by Penny Wylder
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I put enough venom into my voice that he raises his eyebrows and smiles an annoying little smile, like he knows something that I don’t. And despite my fury, my traitorous body wants to lean toward that smile. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” I say to Thomas, “I need to speak to my father privately.”
Marching away, I push through the door into my father’s crowded little office. I don’t check to see if he’s following—I know he will. I wait. He comes through the door and the room is so small that we’re practically nose-to-nose.
“Dad, what the hell were you thinking? The Logan brothers are bad enough, but their father isn’t a good guy. As far as I know, he’s not the kind of guy that would trade a loan for violence, but he has no problem destroying people’s livelihoods. They don’t call them loan sharks for nothing.
My dad doesn’t say anything, just stands there looking lost and exhausted. I know he’s under a lot of stress and having me standing here wagging a finger at him isn’t helping, but I’m just so angry that I can’t help myself.
“So,” I say, “this is why I’m here, to help you get out of debt to our town’s biggest loan shark.”
“Rosie, don’t be like that. I really do want to see you too. It’s been a long time since I’ve had my girls at home.”
“Dad…” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “How bad is this? Really?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I needed the money to start the business, and after everything…” He trails off, and I know he’s talking about his other business ideas that crashed and burned. “The banks wouldn’t lend anything to me. I took the lowest loan I thought I could get away with. I figured there was no way I’d have trouble paying it off. But business really hasn’t been as good as I was hoping. And now if I don’t make it happen in two weeks, they’ll take the bakery. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just didn’t want to disappoint you again. Thomas was here to see if we could make a deal. I asked him to talk to his father about extending the loan. He’s the nicest of them, and I—” He swallows. “It’s bad…You’ve been so good to me, Rosie, and I was just hoping…”
“Two weeks? You’re going to lose the bakery two weeks?” My stomach plummets to the floor, and I take a deep breath, scrubbing my hands across my face. I keep myself outwardly calm, but inside I’m freaking out. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
He looks smaller, like he’s lost his light, and I hate that. It’s been years since we lost Mom but he never really recovered from it. He even named the bakery after her, Lola’s, although Mom wasn’t much of a Betty Crocker. God, I miss her. I’m tired of fixing things, but I hope I’m actually able to fix this.
I point toward the front of the bakery where Thomas Logan waits, probably laughing at me. “And you think he wants to help you?”
My dad shrugs. “I don’t know if he wants to, but he was at least willing to listen.”
“Okay.” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I’m here to help him. I have to remember that. And I also have to remember that I love him even though I want to throttle him right now. If Thomas is actually willing to listen, then I probably don’t want to piss him off too much—any more than I already have, anyway.
“I’ll talk to him,” I say, even though I know the look on his face is going to be fucking insufferable.
Fumbling through papers on his desk, Dad finds a business card and hands it to me. “There’s his number.”
I huff a laugh. “He’s right out there. I’ll try that route first.”
“Thank you.” He deflates. “I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, holding back the sigh that’s threatening to come out. “We’ll get it figured out.”
I push past my father and back into the main bakery. Thomas is standing there looking far too self-satisfied. His hands are in his pockets, and I swear it’s not fair how attractive he is. If he weren’t…him, I’d have agreed to drinks in half a second.
“Fine,” I say. “I will go to drinks with you.” A smug grin appears on his face, and I have the urge to slap it off. “I’m only going because my father is in trouble and you—out of all the people in the universe—seem to be the person who can help him.”
“Understood.” He glances at my hand. “I see you have my card already, so you get settled in and text me when you’re ready get those drinks.”
“Sure.” I plaster on a fake smile. “Looking forward to it.”
He gives me another long look up and down, and I feel that heat rising under my skin again. Dammit. This is so unfair. “I’ll see you later, Rose.”
And then he’s out the door and I can’t look away from the way his suit fits him perfectly, how it hugs every muscle and stretches across those wide shoulders. His walk is equally sexy. It screams confidence.
I watch as he drives away. With the way I’m being torn between loathing and lust, God only knows what tonight has in store.
3
Laying in my childhood bed, I stare up at the ceiling, at the collage of pictures I kept of my high school friends. I don’t talk to any of them anymore. We’ve all lost touch. High school seems like a life-time ago. Some of those memories don’t even seem like mine. Like they happened to someone else and I had watched it all from a distance.
