It was only his phone going off again that pulled us apart.
“You have to go.”
“I don’t want to. I want to stay and bask in this.”
I gently shoved at him. “We have lots of time to bask. Go do what you have to.”
He backed toward the door, his whiskey eyes focused on me. “I love you.”
I smiled. “I love you, Logan.”
He smiled back, his dimple popping. He laid his hand over his heart, the gesture reminding me of the first night we actually spoke. Even then, I was half in love with him. “Those are the sweetest words I have ever heard. Thank you.”
Then he was gone.
Chapter 17
Lottie
The next couple of weeks were busy for us both. Logan was teaching every day, preparing lesson plans and grading papers. Despite the projects I was working on being simpler than usual, I was still busy with investors, meetings, and making sure everyone was happy. My team was smaller, so we all had to work extra hard. Most nights, it was past eight when I left the building. Logan was rarely at the platform, although a few times, he met me there. But I gave him a key to my place, so often when I walked in, he was sitting at the table, working away. He always stopped to kiss me hello, make sure I ate, and at some point, sang to me. The nights he was absent, my place felt empty. My bed seemed too big, and I didn’t sleep as well.
I wrapped up the deal with Ravaged Records and Roadside quickly. The investors I had in mind were enthusiastic and generous. The final papers were being drafted for signatures and a press conference being planned. I was both pleased and sad. It had been a fun project, unlike most of them. I liked the people I was working with and was passionate about their ideas.
It took everything in me not to question Carmen about his meetings with Logan. They were both tight-lipped on what they were discussing, and I had to keep a professional distance. I knew when Logan was ready, he would tell me. He was juggling a lot right now, and I didn’t want to waste the time we did have together trying to pull something out of him he wasn’t ready to share.
I finally gave in and called my mother. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable. I was going to have to apologize in order for us to move forward. My father was distant and chillier than usual. When I closed the Ravaged deal, there were no pats on the back or words of appreciation for a job well done. Another project appeared on my desk, and that was all. It was his way of letting me know I had performed satisfactorily and he would trust me with another venture. Part of me hoped for something personal from him. That he would walk into my office and say something positive—anything—to open the door between us, but it didn’t happen. I wasn’t sure why I still wanted and hoped, but my silly heart did. I wondered if I made up with my mother if he would soften, so I reached out.
She was cool on the phone but agreed to meet me for lunch. I studied her as I sat across from her at her favorite place. I only ever went there with her, neither the food nor the stuffy décor my style.
She sipped her mineral water in silence. She had accepted my kiss on the cheek but hadn’t offered anything aside from a stiff greeting. I withheld my impatience and smiled at her.
“You look lovely today, Mom.”
She patted her hair. “I have a new stylist.”
“Very flattering.” Sadly, I recalled the days when she would jokingly complain about barely getting a shower in. When her idea of being fancy was blow-drying her hair and having a fresh blouse on when my father came home. My father calling out for his “Jo-Jo” when he walked through the doorway. The days when the evenings were spent laughing around the dinner table, making plans for the weekends as a family, and my world consisted of the love of the people at the table with me. Those times were long gone. My mom, Jo-Jo, slowly disappeared, and the distant woman, Josephine Prescott, firmly took hold.
“You look well,” she stated. “Is the office better?”
“I’ve been very productive.”
She raised her eyebrows slightly. I was sure my father described my job status somewhat differently.
We made small talk, the words stilted and uncomfortable.
“I heard from Brianna’s mother that she is seeing someone. A business owner, I believe?”
My lips quirked. I doubted my mother would be so interested if she knew Trevor owned a gym and he was friends with Logan. So I made a humming sound of agreement.
I set down my glass and straightened my shoulders. “Mom, I’m sorry I upset you. Can we please make up and move past it?” I offered her a shaky smile, finding this harder than I expected. “I miss you.”
Sadness filled her expression for a moment, then she frowned. “You were ungrateful and disrespectful to your father. More than once.”
I swallowed down my retort. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but he overstepped.”
“Are you still seeing that boy? Your father says he is a delinquent.”
I bit back my anger. She made it sound as if I were dating a kid from the hood. “Logan is not a boy, nor is he a delinquent. He is an adult with a full-time job and very respectful. Dad didn’t even give him a chance to introduce himself. He wrote him off because he had longer hair. Dad judged him on his own personal bias, not his character.”
“He says he is distracting you from your work.”
I disagreed. “You know I was struggling before I even met Logan. If anything, he has helped me focus on what is really important.”
It was true. I simply didn’t tell her what I was focusing on mattered more than mergers and the boardroom deals that my father obsessed about.
“He’s after your money.”
I gaped at her. “What money?”
“The money you will get when your father and I pass.”
I had to roll my eyes. “Since neither you nor Dad is ill, are both relatively young and healthy, I guess he has a very long wait. I highly doubt he targeted me on the off chance I’d come into money one day.” I was quiet as the waiter slipped our organic salads in front of us, then departed. “I’m a little insulted you would think that is the only reason any man would be interested in me.”
