Logan lay in the dark motel room, listening to Marie's deep, even breaths as she slept, his mind sorting through the bits and pieces of information he had gathered about her over the last few days. She was definitely on the run from something or someone. He saw her checking her mirrors to see if she was being followed when she thought he wasn’t looking. He knew she had IDs and credit cards in several different last names. And although the roadside attractions were a reason to take the occasional backroad, they didn’t require the circuitous routes she planned, avoiding all the major highways and stops. Yet he didn't smell fear or panic on her. The measures she was taking to stay hidden seemed more like long-standing habits.
Regardless of who or what she was hiding from, Logan was determined to stay close to her so that he would be on hand if it did happen to catch up with her. He had insisted on paying for the motel that next night, arguing that she had paid the first night and counting on her to be too polite to ask for two rooms if he were paying. He had been right about that, and although she had seemed a bit jumpy at first, he did his best to treat her like a sister -- or like he thought someone would treat their sister, at least -- and she had settled down. Since then, each night they had gotten a single room with two beds without discussion.
Ironically, the more time Logan spent with Marie, the more his thoughts wandered in a distinctly unbrotherly direction. Logan had always been a fairly isolated and antisocial man, but to his surprise he actually enjoyed traveling with Marie. She was smart and interesting to talk to, but she didn't feel the need to chatter all the time. A lot of their time was spent in companionable silence. She had a youthful enthusiasm that was engaging without being grating. Worst of all, as much as he tried to ignore it, there was an unconscious sensuality about her that was making their time in close quarters increasingly uncomfortable for him.
Logan took a deep frustrated breath, but doing so only filled his lungs with that sunshine-and-rain scent of Marie. He punched his pillow and flopped over in aggravation. The slender-but-luscious shape of her that he had barely registered at first was now burned into his brain in every detail. The close confines of the car seemed to accentuate every tempting feature -- the lush swell of her breast, the lean line of her leg, the deep curve of her lower back. The light of laughter in her dark eyes, the scrumptious fullness of her lower lip, how the clear creamy skin of her cheeks flushed with color when she caught him watching her.
He had realized how much it meant to her that he was not afraid to touch her clothed skin casually, and at first his brief touches were simply meant to reassure her of that. Now, though, he was finding it increasingly hard to limit his hands to brief, platonic touches. That guiding hand he placed on her shoulder longed to slide down to explore that delicious curve at the base of her spine. The quick squeeze of his arm around her shoulders took all his restraint to prevent himself from pulling her flush against his body. He thought of the way she brushed her long hair back from her neck when she was concentrating on her maps and guidebooks, and the urge to place sucking bites on that creamy exposed skin overwhelmed him.
He turned over again, kicking in irritation at the sheets as they tangled around his legs. You’re just horny, he told himself. First penned up at the mansion and now traveling with Marie. It’s been too long since the Wolverine has come out to play. He knew it wasn’t that simple, though. The thought of going to some random bar for an easy lay gave him no comfort. It was Marie he wanted. It was Marie he was starting to care for.
He remembered what Marie had said the night he pulled the buckshot from her shoulder. “It’s good to have a friend.” Is that what she was to him? He had female friends. ‘Ro, and Jeannie. He liked to work with them. He sought out their opinions at times. He was even friendly with some of the junior team members -- the firecracker, that quiet Kitty girl. He didn’t feel about them the way he was starting to feel about Marie, though. He didn’t want to spend hours in their company. They didn’t make him laugh like she did. And as much as he liked to flirt with Jeannie to rile Scooter, he didn’t feel this overwhelming compulsion to touch her every time he was near her like he did with Marie.
Goddamn it, he thought. This is getting messy. He was built for stealth, not subterfuge. Xavier was insistent that they establish Marie’s identity before Logan told her about the mansion, in case she ran. And he was right, she was too powerful to be a loose cannon. They needed intel, and maybe even leverage. And yet the longer he put it off, the worse it was going to be. It was very important to Logan now that she agree to come back to the mansion with him. He wanted her close to him. To protect her, he told himself, knowing on some level that wasn’t the whole truth. Dammit he was lying to her, and he was lying to himself. If Logan felt Xavier’s stratagems were putting Marie in danger, it was only a matter of time until he started lying to him too.
Messy, he thought again. Goddamn messy.
________________
Logan lay stretched out in the driver’s seat, soaking up the sun. After an eventful trip to the World’s Largest Ball of Twine (Ever) they had decided to just pick up sandwiches and stretch out in the car for lunch. They had pulled down a sun-dappled side road to park, and both of them had reclined their seats a little. Marie was polishing off the last of the peaches they had bought at a roadside stand while she consulted a map and her trusty guidebook of roadside attractions to choose tomorrow’s adventure.
“What do you think?,” she asked. “We’ll be in Missouri tomorrow. World’s Largest ...ugh, Ball of Human Hair...no thanks. The Grave of Pete Kibble’s Foot..."
“Whazzat?,” Logan asked drowsily. “Just his foot?”
