It was Theo.
The pot boiled over, blood sizzling in his veins. “Hello, traitor,” Logan snarled into the phone.
An elderly gent on the bench opposite lowered his newspaper and eyed Logan with concern. Logan smiled at him, a wolf’s smile, all teeth. The man abruptly folded his paper over his arm and stood. Wise choice. As Logan watched the man relocate to a seat several benches away, he considered all the things he wanted to say to his best mate. In the end what came out was one question. A single word. “Why?”
“She was going to leave regardless.” Theo’s voice was guarded. “I thought it best she didn’t go alone.”
Had she been so upset then? So mad that she’d wanted to get away from him as fast as possible? Couldn’t even wait the few blasted hours until her ride to the airport arrived? Couldn’t say goodbye? “And you had to be the one to go with her, aye?”
“Bonnie thought it was a good idea.”
Despite himself, Logan laughed. “Oh, Theo,” he groaned, shaking his head, his anger waning. “You poor sot—couldn’t resist the chance to play hero, could you?”
“It was the right thing to do,” Theo countered.
Logan detected the note of defensiveness in his mate’s voice and pressed his advantage. “No, the right thing to do would have been to stand by your friend. Tell him that the girl of his dreams and key to his future was planning to run away, not bloody help her escape.”
Theo ignored the accusation. “I came back to the hotel looking for you. Where did you take off to?”
“King’s Cross.”
Theo sighed. “What time’s your train?”
“Soon.”
“Wait for me,” Theo ordered.
“Why the fuck should I do that?”
“Get stuffed. I’ll be there in ten.”
“That eager for a pounding, are you?” Logan glanced at the departure board. His train would be boarding in fifteen minutes, departing in twenty. What the feck did it matter if he heard the blighter out? “Fine. I’ll be here. Platform six.”
A dozen minutes later Logan spotted Theo’s perfectly coiffed dark head amid the crowd swarming toward the platform. Logan dropped his duffle bag to the ground and straightened, wrapping a hand around the post he’d been leaning on.
Theo approached, eyes wary. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Logan tightened his grip on the post, fingers digging into the wood as he imagined plowing his fist into the turncoat’s face.
Theo must have read the violence in Logan’s stance for he held back a few paces. “I didn’t come here to start a fight.”
“Oh, the fight’s already on, mate.” Logan shifted, trying to release the sharp knot of tension trapped between his shoulder blades. A speaker crackled overhead, announcing that passengers may begin boarding. “If you’ve got something to say, you better say it quick.”
“You shouldn’t be mad at her.”
“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t be,” Logan snapped. There was no question over who the “her” was.
“Fair enough.” Theo reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of paper. “Here.”
“What’s that?”
“You know what this is.” Theo held the crumpled mess out to him.
Logan stiffened, his heart pounding. He dropped his hand from the post but didn’t reach out to take the paper. “Did she give this to you?”
Theo nodded. “She asked me to make sure you got this, said you’d earned it. Said she got what she wanted, so it was only fair you got the same.”
Logan grabbed the paper from Theo’s hand. What the hell did the lass mean by that? What had Cassie wanted? His mind cartwheeled backward and forward. “Did she say anything else?”
When Theo hesitated, Logan surged forward. “You have to tell me.”
“Only…” Theo tensed, and Logan knew whatever his mate was about to say next, he wouldn’t like it, “… that you were a liar. She knew you’d lied about when we checked in to the hotel. And thought you’d lied about a few other things as well.”
“Like what?”
Theo glanced around the nearly empty platform. “The fact your best friend is a duke, for one.”
“That was my fault.” Logan winced. “It slipped out.”
“You don’t say,” Theo grumbled. “Well, I cleared her up on that point, at least. If your ship’s going down, only fair to have it sink under the weight of your own sins.”
“Don’t think that saves you from an ass-kicking.”
“I’m not sorry, Lo. I did what I thought was best.”