Seeing Thomas Logan has caused my world then and my world now to crash together, and the results are disastrous. After everything that happened with Fiona, I honestly never thought that I would see him again. And I was perfectly content not to. But seeing him brings back all that delicious thrill that I had in high school. The flirtation and the sneaking and the high of our first and only kiss. It’s definitely clouding my judgment. Part of me is infuriated that I can’t back out on our meeting tonight. But the other part of me is…relieved. And curious.
After taking a much-needed shower, I pull out clothes for the dreaded drinks meeting. Just a pair of fresh jeans and a black tank top. I’m not about to dress up for this. I pull out some underwear, and for just a second I wonder if should wear something cute, like the matching burgundy set I have that’s embroidered with silver flowers. I’m looking through all the pretty sets I brought with me when I remember that this is Thomas Logan. Nothing is going to happen between us. Given our current situation, there’s no way he’s going to see my underwear, unbelievably hot as he is.
This is a business meeting borne out of desperation, not a date. I opt for basic comfort instead: black boy shorts and a black bra. The black makes me feel a little badass and adds just a little bit to my mental armor. I’m going to need as much of that as I can muster tonight. I decide on flat shoes, too. Heels will only complicate the situation. In my experience, men take heels as either a challenge or an invitation. I don’t want Thomas to think either of those things—only business thoughts are to cross his mind.
Yeah, right. As if that’s the only thing that he’s thinking after the way he looked me up and down earlier today, and the way he touched my breast while pretending to clean something off my shirt. It’s not like I wasn’t ogling him as well. I’ll have to squash that pretty quickly.
Once I’m dressed, I hop into my car. I’ll head toward the nicer side of town and text Thomas on the way. I toss my purse on the seat and put the key into the ignition, and nothing. My engine sputters and dies after I turn the key. I try it again, and it’s the same thing. Of course. Of course this would happen to me. Today of all days. After Thomas swerved past me at the high school, I ran up onto the curve trying not to hit him. Something probably got dislodged or dinged or whatever the hell makes cars make that grating sound.
Slumping, I put my head against the steering wheel. “Why me?” I send the question into the universe.
My dad is busy at the bakery so I don’t want to call him. Fiona is sleeping off the long drive it took her to get here. I also don’t want to cancel drinks. The Logans aren’t a family to mess
around with. I have to convince Thomas to make some kind of deal with his father so my dad doesn’t lose the bakery.
Dread pools in my stomach. If I cancel drinks will he take the bakery out of spite?
I hate to admit it, but part of me secretly wants to see what happens when we talk—and not just what happens with the bakery.
I fish my phone out of my bag and sigh, feeling shaky. I punch the number from his card into a new message and send him a text.
Hey, I’m really sorry to do this but I have to cancel. I don’t have a ride.
The little text bubble from him pops up almost immediately.
I’ll be right there.
What? I shake my head instinctively and text him back.
What do you mean?
He answers.
Come outside.
I grab my purse and open the garage door just as that damn fancy blue sports car is pulling up in front of my house. Thomas parks at the curb and steps out. If it’s even possible, he looks hotter than before. His suit has a blue sheen to it, and it’s fitted even closer to his body than the one this afternoon. It leaves little to the imagination, which of course sparks my imagination, wondering what he looks like under that suit. He looked good in high school, but we never got that far. I was interrupted by Fiona’s phone call before that part of the night. Good God, even though I think I might hate him, I want to see what he’s hiding under that suit. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles. “I was going to surprise you and pick you up.”
“And how, exactly, do you know where I live?”
“Your father’s address is on the loan papers. I assumed you were staying with him while you’re in town.”
I take him in, and the suit strikes me again. “Why are you this dressed up for drinks?”
He leans back against the car, the picture of leisurely luxury. “I thought we’d go to Heron’s Nest.”
“Are you serious?” Heron’s Nest is one of those restaurants that you have to wait weeks to get into. I don’t think I own any clothes that are fancy enough for Heron’s Nest. “They would laugh me out of the door in this outfit.”
I walked right into that one, because he scans me from head to toe again, and I swear that I can feel his gaze as it travels, warming me up, sizzling across my skin.
“I think you look great.”
Ignoring the heat rising to my cheeks, I wave him off. “I can’t go there. That’s too much for just drinks.”
One half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. “It doesn’t only have to be drinks.”
I try not to let him see the shock I feel. “Yes. It does.”
“The blush on your face tells a different story.” I shake my head. He continues, “I’m already here, Rose. It would be a shame to cancel now.”
I incline my head toward the car. “I know a place we can go.”
“Where?”
“I’ll show you. But I’m driving.”
