Truly Madly Deeply: Volumes 1-4

by Brenda Pandos

  Moonlight pours into the room, illuminating his face, and I peer into his eyes. They’re kind, yet concerned.

  “Hold me?” I ask.

  He envelops me into his arms and squeezes me tight. A shiver courses through my body at his touch, and I collapse into him, welcoming his warmth. Then the tears fall and I hope he can’t hear me sob.

  “It’s okay, Maddy. I’ve got you,” he says in my hair. “No one is going to hurt you. I promise.”

  When I open my eyes again, the alarm is blaring. A tanned forearm is wrapped around my waist and squeezing me close. Everything rushes back, and I jump out of bed.

  My hand slams on the snooze button. Logan doesn’t move. He just lies there, shirtless on my bed, and I’m stunned with how beautiful he is, and that he slept with me all night in my tiny twin bed. My heart still beats erratically as I process how this amazing chain of events happened.

  Holy shit.

  His brown eyes open and zero in on my bare legs. “Hey, sunshine.”

  I squeak, remembering I’m in my underwear, and grab my jeans to cover myself. Of course I’m wearing the lacy black pair that he’d ogled when we did our laundry together. My cheeks burn.

  He laughs and rolls onto his back, as if looking at the ceiling will give me some privacy. “You’re such a tease.”

  “Am not.” I slide them on, but when I look up, his eyes dart away. A thrill runs through me. Isn’t he the least bit concerned someone might find out he spent the night with me?

  “How are you feeling?”

  I run my hand over my eye and wince, before looking in the mirror hanging on the wall. The puffy skin crowds against my eyes, matching my eyelids that look like Vienna sausages. “I’ve looked better.”

  “I think you look great.”

  My shoulders sag in relief.

  “Guys dig scars.” He gets out of bed and walks past me with his jeans hanging low on his hips.

  “I’m not scarred.”

  I want to follow him and run my hands all over his body, preferably in the shower. I suck in a deep breath to center myself. This can’t happen. He can’t happen. I’m not the stealing type.

  Seconds after that, I hear the bathroom door close. I return to the mirror. Of course my hair is everywhere as well. I quickly change my shirt, and remember I have to wear long sleeves to hide the handprint on my arm.

  “Great.” That’s worse as well.

  I run a brush through the tangles and pull my hair through the hole in the back of my baseball hat. I finish with mascara and power, but no amount of cover-up hides the purple bruise on my cheek without looking obvious.

  The toilet flushes and the door opens, and my heart does a back flip in response. Logan saunters past and picks up his shirt off the other bed. He gives me a sexy leer before he puts it on. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

  I can’t help but smile. “Can’t wait to tell my mom.”

  He laughs and walks out of my room. “See you at breakfast.”

  I stand there for a moment and shake my head. Though technically we didn’t do anything, this feels so much more intimate.

  Fifteen minutes later, I show up to the mess hall, hat low to shield my eye. Joe is pulling biscuits out of the oven in the back, and I wonder how long it’ll be until he officially fires me.

  I really just want to avoid everyone, everyone except Logan. Maybe Joe will have pity if he sees the bruise. I head to the linen closet to get an apron.

  “You have gravy duty,” Logan purrs while coming up from behind me. He rests his hands on my hips for a moment. A thrill trails my spine. “I’m so jealous.”

  I smirk as I put on my apron, and try to focus. “Why?”

  “It’s the gravy job.”

  “You’re such a nerd.” I hit his arm, but I’m so turned on, I just want him to ravage me right there in the linen closet.

  The fact he spent the night has my hormones fired up. And because I didn’t shower, I still smell him on my skin.

  “A real man would cook you breakfast, but since we’re here, this will have to do.” He holds out a miniature daisy he’d obviously picked outside.

  I warm at the gesture, and take the flower, speechless.

  He gives me a wink, then leaves me, hot and bothered, as he walks over to the grill. I miss his close proximity, but I tuck the flower by my ear and head over to assist one of the cooks with the gravy. Soon, the kids show up and we’re scrambling to get the meal served on time.