The speaker blared, announcing final boarding time. “Aye, I know. You’re a git,” he said, and punched Theo in the arm, “but you’re a good friend too, Theo. And a better man than me.”
“Get on with you. You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.” Theo waved Logan off. “Send Janet my love.”
Logan cringed at the mention of his sister, whom he still hadn’t called back. “Och, speaking of ass-kickings.” He shouldered his bag and saluted Theo, who was chuckling now, before joining the few remaining stragglers scurrying toward the train.
It wasn’t until the train had pulled out of the station and was chugging north at a steady clip that Logan finally worked up the courage to smooth the mangled paper and look at the form.
She’d signed it.
The lass had fecking signed it after all.
CHAPTER 18
IT WAS CLOSING in on ten o’ clock at night when Logan finally made his way across the square and let himself into the Leith studio flat. Janet was curled on the sofa, face lit by the glow of her laptop, a bowl of crisps at her side.
Logan dropped his duffle bag at the door and collapsed next to her.
She leaned over and rumpled his hair. “Welcome back.” She pressed a quick peck to his forehead before returning to her computer.
Logan grabbed the bowl of crisps and dug in. “Theo sends his love,” he mumbled around a mouthful.
“That’s sweet,” Janet said, not looking up from her screen. She slapped Logan’s hand. “Stop eating all my crisps.”
“Too late.” He handed his sister the empty bowl, licking salt from his fingers.
She gave him a look of disgust and set her laptop aside. “Glutton,” she said, crossing to the kitchenette and depositing the bowl in the sink.
“Can you get me a beer while you’re up?” Logan asked, leaning back against the cushions and shooting his sister a coy smile.
“Careful I don’t throw it at your head,” she warned, but the threat lacked heat.
He heard the pop of two caps and a moment later Janet returned, handing him a short-necked bottle of Newcastle. Logan took a deep pull on his beer as she settled back down next to him.
“How was your trip?”
“Fine.” Logan brushed crumbs off his lap.
“Fine? You take off for London with barely a warning, don’t answer a single one of my phone calls or texts—save to tell me you arrived in one piece, thank you very much—and all you can say is fine?”
He took another drink, hiding a grin as his sister’s face puckered in frustration. The interrogation had begun. It was old hat between them. The summer after Da died, Logan would often come home late, well past curfew, and Nettie would demand to know where he’d been, what he’d been doing. Logan always kept his answers brief, avoiding detail whenever possible. It was a prat move, since she was only looking out for him, but he’d been barely seventeen at the time, angry at the world and in no mood to be nice to his nosey parker of a sister.
“Did you find our girl?”
“I did.” Logan tipped the bottle back and chugged the rest. He stood and headed for the kitchen. “You want another?” he asked as he popped the top on his second beer.
“What I want,” Janet said, eyeing him over the rim of her still full bottle, “is to know what the hell happened in London. Second Studios has called twice since you left.”
Logan paused, the f
resh beer halfway to his mouth. “What did you tell them?”
Janet shook her head. “Not a chance. You first. You found the girl. Did she sign the waiver?”
The paper Theo had handed him at the station was in Logan’s back pocket. He resisted the urge to pull it out and instead planted himself on the arm of the sofa. Countless times over the long train ride home, Logan had retrieved the mangled form and stared at Cassie’s signature, wondering what the hell the lass had meant. Wondering what he was going to do next.
A few days ago, the answer would have been obvious. But now, he wasn’t sure. Cassie had given her permission, but did that give him the right? At the castle, she had been dead set against the idea of having her video posted on Shenanigans. And yet, in the end, she’d signed the waiver. Why? He frowned. He was missing something, and he didn’t like it. He needed to talk to her, damn it.
“Well?” Janet set her bottle down and crossed her arms.
“Aye, she signed it,” Logan finally said.
Janet dropped her arms and relaxed against the sofa cushions. “Perfect.” She pulled her laptop close and began typing.
