logan gazed out the window, wondering how long it would be until he got to see her. He shared a bench seat with Marcus, who flipped through his phone’s photo gallery, looking at past desserts he’d made. It would be only a matter of time before the guy left to set up his own bakery or something.

“You know Spanish, right?” Logan asked him.

“Sí,” Marcus responded without looking up.

“What does osito mean?” He could have Googled this, but he wasn’t quite sure of the spelling and didn’t want to get it wrong.

The man stopped, one bisected eyebrow raised on his forehead.

“What?” Logan was positive his ears turned red. Had he inadvertently said something offensive? Although he couldn’t imagine River saying something horrible even when mad at him . . . at least not something he hadn’t deserved. “Is it something bad?”

“No, not at all,” Marcus responded before one side of his mouth tilted in amusement. “Did someone call you osito, Sonny?”

“No,” Logan quickly replied, having the need to deny everything. Whatever this was with River, he didn’t want to share it with anyone. “Just forget it.” He crossed his arms, pulling his face into its usual scowl.

“It means little bear.”

He glanced at the guy to see if Marcus was putting one over on him. “Are you being serious?”

“Yeah. That’s what it means.”

Logan couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was probably the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard. The sound drew odd looks from some of his nearby seatmates, and he covered his mouth before staring out the window again.

Upon arriving home, he bound up the apartment steps before standing in the alcove wondering if he should bother her. He just wanted to see her. That’s all. He was being ridiculous. He knew this. They were just neighbors. That’s all it would ever be.

Logan turned to his door, getting out his keys, making more noise than was warranted before changing his mind again.

Fuck it.

He turned, knocked on her door, and waited nervously—unsure how she’d greet him and not sure how he wanted her to.

No one answered.

He should have checked to see if her car was in the parking lot. Looking at the time on his phone, he concluded she might be at work.

Against his better judgment, he went back down the stairs and drove to the museum. This was a mistake. He knew it was, and yet, he couldn’t stop. She’d called him little bear and it had made him laugh.

Logan needed to see her.

Chapter Eight

The kid with the red pigtails was snotty. This was meant in the literal way and not in terms of attitude. The six-year-old kept jumping toward River while she gave her presentation on rainbow trout in front of the large aquarium filled with a school of fish swimming back and forth. Every time the kid approached, she insisted on holding River’s hand, even while being congested and having a constantly runny nose.

River didn’t mind giving presentations to small school children. In fact, most of the time it was enjoyable, but she was grossed out at all the snot the kid produced. She had to work hard not to react. Blech. This was not changing her mind regarding not spawning her own children. If people wanted to have kids, fine with her, but River had no interest. The only babies she enjoyed were the animal kind.

“Britnae, leave the nice lady alone and come sit down,” said the kids’ chaperone. “She’s trying to teach us about the fish.”

Britnae would mind this directive for about two minutes before bounding up again and grabbing River’s hand. Keeping herself professional, River finished the end of her speech at a rapid-fire pace. As she was answering a few leftover questions, she glanced up, and someone talking to Jefferson caught her eye. The older, father-like coworker of hers pointed in her direction.

Her gaze connected with the man across the expansive hall.

Logan.

Something inside her lit up. It had to be as obvious as the sun as a smile broke across her expression. She’d never been good at hiding her emotions.