  Once everyone is eating, Dirk walks over to where I stand next the buffet line. “How you feeling?”

  “Fine.” I manage a smile.

  He tries to inspect my eye, but I tilt my head down and glare at his intrusion. “Do you need something?”

  He lets out a huff and turns to stand next to me, keeping his voice low. “Yeah. Stop by later. I have to fill out an incident report.”

  “Incident? For what?”

  Dirk nods. “For what happened.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Maddy, let’s not get into this here.”

  “Look,” I say quietly. “We had an argument. It happens, but I don’t get why my private business needs to be reported.”

  “Well, I agree, but it became my business when I picked you up off the side of the road with a black eye. It’s protocol for kids and staff.”

  All of it is stupid, but I’m not going to argue in front of the kids. “Look. I’m sorry he caused a scene. But it’s over.”

  “Maddy. I don’t have a choice. Do you understand?”

  I sigh. “Yes, Dirk. I fully understand.”

  “Great, then I’ll see you later.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’ll come by after breakfast.”

  Dirk turns to leave, and nods a “hello” to Logan, who’s heading our way.

  “What was that about?” he asks after Dirk leaves.

  “Nothing.”

  I was so over all of this. If only my face would heal just as fast so people would forget. I scan the hall to confirm my suspiciouns. Counselors are staring and whispering, so I know my drama is too good to pass up.

  Joe walks up to me and my heart speeds up.

  “I’m sorry, Joe. About everything. I promise it won’t happen again…”

  He twists his head to study my eye. “It’s a little late for ice, but vinegar will do. Or parsley. Stay here.”

  He heads into the kitchen and comes out a few minutes later with a small plastic bowl of diced parsley. “Put it on your eye and let it sit there.” He pats my back after I take the bowl.

  “Thank you.” I wait for him to tell me I’m fired, but he merely gives me a loving fatherly look.

  “Take care of yourself,” he says before returning to the kitchen.

  I stand, holding the bowl, and try to catch my breath. None of this is going down like I thought, thankfully. I’ll survive another day.

  By lunch, though, everyone is giving me sympathetic looks and the heat of the day is making me sweat in my long sleeves. At this rate, I’ll pass out in the snack shack before finishing my shift. I need something to cover my arm until I can apply the parsly.

  Raiding the skit closet, the only thing I find is two gold armbands and a flowy white dress I can wear off my shoulders and cinch up at one side. I know I look more like a gypsy than a pirate with the ridiculous eye patch, but at least it’s close. Once I enter the pool area, I notice no one else is dressed up.

  “Open, open,” the boys chant in line.

  Sam smiles and runs over to grab the till from my hands.

  “Hi,” he says. “Nice patch.”

  “Thanks.” I try to look natural. Not like I didn’t get the memo about the non-costume day.

  It’s hard to unlock the door with the patch on, and once I get inside, I chuck the thing across the room.

  Sam sets down the till and looks upward. His eyes crinkle. “What happened to your eye?”

  “I ran into a sign.”

  “With your face?”


  “Pretty much, yes.” The exaggeration starts to feel like the truth.

  I slide the window open and glare at the boys. They stop chanting. “Argh, ye swamp rats. Who here has the privilege of being me first victim?”

  The first one steps up, and rattles off his order, and I wonder when Logan will show. After an hour, I begin to think that he’s not coming at all.

  Sweat pours down the back of my legs, and when there’s a lull in the line, I duck down and attempt to pull the dress off. Somehow, it gets stuck on my head, and I struggle to free myself. One of the arm bracers goes flying and bounces across the floor behind me as I attempt to wiggle free.

  “Anyone there?” a girl calls through the window.

  “Yes,” I say with relief. “Can you help me?”

  The door creaks open, and I turn toward the noise. “Thank you, this is so embarrassing. I’m stuck.”

  “Yes, you are.” I hear the humor in Logan’s voice and feel my cheeks heat in response. “It seems like you’ve needed a lot of rescuing lately.”