“I’m not sure we should post the video … not yet, I mean.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck. Everything felt stiff, his body tight and tired from long hours on the train, adding to the tension that hadn’t left him since he awoke this morning and found Cassie gone. Christ, had that only been this morning? It felt like a lifetime ago.
“Are you daft?” Janet continued typing. “Second Studios is chomping at the bit. They want to set up a meeting with you. In person. That’s why they’ve been calling.” She looked up from the screen. “We need that video. Scots, kilts, time travel, it’s all super-hot right now with the female eighteen-to-forty-nine demographic.” His sister waggled her eyebrows. “I told you, the ladies are going to eat that shit up. If you weren’t my brother, I’d even think it was hot.”
Logan ran a hand over his face. Janet was right, he knew she was, but it still felt wrong. He needed to think. “I said she signed the waiver, but I’m not entirely sure it’s legal.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Janet stared at him.
Logan stood and pulled the ripped and crumpled waiver from his pocket. “I’m not sure this would stand up, should she decide to challenge it.”
Janet squinted at the line of ink scribbled on the bottom of one scrap. “That’s her signature?”
“Aye.”
“Then what’s the problem? Did she change her mind after she signed it and try to rip it up?”
“No. As I understand it, she crumpled it up before she signed it.”
“Well, what happened? Did you force her to sign it? Threaten her life?”
Logan stared at his sister, not sure if she was serious. “A fine opinion you have of your brother.”
“Piss off.” Janet inspected the mess. “If she signed it, we’re good. A pound note spends the same no matter how grotty it looks.”
“True.” Logan hesitated.
“What is it?” Janet set the papers aside and studied him. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
His sister knew him too well—aside from suggesting he was capable of coercing a girl into signing something against her will. Logan moved to the kitchen and set his second empty beer bottle next to the first. He debated getting a third. How to tell his sister what he couldn’t fully explain to himself?
“Logan Cameron Reid,” she prodded, using his full name and sounding exactly like Mam.
Logan bit the inside of his cheek. He decided to forgo the beer and instead rummaged in the freezer, pulling out a tub of ice cream. He nicked two spoons from the drawer and joined his sister on the sofa.
She took a spoon, parrying his out of the way and scoring the first scoop for herself. “Talk,” she ordered.
Icy crystals clung to the container, stinging his palm. He rubbed his thumb across the side, melting the frost. “Remember how mad the lass had been about the video? How she was dead set against letting us post it?”
Janet took another spoonful of ice cream. “Mm-hmm. Glad to see your charm hasn’t lost any of its persuasive power.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Logan scraped his spoon across the surface of the ice cream, working at a piece of chocolate. “It’s a long story, but before we move forward with the video, I’d like to talk to Cassie first.”
“Then call her.” Janet waved her spoon in the air.
The bit of frozen chocolate came loose and Logan scooped it up, letting it melt on his tongue. The taste brought him back to the morning before, in the car on the way to Stratford, eating a piece of the giant chocolate bar Cassie’s friend had shared. Did everything have to remind him of her? Something deep in his chest shifted—a heaviness that wasn’t heavy at all.
“I’m not sure what time her flight gets in,” he said and dug his spoon into the carton again, seeking more chocolate. “I’m not even sure what time zone she is in.”
Janet paused, spoon hovering at her lips. “Wait. You don’t know where she lives?”
He shook his head and poked harder at the ice cream.
“Her name is Cassie, right? Cassie Cardinal?” Janet dropped her spoon and turned her attention to her laptop.
“Cassie Crow.” Logan dug out another chunk of chocolate.
“Cassie Crow, right,” Janet muttered, her fingers flying over the keys. Seconds later, she whooped in triumph.
“What?” Logan tightened his grip on the ice cream. Janet rarely smiled, and when she did, it usually meant trouble, and usually for him. Right now her face was wreathed in a Cheshire Cat grin of epic proportions.
