He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

behind, her brows shooting up when she realized where they were going, the path that led to the creek. Remembering the disaster that had been last time, her delight over the prospect of a picnic began to fade.
    When they reached the creek, instead of turning to the right as she expected, he turned in the opposite direction. “Where are we going?” she asked, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with his pace.
    He looked back and immediately slowed. “We’re almost there.”
    The path led to a narrow wooden footbridge that arched about three feet high across the creek. Rope handrails were strung between posts placed every few feet on each side.
    Being dragged across the deck and through the woods was one thing, but Amanda wasn’t about to be forced across that rickety-looking bridge. She tugged her hand from Logan’s grasp.
    He turned around with a questioning look on his face. “Something wrong?”
    She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? That old bridge looks like it would fall into the water in a stiff breeze, and you haven’t even explained why we need to cross it. Either tell me where we’re going or I’m turning around.”
    “I bet you never liked surprise parties when you were a little girl,” he teased.
    “You’re right, I didn’t. When you’re a kid, your whole life is wrapped up in what other people think of you, so it’s important to always look your best. If the party is a surprise, you might be caught without makeup or wearing some ratty old outfit you wouldn’t ever want your friends to see you in. I like to know what’s going to happen and plan for it.”
    He leaned back against a post and swept her with an assessing glance. “If I’d given you more time, what would you have done differently?”
    “More time?”
    “Instead of trying to surprise you, which is proving to be very difficult.”
    “Surprise me with what?”
    “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”
    “Oh, good grief,” she said, pretending exasperation. Knowing he wanted to surprise her put everything in a different light. She was suddenly looking forward to whatever he wanted to show her, even if it meant crossing that sorry excuse for a bridge. The water didn’t look all that deep, should she have to go for an unexpected swim. And she was confident Logan would keep her from drowning if it came to that. He seemed capable of just about anything. “Let’s just get on with whatever you want to show me,” she huffed. “If you don’t hurry up I’ll starve to death.”
    He gave her a smug smile, as if he knew she was bluffing, and took her hand again. Matching his stride to hers this time, he tugged her along beside him across the bridge.
    Thankfully the bridge didn’t even wobble as they crossed. “Did you build this bridge?” she asked as they stepped off on the other side and continued on another path through the woods.
    “My dad. He owned this property when I was growing up, but he sold it after he retired. When I moved back here, one of the first things I did was buy the property back. The bridge was still in good condition. All I had to do was restring a new rope handrail.”
    “You mean, the house you live in now—”
    “Is the one I grew up in. Yes.”
    She studied his profile as they walked along the path. Knowing he’d gone to so much trouble to buy the house he’d grown up in surprised her. Who would have thought tough-guy Logan Richards was a sentimental softy on the inside. “What did your dad do for a living?”
    He pushed a small branch out of her way. “He was a regular guy, blue-collar. Married mom right out of high school, didn’t go to college. Worked for thirty years at the paper mill.”
    “Sounds like he was a good man, took care of his family.”
    “You make him sound boring.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “I’m teasing.” He shrugged. “Most people would probably think his life was boring, but he was happy. We never had a lot of money, growing up. The only reason he was able to afford this place was because it was handed down through the family. As it was, he had to sell it to pay the taxes later on. We never did the Disney thing, or Six Flags, places like that, but we did things as a family. The beach, picnics, movies.”
    “You’ve never been to Disney?” she asked, genuinely shocked. Her parents hadn’t had much money, either, but she’d been to Disney so many times she’d lost count. She’d considered it a rite of passage for