  “Funny… Can you get this thing off? But I’m in my bra.”

  His hands slide up my sides and a tingle races through me. He takes ahold of the zipper and yanks. The dress gives way.

  “Don’t look.” I pull the dreaded thing off, rush to grab my tank top, and turn. I look up into his brown eyes.

  “That’s twice today,” he says.

  “I… I know. I’m sorry.”

  He says nothing, but his smile lights up everything inside me, then I remember the bracer.

  I scan the floor for it, unable to see where it’s disappeared to. Luckily the one that’s still on is covering the bruise.

  Logan watches me curiously. “What are you doing?”

  I smooth my hands down my shorts and smile. “Oh, just looking for the rest of my costume.”

  He eyes the lone bracer on my arm for a second. “I thought you were taking off your costume.”

  “I… well… there’s a toga party later, so…”

  He lifts his left brow. “Toga party, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I sit on the stool, and lean against the counter, trying to act natural, though I’m still sweating like a pig. “It’s all the rage with those who pillage and steal booty these days, or so I’m told.”

  “I think I’ve heard that, actually.” He copies my posture and leans against the counter, staring at me with curious eyes, like he wants to bring up yesterday, or maybe just the chemistry between us.

  His closeness makes my toes curl, and I can’t deny, after yesterday’s chivalrous display, I’m falling hard for him.

  “I forgot my toga.”

  “I can make you one.” I scan the area and find a dishcloth. “How’s this?”

  He laughs, and shakes his head. “I think I’d be better off with a codpiece.”

  We both bust up, and just like that, yesterday is gone. Nothing has changed between us like I thought it would.

  He keeps watching me.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “We slept together.”

  I bite my lip. If he knew his little flower was in a tiny cup of water on my nightstand, he’d flip. “Yeah…”

  “I didn’t plan that.”

  “Yet you were in my room when I came back.”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You didn’t wake me up, though. Why not?”

  I licked my lips and leaned in, resting my chin on my hand. “You were too cute to wake up.”

  He lifts his brow. “Oh, really.”

  “Can I have a Drumstick?” a girl asks at the window.

  I jump at her voice, and reach over to grab her one from the fridge. The lone bracer snags against the counter in the process and pops off. To my horror, it skitters across the counter and out of the window before I can grab it. My glance goes from the missing bracer to Logan’s eyes, as I try to hide the evidence of Gage’s abuse with my hand.

  “Here.” The girl hands me the bracer back, and I snap it into place.

  “Thanks. Here’s your Drumstick.”

  She gives me the money and leaves, but Logan doesn’t stop glaring.

  Anger and pain cross his expression. “You have a bruise, Madison.”

  I suck in a breath, and look away. I have nothing to say in my defense.

  He leans closer to me. “He grabbed you, didn’t he?”

  “No,” I defend.

  “Then why is your arm bruised?” He touches my forearm, and I flinch. “It’s a hand print, isn’t it?”

  A group of girls come to the counter, giggling and tittering. They stop and stare at us.

  I turn and fake a smile. “What have ye?”

  “Um… Pot of Rainbow Booty,” one says.

  “And a Shiver Me Timbers,” says the redheaded one.

  “What’s a Blow Me Down Pop?” the third asks.

  “Blow Pop,” I say calmly, but I’m keenly aware of Logan’s every move. He stands stiffly, cold as ice, and I know once they leave, he’s going to lay into me.

  “Oh… I get it.” The girl chuckles, and she continues to read aloud the menu.

  “What do you want?” I ask gruffer.

  “I guess I’ll get a Blow Me Down and some Jolly Rogers. What flavors do you have?”

  “Every flavor.” I shove the box forward, the whole time rehearsing what I’ll say in my defense when they leave. The girl finally makes a decision, and I take her money.

  Once they’re gone, I turn to Logan. “He grabbed my arm because he didn’t want me to leave the truck, okay? He’s never hurt me before. I bruise easy.”

