Nicholas Sparks - The Lucky One

The guy was a walking nightmare. Like his sole intent was to ruin Clayton's life.

Well, that wasn't going to happen, either, was it?

He'd learned quite a bit about Thigh-bolt in the last week. Not only that he worked at the kennel-what were the odds on that, by the way?-but that he lived in a ramshackle dump near the forest. And after making a few official-sounding calls to law enforcement in Colorado, professional courtesy did the rest. He learned that Thigh-bolt had graduated from the University of Colorado. And that he'd been a marine, served in Iraq, and received a couple of commendations. But most interesting, that a couple of guys in his platoon spoke about him as though he'd made some sort of deal with the devil to stay alive.

He wondered what Beth would think of that.

He didn't believe it. He'd met enough marines to know most of them were as smart as rocks. But something fishy was definitely going on with the guy if his fellow marines didn't quite trust him.

And why walk across the country and stop here? The guy knew no one in town, and from the sound of things, he'd never been here before. Something fishy about that, too. More than that, he couldn't escape the feeling that the answer was staring him in the face, but he couldn't figure it out. He would. He always did.

Clayton continued to stare at the house, thinking it was time he finally dealt with the guy. Not now, though. Not tonight. Not with the dog around. Next week, maybe. When Thigh-bolt was at work.

See, that was the difference between him and other people. Most people lived their lives like criminals: act first, worry about the consequences later. Not Keith Clayton. He thought things through beforehand. He planned. He anticipated. Which was the main reason he'd done nothing so far, even when he'd seen the two of them pull up tonight, even though he knew what was going on in the house, even as he'd watched Beth walk back outside, her face flushed and hair all wild. In the end, he knew, this was about power, and right now, Thigh-bolt had the power. Because of the disk. The disk with photos that might cut off the flow of money to Clayton.

But power was nothing if it wasn't used. And Thigh-bolt hadn't used it. Which meant that Thigh-bolt either didn't realize what he had, or had gotten rid of the disk, or was the kind of guy who generally minded his own business.

Or maybe all three.

Clayton had to make sure. First things first, so to speak. Which meant he had to look for the disk. If the guy still had it, he'd find it and destroy it. Power would shift back to Clayton, and Thigh-bolt would get what was coming to him. And if Thigh-bolt had gotten rid of the disk soon after finding it? Even better. He'd handle Thigh-bolt, and things would start getting back to normal with him and Beth. That was the most important thing.

Damn, she'd looked good walking out of that house. There Was something hot and sexy about seeing her and knowing what she'd done, even if it had been with Thigh-bolt. It had been a long time since she'd had a man, and she seemed… different. More than that, he knew that after tonight, she'd surely be ready for more

That friends with benefits thing was looking better all the time.

Beth

I take it you had a good time," Nana drawled.

It was Sunday morning, and Beth had just stumbled down to the kitchen table. Ben was still sleeping upstairs.

"We did," she said, yawning.

"And?"

"And… nothing."

"You got in kind of late, considering you did nothing."

"It wasn't that late. See? I'm up bright and early." She poked her head into the refrigerator, then closed the door without removing anything. "That would be impossible if I got in too late. And why are you so curious?"

"I just want to know if I'll still have an employee on Monday." Nana poured herself a cup of coffee and collapsed into a chair at the table.

"I don't see why you wouldn't."

"So it went well?"

This time, Beth let the question hang for a moment as she remembered the evening. Stirring her coffee, she felt happier than she had in a long time. "Yeah," she offered. "It went well."

During the next few days, Beth spent as much time with Logan as she could, without making it seem too obvious to Ben. She wasn't sure why that felt important. It did seem consistent with the kind of advice family counselors would offer about the realities of dating when children were involved. But deep down, she knew that wasn't the entire reason. There was just something exciting about maintaining the pretense that nothing had changed between them; it gave the relationship an illicit feeling, almost like an affair.

It didn't fool Nana, of course. Every now and then while Beth and Logan were engaged in keeping up their elaborate facade, Nana would mutter something nonsensical like "camels in the Sahara" or "it's like hair and slippers." Later, with Logan, Beth would try to make sense of her mutterings. The first seemed to imply they were meant to be together; the second took a little longer to figure out, and she was stumped until Logan shrugged and suggested, "Maybe it has something to do with 'Rapunzel' and 'Cinderella'?"

Fairy tales. But good ones, with happily-ever-after endings. Nana being sweet without revealing herself as a softie.

Those stolen moments when they were alone had an almost dreamlike intensity. Beth was hyperattuned to his every movement and gesture, tantalized by the quiet way he'd take her hand as they trailed behind Ben on their evening walks, then release it as soon as Ben rounded into view again. Logan had a sixth sense about how far away Ben had wandered-a skill developed, she guessed, in the military-and she was grateful that her desire to fly under the radar for now didn't bother him in the slightest.

To her relief, Logan continued to treat Ben exactly as he had before. On Monday, he showed up with a small bow-and-arrow set he'd picked up at the sporting goods store. He and Ben spent an hour shooting at targets, time that was mainly used searching for wayward shots that ended up in prickly holly bushes or snagged in tree branches, leaving them both with scratches up to their elbows.

After dinner, they ended up playing chess in the living room while she and Nana cleaned up the kitchen. As she dried the dishes, she concluded that if for no other reason, she could love Logan forever simply because of the way he treated her son.

Despite maintaining a low profile, they still found excuses to be alone together. On Tuesday, when she got home from school, she noticed that with Nana's permission, he'd installed a porch swing so "we don't have to sit on the steps." While Ben was at his music lesson, she reveled in the slow, steady motion of the swing as she sat beside him. On Wednesday, she rode with him to town to pick up another load of dog food. Everyday activities, but simply being alone with him was enough. Sometimes when they were in the truck together, he'd put his arm around her and she'd lean into him, savoring how good it felt.

She thought about him while she worked, imagining what he was doing or wondering what he and Nana were talking about. She pictured the way his shirt would tack against his skin with perspiration or his forearms would flex as he trained the dogs. On Thursday morning, as Logan and Zeus walked up the drive to begin work, she turned from the window in the kitchen. Nana was at the table, slowly working her way into her rubber boots, a challenge made more difficult by the weakness in her arm. Beth cleared her throat.

"Is it okay if Logan takes the day off?" she asked. Nana didn't bother to hide the smirk on her face. "Why?"

"I want to get away with him today. Just the two of us."

"What about school?"