replayed.
It required more than skill. There was an element of luck to breaking through the noise, like Ryan Kelly’s being in the perfect spot to capture that prizewinning, brutal image of the car plowing into the racially charged protests in Charlottesville, Virginia.
What did it say about him that making a name for himself was worth placing himself smack in the middle of a riot, literally putting his life at risk? Claire would never think any prize worth a life.
He believed there were things worth dying for—one’s country, an uncompromising principle or value, saving the life of another—but an accolade? Could he really have been pursuing his dream for the wrong reasons all along?
Karina batted his foot. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve been mopey all week.”
He set the empty bottle on the floor, then stood and walked to the window. From her third-floor walk-up he could see swarms of people on the sidewalk, and streets crowded by cyclists, cars, and delivery vans. He closed his eyes to picture the unpolluted view of the Sound and imagined the echo of the woodpecker’s bill drilling the tree outside his bedroom window at Arcadia House. “I’m not mopey.”
“Is it Peyton? Was there a setback or something?”
“No. She’s doing great. If she weren’t, I wouldn’t be going with you.” He scratched the back of his head. His hair had grown only an inch or so. He supposed it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have it short in a hot, dirty place like the refugee camps of Lesbos. He glanced over his shoulder to find Karina scowling at him.
“I’ve never seen you less enthused to dig for a story than you are right now.” Karina crossed her arms. “Is it Claire?”
He glanced away at the first sight of her amused expression. “I’m a little tired, that’s all. It’s been an emotional several months with Peyton, and now I have to switch gears and get back into a working mind-set. I’ll be fine by the time we land.”
“You’d better be, Logan. You might have a trust fund to fall back on, but my career and rep are all I have.”
“Have I ever given less than one thousand percent?” He frowned.
“Not yet . . .” She picked up his empty bottle and carried it to her sink. “But you know the saying. There’s a first time for everything.”
“Not for me.” He turned away from the window.
“Hope you’re right, although it seems like it might be your first time for something else.”
He narrowed his eyes, failing to follow her logic.
“Claire? You like her . . . like, like her.” Karina seemed to be tamping down a giggle. “Could she be the woman who finally brings you to heel?”
To heel? He shook his head to reject the dog metaphor and then crossed to the door, waving her suggestion away. “I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow night.”
He could hear her laughter as he closed the door. A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead, although his discomfort at having his feelings for Claire exposed made little sense. He trotted down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, heading west toward his place. When he arrived, Steffi was still working.
“Didn’t expect you to stay so late.” He closed his door, forcing a smile despite a dull headache.
She balanced on her ladder, mounting one of the picture-frame moldings to the wall. “Trying to get as much done as possible. No use getting caught in rush-hour traffic, and I’d rather work four long days than come back for a fifth.”
“Makes sense.” Logan tossed his keys on the counter. Some masochistic part of him wanted to edit those pictures he’d taken of Claire at the Breakers, but first he had to eat something. The apple and three beers he’d had at Karina’s wouldn’t sustain him for long. “You hungry? I’m ordering takeout.”
“Chinese?”
He shrugged. “If you want.”
“I’m not starving, but I can always eat a spring roll and pan-fried dumplings.” She nailed another section of the molding.
He noted the paint cans, sprayers, brushes, and such collected in one corner. Drop cloths folded into piles. He’d cleared out most of his furniture so they could work while he traveled, but he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on the blow-up mattress tonight. “When will you start painting?”
“I’ve finished the sanding and caulking, and am almost done with this framing. I should get a coat of primer done by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m getting out of here tomorrow, so I won’t have to sleep