“Apparently so. Says here he lost his foot in a railroad accident and had it buried, intending to join it someday. But then he changed his mind and hopped out West, and never came back. So the foot has its own headstone. Or footstone, I guess.”
Logan snorted. “Keep lookin’.”
“Boathenge. That could be interesting...Stubby Stonehenge...Hilltop Stonehenge Replica...they seem to have a thing for Stonehenge around these parts, huh? Let’s see, Giant Morel Mushroom, Oldest Waterbed Store in the World...”
“You’re scraping the bottom there, darlin’...”
“Oh wait! I think we have a winner!” She bounced a little in her seat, making Logan smile. “World’s Largest Pecan!”
“Why that? You know it’s just going to be some awful thing made out of concrete and chicken wire. Or have you forgotten the World’s Largest Groundhog?”
She made a moue of distaste. “That one was disappointing, I’ll admit. But the World’s Largest Pecan is on an actual pecan farm. Which means pecan pralines, chocolate-covered pecans, maybe even pecan pie!”
He smiled at the excitement in her voice. “Big fan, are you?”
She shot him a sidelong glance through her eyelashes. “Of course! I was born and raised in Mississippi -- I could eat pecan pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and never get tired of it.”
She took a big bite of peach and lay back in her seat, eyes distant, apparently contemplating pecan pies she had known and loved. Logan chuckled.
She turned sideways and looked at him, trying to smother a smile. "Don't laugh. Pecan pie is serious business to Southern girls."
He turned to face her too. "You don't sound like a Southern girl."
"Ah can when Ah want tah," she drawled, making him chuckle again.
"That sounds fake."
She pretended to be grievously offended. "Ev'ry true Suthunah sounds fake!" She switched to her more typical generic American accent. "Nowadays it only really comes out when I'm angry, so you better hope you never hear it."
"I'll keep it in mind." He watched her a moment, the dappled sunlight casting a luminous glow to her auburn and white hair. He reached out and stroked a finger down the lock of white, playing idly with the end of it while she watched him, her eyes deep and unreadable. "Did you always have these?"
She studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether to answer. Finally she shook her head slowly. "Happened about five years ago. Someone tried to hurt me, real bad. Almost killed me, but I got away. Next time I looked in the mirror, the streaks were there. I've tried to dye them, but it won't take."
Something in his chest twisted at the idea of someone hurting her like that. Anger, yes, but also...tenderness? The wish that he had been there to stop it, to protect her. "You must have been so young."
She shrugged. "Seventeen."
The sadness in her eyes pulled at something in him. His hand drifted through her hair again. "Who would want to hurt you," he said, hardly realizing that he was speaking his thoughts aloud.
He leaned forward, barely registering her shocked intake of breath, and then he was kissing her, her lips soft and warm and sweet beneath his. She tasted like peaches and sunshine and sweet grass, and he was greedy for it, licking and nipping at her lips, coaxing her mouth until she opened beneath him. Then he kissed her soft and deep, reveling in the feeling of her relaxing into him, the first tentative slick of her tongue against his, the soft noises she made as he drew her response from her with the gentle slow seduction of his tongue and teeth.
When they were both breathless, he drew back with a final nip, lying back on his seat to gaze at her. Her eyes were wide, color high in her cheeks as she reached up to touch her lips wonderingly. "Why did you do that?"
He took a deep breath, and answered her honestly. "I don't know. I just...wanted to. Been wantin’ to for awhile."
She seemed stunned. "I could have hurt you. My control..."
He smiled. "Felt fine to me."
"But the risk...you shouldn't be so reckless..."
"Look, it was a mistake, okay?" He smothered a smile at her look of disappointment. "Next time I'll ask first."
"Next time?..." she repeated, dazedly.
He levered his seatback upright and started the car. "I already told you I was a careful man," he said, shooting her a sidelong glance as he started the car. He smiled. "But some things are worth the risk."
__________
[text message log:]
Logan to Xavier: I need to tell her.
Xavier to Logan: It is vital that you wait until we have established her identity. We must know more about her in the event that she refuses our offer.
Logan to Xavier: Marie was born and raised in Mississippi, 1989 or 1990. White streaks not present until age 17. Photo attached.
Xavier to Logan: I will have Kitty search birth and school records. This should be very helpful to establish the target's true identity. Good work.
Logan to Xavier: Her name is Marie.
Xavier to Logan: Yes. Of course. Marie. My apologies. Keep in contact.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Y'all are being so generous with reviews, I had to post this chapter extra extra early. :-D I'm anxious to get to Chapters Six and Seven, which are long and action-packed, with lots of answers to y'all's questions. But at least you find out in this chapter which ball of twine they visited. ;-)
Oops, how could I forget, my thanks to the website Roadside America (http://www.roadsideamerica.com/) for the featured roadside attractions. All except the World's Biggest Groundhog, that one is courtesy of a very disappointed six-year-old me. ;-)
Oops, how could I forget, my thanks to the website Roadside America (http://www.roadsideamerica.com/) for the featured roadside attractions. All except the World's Biggest Groundhog, that one is courtesy of a very disappointed six-year-old me. ;-)
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D