Page 39 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

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Helena hovered around Logan, a row of pins clamped in her lined mouth.

“Who’s the girl?”

Barring his mother, Helena was the only woman who ever spoke to him so directly. He considered it a curse with age; the older a person got, the less they worried about such small things as boundaries.

“No one. She’s just looking after the dog.”

“Hmmm,” Helena replied. “She’s very attractive for a pet sitter.”

“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

“There are lots of things that are wrong with you, Logan, but your eyes have never been one of them.”

Logan had to quell the sigh of exasperation the conversation was causing. “She’s just someone I’m helping out. There’s nothing more to it.”

But Helena was like a stubborn dog who wouldn’t let go.

“Why does she have all those scratches? On her arms. She’s tried to cover them with that top she’s wearing, but I saw them anyway. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Logan gave her a level stare. “I don’t know.”

She hissed out her own sigh as she folded a section of the shirt he was wearing and pinned it in place.

“You know I love you, but just don’t hurt her. She seems like a nice girl. Nothing at all like your usual type.”

At that, Logan took offence. “Firstly, I like nice girls…”

To which Helena issued another of her snorts.

“And secondly, there is nothing going on!”

Helena shook her head at him. “The fact that you don’t know how appealing you are, only makes you more appealing.”

Logan threw up his hands.

“You missed your calling, you know. Forget costume designer, a fairground fortune teller spouting nonsense is what you should have been.”

Helena peered down her long, fake lashes at him. “You may protest now, but I’ve known you for far too long. Be careful, if not for her sake.”

Jane had been outside,playing with the puppy in the sun for another half an hour or so, when an older man approached with a warm smile.

A camera was slung around his neck and there was some form of identification pinned to the breast pocket of his blue shirt. Even from where she sat on the grass, Jane could read the bold red print of the press badge.

The photographer who seemed to be in his fifties, sipped from a cup of coffee before he spoke to her in a rich, velvety voice that put her instantly at ease. “Excuse me, I believe you are Jane, correct?”

Jane nodded. “Yes?”

“I’m Karsten,” he replied swigging down the rest of his coffee. He tossed the empty cup into a nearby trashcan. “I work for the studio recording behind-the-scenes footage. I’ve got an appointment with Logan for some pictures, and I’d really like to grab some of him with that cute little guy over there,” he said, bending down to give Loki a big grin.

Loki barked his own welcome and ran toward the arms Karsten had opened for him.

“Where did you want to do the pictures?” Jane asked, wishing she had more of an idea of how these things work. Were they supposed to stage a play session out here? She felt uncertain, stupid. How could she not know something so simple? More importantly, why hadn’t she asked Logan before she’d left?

“We’re to bring the puppy to Logan. Apparently, his costume’s just about finished, so this will be a great chance for us to see them in action. People will lap it up, the movie star and his dog. Adele sure knows what she’s doing,” he added begrudgingly.

Jane got up from the grass and dusted herself off. “Adele? I don’t think I’ve met her yet.” It hadn’t escaped her notice that Logan seemed surrounded by women.

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