She pursed her lips. “Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”
I sighed. “He cares about me, Mom. He really cares. He treats me so well…” I trailed off as I realized how close to tears I was. Surprised, I cleared my throat. I rarely got emotional. “He is wonderful,” I finished.
“He’s a teacher.”
“An honest job.”
“Can he support you?”
“I support myself,” I reminded her softly. “He makes me so happy. Shouldn’t that be more important than his bank account?”
I thought of the few men I had dated. One guy at university. He was my first crush, and it ran its course. We parted friends and moved on. I had gone on a few dates, even suffered through some dinners with my parents and men I knew they were trying to push because they were acceptable—to them. They all bored me. I was already surrounded by suits and business talk all day. I had no desire for that to carry over into my personal life. My father had even tried pushing a couple of his higher-up staff my way. They were only too happy to make a run at the boss’s daughter. I was horrified when I found out, and the one date I had agreed to go on before I found out why was a disaster. He was a younger version of my father, and I saw my life mapped out with him. Dull, predictable, and mind-numbing. I couldn’t imagine a future with him. With any of them. But I could with Logan.
She was silent, stabbing her salad as if it had somehow offended her. I ate mine, wishing for some creamy ranch instead of the kiss of oil and vinegar on top of it. I wondered about asking for some bread, then decided against it.
“We need to meet him,” my mother announced.
My fork froze partway to my mouth. I blinked and ate the bite of salad, chewing carefully.
“Will you be polite?”
She glared.
“I mean it. Will you give him a chance?” I reached o
ut my hand. “Please, Mom. He is important to me.”
Again, I was sure I saw a softening in her eyes. Thought she was about to say something significant. But she only cleared her throat. “How important?”
“Extremely.”
“Brunch. Sunday. You will bring him.”
“I will ask. I’ll call you later and let you know.”
She seemed to relax, and the rest of the lunch went fine. My mom told me all the gossip and news in her world. None of it had anything to do with me and she asked me very few questions, but at least she was talking to me. I was surprised when she kissed my cheek before getting into her town car. “Call me this evening, Lottie. Let me know about Sunday.” She paused. “Is the boy allergic to anything?”
“No. The boy is a very good eater,” I deadpanned.
She didn’t get the joke, simply nodding and sliding into the car. “That makes it easier.”
I watched her car leave, then turned and headed back to the office, wondering how Logan was going to take the invite.
Would he accept it or simply tell me no? He wasn’t a big fan of my parents, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he decided he didn’t want to meet them at his point.
But he did surprise me.
“What time?” he asked, rubbing his chin, gazing at me across the table. He’d had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup waiting when I got home, welcoming me with a kiss and a warm hug.
“Usually eleven.”
“Do I have to be in a suit?”
I shook my head. “A nice shirt and pants would be appreciated.”
He tilted his head. “By your mother or you?”
I grinned. He wore business casual clothes every day to teach in, and he often had his hair pulled back. He was still sexy, although his rough edge was softened. “Those black pants hug your ass pretty nice.” I winked.
He chuckled and polished off yet another sandwich. “Okay. I can do civilized another day.”
“Really?”
He smiled and took our empty plates to the kitchen. He came back and slid into the seat beside me. “They’re your parents, Lottie. I want to meet them. I will show them respect as long as they do the same in return.” He ran his finger over my cheek. “My father instilled manners into me. I can behave.”
“I have no objections to your manners. “
He leaned forward, kissing me. “Outside the bedroom, anyway.”
I giggled as he waggled his eyebrows. When it came to sex, he was extremely bossy and dominating in the bedroom. The bathroom. Against the wall or in the kitchen. Aggressive and dirty-talking. Yet there was an underlying gentleness with me I wasn’t sure even he was aware of.
“I like those manners too, but maybe curb those instincts while we’re eating with my parents.”
“I can do that. I’ll use a fork, not pick my teeth, and I won’t talk about how sexy you are and how much I like to fuck you.”
I threw him a look which made him smirk.
“I’ll try not to steal anything either. I’ll wait the thirty or forty years for your inheritance. I’m patient.”
I groaned. I shouldn’t have been so honest with him about what my mother said. He’d found it vastly amusing and had laughed hard.
“Please, Logan.” I took his hand. “I’ve never brought anyone to meet them before who meant so much to me. I just want you to get along. For my sake.”
He became serious. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Lottie. I’ll be on my best behavior. Do you think they’ll offer me the same respect?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’d like to think so.”
He shrugged. “It will all be fine. It’s brunch. What can possibly happen over coffee and breakfast foods served late? They’ll ask questions, I’ll respond. I’ll eat whatever they put in front of me and be polite. It’ll be great.”
He stood. “I have to get going. I have an early morning meeting, and I still have papers to grade.” He bent and kissed me. “I just wanted a little time with you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He paused at the door. “Don’t worry about Sunday, Lottie. It’s all good.”
He left, and I stared at the door, wondering if either of us really believed that.