“Have I told you how fond I am of image search?” Janet tilted her laptop toward Logan. A picture of Cassie’s face smiled back at him.
He squinted at the screen, trying to identify the city skyline behind her. After a moment, he recognized the bright round circle of light on the horizon, and everything snapped into place. The London Eye had reminded her friend of home—like the Ferris wheel at Chicago’s Navy Pier.
Chicago. Where Second Studios was located. A shiver passed through Logan, a prickling of anticipation or apprehension—or both. Either way, the coincidence was unnerving.
Oblivious to his discomfort, Janet turned the laptop back her way and started typing again. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
“Aye, that’s definitely her,” Logan said.
“Oh, this is too perfect.” Nettie tugged the tub out his hands.
Appetite gone, Logan gave up the ice cream without a fight. “What’s perfect?”
“You want to talk to Cassie. Second Studios wants to talk to you. Both are in Chicago.”
Well, hell. “Wanna come with me?” Logan asked, regaining his composure.
“Nah, this is your party. They want to see the face of Shenanigans, not the brains.” Janet smirked. “Besides, one of us needs to hold down the fort. Check on Mam and such.”
A surge of guilt cut Logan off at the knees. In his typical selfish fashion, in all his plotting and scheming to land the telly deal stateside, he hadn’t spared a moment’s thought for what they’d do about Mam if the plan was successful.
“Wipe that look off yer face.”
“What look?”
“The look that says, ‘I’m a horrible son and deserve to be drawn and quartered.’” Janet shook her head. “Mam’s going to be so proud of you.”
“Aye, sure,” Logan agreed reluctantly. “But what about Da?”
Nettie’s face softened. “He’d be proud too, Lo. You must know that.”
Logan didn’t know any such thing. He desperately wanted to believe his sister, but the self-doubt was too strong. The familiar fear and vulnerability eating away at him, leaving a hole he couldn’t seem to fill. He hated it.
As if sensing his discomfort, Nettie’s rare moment of sweetness passed. “Stop stewing and go pack, ye fouter.” She pushed him off the couch, back to her usual tart self. “I’ve got an important mee
ting to arrange.”
CHAPTER 19
“HEY, MOM.” CASSIE shifted the phone to her other ear and opened her closet.
“Cassie! You’re home!”
“Yep. My flight got in last night.” She filed through the row of hangers, determined to look as professional as possible for her meeting tomorrow.
“Oh my goodness, tell me everything. What was your favorite part?”
Getting it on with a sexy Scot? Cassie cleared her throat. “It was all great, really. So much fun. Lots of memories.”
“I’m glad, dear. I know how long you’ve been planning that trip. Did Bonnie enjoy herself too?”
“Oh yeah. Loved it.” Cassie pulled out a couple of outfits and tossed them on her bed. “But she’s glad to be home with Gabe.”
“Has she finally set a date for her wedding?”
“Um … I’m not sure.” Cassie quickly changed the subject. “How’s Dad?”
“Oh, that man.” Cassie grinned at her mom’s familiar refrain, colored with fond irritation. “He’s off checking on all his gardens. The migration season is starting, you know.”
“Right, I forgot.” An entomologist, Cassie’s father had always been more at home with bugs than people. “I guess that means school is starting soon for you too.” Cassie dug around the floor of her closet for her favorite pair of work heels.
“Oh goodness, are you kidding? We’ve been back in session for two weeks already.” Her mother was the principal of a small charter school near their home in the northern suburbs. Cassie had always felt equal parts sad and relieved she’d graduated from middle school before the charter opened. Her mom’s school was amazing and did some really cool things, but gah—to have your mom be your principal. Like junior high wasn’t awkward enough.
“Oh, yeah.” Cassie kept forgetting that while the city schools didn’t go back until after Labor Day, most suburban schools started in late August, and the charter schools often began even earlier.
“Have you been taking vitamin B” her mother asked.
“What? Why?”
“I’m worried about your memory.”
Getting Hot with the Scot--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 19