“I spend my days hunched over boring old papers, do I?” My stick whistles through the air, and she leaps back to dodge the blow. Spinning, I tap her with the sheathed blade before she can raise her arms in defense.

“My point,” I say, and don’t bother hiding my smirk.

She circles me. “Lucky shot.”

I lash out again, but she’s ready. Blocking me with the middle of her Switch, she whirls beneath my outstretched arms and slams the weighted end into my thigh.

Pride keeps me from swearing at the pain. Instead, I sweep her feet out from under her. She flips in midair and rolls forward as she lands, coming up with her stick ready.

The controlled grace of her movements would make Jared proud. I decide the warm emotion sweeping through me must be pride too.

“You’re fast. That’s good,” I say, advancing toward her.

“You’re not bad for a tech head.”

We block, parry, and break apart. She’s strong and quick, but I worry she doesn’t know how to anticipate the unexpected. I step back, inviting an attack, and she charges forward, swinging the weighted end of her stick like a butcher slicing the head from a sheep. I wait until the last second, then drop to the ground and ram her with my shoulder. Her forward momentum carries her over the top of me and she lands face-first in the grass.

She spits dry blades of grass from her mouth, and swears, but a new respect for me is in her eyes.

I laugh, and my fear for her eases into something I can use to focus on planning. She stares at me, a tiny smile flitting across her lips, and the affection on her face makes me feel like the richest man in the world.

“I was a fighter long before I was a tech head.” I offer her a hand up. “You need to be ready for an opponent who does the unexpected.”

She takes my outstretched hand, closing her soft fingers over mine without breaking my gaze. The sun blazes a golden path through her fiery hair, and my eyes slide over her pale skin and come to rest on her lips. Warmth pools in my stomach and spreads lazily through me as I tug her hand and pull her closer.

I’m not going to kiss her. That would be … I don’t know what that would be. I can’t seem to think straight. All I see is Rachel, filling up my empty spaces and making me into more than I ever could be on my own.

Maybe this is what family does for each other. She’s my family now. Which is why, even as I lean toward her, unable to tear my gaze away from the softness of her mouth, I tell myself I’m not going to kiss her.

She steps toward me, face upturned. I lean in.

Behind us, someone clears his throat.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LOGAN

I drop her hand and whip around, my Switch ready. Oliver stands on our back porch with the sternest expression he can manage aimed straight at me.

Rachel steps back and bends to pick up her weapon. I find I’m suddenly very interested in the exact position of the sun, and I take a moment to study the sky. When I look back at Oliver, his brow is raised.

“Going to invite an old man in? Or going to stand there pretending I didn’t just see—”

“We were sparring.” Rachel hefts her Switch to prove it.

“That’s not what we called it in my day,” Oliver says, and motions for us to come inside the house with him.

I can’t look at Rachel as we walk inside. The room feels charged with awkwardness, and I have absolutely no idea how to defuse it without just addressing my sudden, inexplicable attraction to her head on. Which I might do, if I could explain it. And if Oliver wasn’t in the room.

He claps me on the shoulder and uses his other arm to drag Rachel to his side. “It’s nice to see the two of you putting aside your differences and discovering how much you really have in common. Rachel, would you mind getting me some water?”

As Rachel hurries toward the kitchen, Oliver looks me in the eye. “You’re a good man, Logan McEntire. You’re the son I never had. I know I can trust you with her.”

The weight of his trust lands heavily on top of the trust already placed in me by Jared. “It won’t happen again,” I say, though I don’t know if I mean it.

He grins. “Oh, I wouldn’t go making promises you might not be able to keep. Just see that if you do decide she’s the one for you, you handle it properly.”

The one for me? I stare at Rachel as Oliver leaves my side and enters the kitchen, settling his bulk at my cluttered table. It was just an impulse. She’s beautiful and strong in a way I appreciate. Of course I find her attractive. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to Claim her. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Feeling unaccountably irritated by Oliver’s assumption, I follow him into the kitchen. Rachel settles on the floor, leaning against Oliver’s legs as he takes out a towel-wrapped bundle of sticky buns and hands it to her. I take the other chair. Time to set aside the baffling subject of my feelings for Rachel and concentrate on something far more straightforward: my plan to get Oliver out of Baalboden with us.

Before I can speak, though, Oliver says, “You two may be right. I think Jared’s still alive.”

“What?” I lean forward as Rachel’s eyes meet mine, full of shock and eager anticipation.

“Why do you think that?” she asks, setting the sticky buns on the table.

“I talked with some folks who were out trading with that band of highwaymen that got themselves killed by the Cursed One the other day. Word among the city-states is that your father is the most wanted man in the Wasteland.”