Sunday morning, I was tired and listless. Logan had spent the night on Friday, but we’d both had commitments on Saturday, and by the time he called later that evening, I was in bed with a headache and feeling exhausted. I didn’t sleep well, my dreams filled with odd images that kept disturbing me. When I got up on Sunday, I wondered how much of it had to do with my nerves about brunch and the dread I could feel in my stomach at the thought of how my parents would treat Logan. Part of me wanted to cancel, but I knew that was a bad idea.
Logan arrived before nine, knocking when he arrived. I bit back my amusement—he only used his key when I wasn’t home. Otherwise, he knocked and waited. I opened the door, not prepared for what I found. He stood tall and sexy in the doorway, wearing a navy overcoat. His hair was shorter, brushed back from his face, the bleached ends gone, leaving it dark and gleaming. His beard had disappeared, just a light dusting of scruff left along his jaw and chin. He smiled at me, his eyes warm. He bent low and kissed me, moving into the condo and lifting one eyebrow at my startled expression.
He slipped off his coat and laid it over the sofa, lifting his arms. “Will I pass?”
His subtle patterned button-down was tucked into my favorite black dress pants. He had the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. There wasn’t a single leather cuff on his wrist. Only one silver ring was on his hand.
I didn’t know how to take it. He looked like Logan, but a sleeker, more professional version. Polished and shiny. Staged to make an impression.
For me.
It hit me he had done this for me. To make the brunch easier. My parents couldn’t glare at his long hair or rocker-style look if it wasn’t there. He wasn’t in a suit and tie and oozing money, but he was every inch a confident, vital man. Still a little dangerous and sexy, but it was more subtle. A glossy veneer meant to defuse my parents’ ire.
Tears threatened, the way they seemed to do these days, always close to the surface. Once again, he had shown how much he cared by trying to make things easier for me.
Logan frowned, stepping forward. “Lottie, sweetheart, what is it? You hate the shirt?” He looked down. “Trev said the white one looked too formal. I can go change it.”
I wiped my eyes. “You look great. Amazing.” I paused. “Respectable.” My voice broke a little. “You-you cut your hair.”
He wrapped his hands around my arms, pulling me close. “Is that what’s upsetting you? My hair?”
“I don’t expect you to change for me—to impress my parents.”
He kissed my forehead. “I didn’t do it for them, Lottie. Honest,” he assured me. “It was time for a trim. Gretch did it last night and trimmed my beard. I needed to do it for school.” He smiled down at me, teasing my chin with his long fingers. “Think about it. When I first started playing for you, my hair was shorter—not this short, but close. I let it grow over the fall. I got lazy and didn’t cut it.”
“Okay,” I sniffled. “But your cuffs…and stuff?”
He held me tighter. “I love that you notice everything about me. I never wear them at work either. Just my dad’s ring. I never take that off. Really, Lottie, this is just another side of me. I promise not to turn preppy or, what did you call me earlier? Respectable. I’m still me. Just cleaned up a little. I promise to ravish you thoroughly later and prove it.”
I sighed and let his scent wash over me, calming me. He was warm and solid, his embrace comforting. My nerves eased, and the leaden feeling in my stomach loosened.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly.
I peered up, meeting his whiskey-colored gaze. “Are you all right, Lottie? You seem off today. Are you that nervous?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. I was just…” I trailed off, unable to explain. “I never want you to think y
ou have to change for me. I love you exactly the way you are.”
“I know. I adore the way you look at me. I admit, last night, it was Gretch’s suggestion to cut my hair, but she has been bugging me about it for a while. It’ll make my boss happier too. Although she has been great, I’m sure it will go over big with her as well. Parents do like the people who teach their kids to be presentable.” He kissed the end of my nose, his voice becoming playful. “Aren’t I sexy anymore, Lottie?”
“Of course you are.”
“Then it’s all good. Some days I’ll be your rockerish bad boy, and others I’ll be the respectable teacher.” He slid his hands down, cupping my ass. “Both sides love you.”
I had to chuckle. He lowered his head and kissed me. It was long, deep, and soul-shattering. It set my heart soaring, elated and calmed me, all at once.
He eased back, dropping three gentle pecks to my lips. “Okay, baby. We need to go, or we’ll be late. I don’t want any more strikes against me.”
He shrugged on his overcoat, and I slipped the top button closed. “I like this.”
He winked. “It’s Trev’s. I borrowed it to keep with the image, but if you like it, I’ll buy one. I have to admit, it’s warmer than my leather jacket.”
“I do like it. It shows off your broad shoulders. It’s sexy on you.”
He flexed and rolled his head. “Then we’ll go shopping this week.” He helped me on with my coat. “And you look lovely, by the way. Very pretty today. I love you in blue—it brings out your eyes.”
His words warmed me. I was wearing one of my favorite weekend outfits. A bright blue tunic with a deep cowl neck and gray leggings I tucked into boots. I wore my hair up, and I had a heavy silver chain Brianna had given me cinched around my waist. “Thank you.”
He looked pleased as he brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “You always blush when I compliment you.”
“I’m not used to it,” I admitted.
He pressed his lips to my cheek. “Then I’ll keep doing it until you are.”
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