“I’m bored.”
This Logan could relate to. There was only so much time one could spend alone with one’s thoughts without going crazy.
“What about you?” he asked when the silence stretched. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m the CEO of Rutledge Enterprises.”
Logan hummed, a little surprised. He had thought the guy must have been a trust-fund baby—but then again, he could well be. “Family company?”
Andrew snorted. “It belonged to Vivian’s father, but the old bastard was still stuck in the nineteenth century and left the majority of the company to his son. Misogynistic ass. Vivian got just ten percent of the company’s shares.”
There was a great deal of bitterness in Andrew’s voice, but to Logan’s surprise and relief, he no longer sounded wretched every time his wife was mentioned. Maybe he was finally moving on from his grief. Good. A moping Andrew was insufferable. More insufferable than he normally was.
“Sore subject?” Logan said.
Andrew laughed. “I’ve slaved for that company since I was twenty, but apparently leaving the company to a son who knows nothing about the business made more sense than leaving it to someone who actually knows how to manage it.”
“Aren’t you the CEO?”
“Yes, but I still answer to Derek Rutledge. It’s not the same.”
Logan did the math in his head. So Andrew worked for the company since he was twenty. If he and his wife had been married for nine years…
“So you married the boss’s daughter?”
He could feel Andrew’s glare on him even despite the dark. “If you’re implying I married her in order to get promoted—”
“Not implying anything.”
After a lengthy silence, Andrew sighed. “I guess she did attract my attention because she was the boss’s daughter, but it became more than that soon enough.” His tone turned wistful, softer. “She was… She was so lovely and kind and…”
He trailed off, but Logan could guess what he meant. He hadn’t really thought the guy was a fortune hunter. His affection for his wife had clearly been genuine; Logan would him give that.
“Everyone still thought I was a fortune hunter,” Andrew said, as if reading his thoughts. He chuckled. “I was a nobody, and she was an heiress of one of the richest families in the country. The old Rutledge despised me but had to tolerate me, because he’d already lost his only son over his choice of bed partners, and he couldn’t afford to lose his only daughter over her choice of a husband.”
Logan made a face. He knew men like that: old money, too set in their old ways. He could only imagine how a pompous ass like that would react to getting an upstart for a son-in-law. It almost made him feel sorry for Andrew. Almost. Sucking up to such an asshole of a father-in-law for years and in the end not even inheriting the family company would have made anyone pissed off and bitter.
“Now you being a dick makes a little bit more sense,” Logan said wryly. “A little bit.”
“Fuck off,” Andrew said, but it lacked any heat. He always was quieter at night. Not as brash as he was during the day. More like a person.
It was… unsettling. Logan actually preferred the obnoxious dick he’d first met. He knew how to deal with the spiteful little bigot Andrew was ninety percent of the time. This quiet, lonely guy was another matter entirely.
It messed with Logan’s head. Coupled with the looks Andrew had been giving him lately, it had the potential for disaster.
***
They ran out of matches on the forty-sixth day.
“What are we going to do?” Andrew said, his voice cracking a little.
Logan looked at him. Sometimes he marveled over how much the guy had changed over the past month and a half. It wasn’t that Andrew had suddenly become a nice human being. No. He was still whiny and bitchy, and he still kept dropping snide remarks from time to time, but gone was the arrogant man who’d sneered at him from across the aisle. Those large, blue-green eyes were full of fear and uncertainty now—and something that looked an awful lot like the need for reassurance.
Why are you looking at me like this, damn you?
“We’ll try starting a fire without matches,” Logan said, turning away so he didn’t have to look into those uncertain eyes.
“Right,” Andrew said. “If cavemen could do it, surely it isn’t that difficult, right?”
Fuck, he really was seeking reassurance from him.
Grimacing, Logan ran a hand over his scruffy face.
“Right,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get on with it.”
***
Creating fire without matches was easier said than done. Even if they managed to get a spark, making fire out of that spark was another matter entirely. Dry firewood was sparse—the island’s micro-climate was too humid. On the rare occasion that they got the fire going, sudden showers could destroy all their efforts. It didn’t help that there were no caves on the island, nothing that could serve as a natural shelter from rain.