  Another justified stretch of the truth. Though Gage didn’t hit me, he’d grabbed me plenty of times and left marks like this in the past, and most of the time I’d deserved it.

  “Yet you defended him yesterday, and lied about it just now.”

  “I didn’t know it was there until this morning.” I swallow hard. “I’m sure you fight with Kat and accidents happen.”

  “I’ve never left a bruise, Maddy.”

  “Well, neither has Gage.”

  “Until yesterday.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Logan closes his eyes. “The difference between me and Gage is that I will never hurt Kat, or you, or any woman. Ever.”

  Another group of boys show up at the window. I turn to them, smiling like nothing’s wrong, and take their orders. When I’m finished, Logan’s gone. The tears well in my eyes as I step outside and scan the pool area for him. He’s nowhere. More kids line up in front of the shack, and I return inside.

  His rejection hurts, it hurts way more than it should.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The week slowly passes, and Friday arrives. I’d managed to cover the bruise with a large pirate ship tattoo, but at this point it’s faded and the sail now shows the healing greenish tinge. Logan hasn’t said two words to me since our fight in the snack shack, if you could call it a fight.

  I dress for dinner like a zombie, dreading our interaction tonight. Every time I see him, knowing he doesn’t care about me, is a twist of the dagger in my heart. It’s hard enough that everyone knows my dirty laundry, but to lose him as my friend, is torture.

  I walk into the kitchen and retrieve an apron. My heart plummets when I see we’re both assigned to cut up the condiments for the hamburger station. Maybe that’s what we need; a reason to talk. Or maybe, he’ll just stab me with a knife instead. It’ll hurt less.

  I receive my instructions from Joe on how to use the slicer, and load it up with tomatoes. A few moments later, Jordan walks up.

  “What are we supposed to do?” she asks.

  I crane my neck and look behind her. Logan’s talking with Joe. “I thought Logan was doing condiments.”

  “He asked to trade with me. He’s leaving early.”

  Early? My heart sinks. “Oh. We’re just supposed to chop up the lettuce and line it on the pan like that.” I show her what to do, then return my attention to the slicer. Once I’m out o
f tomatoes, I stick the onions on the machine while Sophie chops lettuce leaves.

  I’m so pissed I can’t see straight, and once the onion juice hits my eyes, the tears roll freely without anyone suspecting why.

  Dinner’s finally served, and from my peripheral vision, I catch Logan clocking out and leaving.

  “Wait,” I say as I walk over to him, but he’s gone. “Cover for me, will ya?” I ask Sophie. “I’ll be right back.”

  I step outside and look both ways. Logan’s already out of sight. “Logan?” I call out.

  He doesn’t reply.

  I run down the path toward his cabin. He’s exiting, and locking the door with a duffle bag in is his hand.

  I stand, blocking the porch exit, so he has to speak to me.

  “Logan,” I say out of breath.

  He turns toward me, pensive. Then he lets out a long breath. “Maddy…”

  “What is going on with you?”

  He hardens his jaw and glances downward. After a pause, he says, “I can’t talk right now. I gotta go.”

  I work to catch my breath. “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  The tears surface. I shouldn’t be upset he’s off to see Kat, but I can’t help it. “Well, I want to work out whatever’s wrong between us before you go.”

  His eyes find me, face sincere. “Why, Maddy?”

  “Because I’ve obviously offended you, and… I want to fix it.”

  His lips pull into a harsh line. “I don’t know how you can.”

  “Because I didn’t tell you Gage grabbed me? Maybe I just want to keep stuff like that to myself.”

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  “So that’s it? We’re friends as long as I do what you want, otherwise you’re going to bail. I thought you cared about me.”

  He works his jaw. “That’s the thing. I care about you, more than I should.”

  The words slice into me, and once again I’m breathless. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t care about someone who purposely puts themselves in harm’s way and then lies about it.”

  I swallow hard, and look away. It’s like he’s slapped me, and I’m embarrassed, humiliated, and crushed, all in the same feeling. “You’re right. This is stupid. I—I’m gonna go. Have a great weekend.”