He looks at me, then at his precious car. At first I think he’s going to back out of the deal and I can be free of these nagging fantasies of this night leading to something more.
But he doesn’t back out. He tosses me the keys.
I slide onto a leather seat that feels like butter.
He’s in the car too, and the purr of the engine vibrates through me.
We end up at a tiny, hole in the wall bar that I used to come to with my friends in high school. Thomas wouldn’t have even known it existed. We lived in different worlds. It’s called The Spot and they didn’t care that much that our IDs were fake—we were mostly playing pool and drinking watered-down beer. It’s exactly the kind of place that I’m dressed for. Thomas, not so much.
“Here?” he says, looking concerned.
“Here,” I say. “The drinks are cheap and it’s loud enough to cover our conversation. Plus, there’s the added factor that it’s not pretentious as fuck.”
He laughs softly before getting out of the car. “Then lead the way.”
A hush falls across the room when we enter. That’s something that I’ve only seen happen in movies, but given the way Thomas looks right now, I can’t actually say I’m that surprised. The conversations resume after a second, but I can see the way people are looking at him. Not me. The women’s gazes have an edge to them now—a hunger, and the men’s have a disdain that comes from realizing they’ll never be as attractive as the man who walked in. I’m not sure if they know who Thomas is. Probably yes, given the way the Logans are known in Hawthorne.
I make my way over to an empty table and sit. The way Thomas glances around the room tells me he’s uncomfortable.
I have to admit that seeing his discomfort brings me pleasure—I’m petty that way. It’s a little endearing, honestly. The Logans don’t slum it. I’m sure this is the first dive bar he’s ever been to in his life.
A waitress in a short skirt and low-cut top comes by to take our order, and I don’t think she looks at me the entire time she’s at the table. I don’t blame her. If I were her I’d stare at Thomas too. She leans a little too close to him, looking over the menu with him while he contemplates getting food, and coos in disappointment when he decides to just get a beer. I order a beer, too. I’m not turning this into a date. Food would just complicate things.
The waitress walks away and I roll my eyes.
“What?” he says.
“You didn’t notice the way she had her boobs in your face?”
He smiles, and when he does it changes everything about his face. He goes from being a gorgeous man to something otherworldly, something that sucks the breath straight out of my lungs. “Of course I noticed. I’m a man. Just not interested.” He pointedly drops his eyes to my chest. “Not when there’s something better in front of me.”
It’s suddenly very hot in here. I look away so he doesn’t see the blush creeping to my cheeks. “We’re here for business. Let’s keep it that way,” I tell him.
“Are we really, though?”
“Tell me about the loan,” I say, brushing past his suggestive tone.
Thomas sighs. “A little over two years ago your father took out a business loan with my father for $25,000. Enough to buy himself the equipment he needed and rent the property from us. We offered him a better location, but he wanted to minimize the loan amount so he chose that one. You can verify all of this in the paperwork and by talking to him, by the way.”
“I’ll do that.”
He smirks. “For about a year the payments were on time, but then he stopped paying. He hasn’t made any payments for the last year and a half. The papers your father signed stated that if the loan wasn’t paid back in full after thirty months, that the ownership of the business would be transferred to our business. All assets would be surrendered and sold in order to pay back the money owed. Any remaining balance would be paid from his personal finances if necessary.”
I shake my head, furious that I didn’t know this. Furious that my father would be stupid enough to sign something like that. “You know this will ruin him financially,” I say. “He’ll lose his house—my childhood home—if that equipment doesn’t cover it.”
“I know,” he says softly. “But this is what he agreed to. He signed it.”
I know my dad is at fault; he’s never been a great business man, but that doesn’t make me any less pissed that Thomas’s family hooked him into a predatory loan.
The waitress comes back to refill our beers. I order shots as well. Thomas raises his eyebrows, and I urge him to drink up in the hopes of loosening him up to new ideas. By the end of this night I plan to have my dad’s bad business deal renegotiated.
Thomas sips at his beer. When his eyes wander toward the locals still staring, I dump my shots into the vase of plastic flowers in the middle of the table. I need to be sober for this. He’s not drunk yet, but I can tell by the way he sits with his legs apart and arms draped across the table that the alcohol has at least made him comfortable.
I sit back and give him
my shrewdest look so he knows I’m not messing around. “You invited me here to talk about business. So I’m assuming that means that you didn’t drag me out here just to tell me that there’s nothing that you can do.”
“If you have a new business plan, I’m happy to hear it. I’m sure we can come up with something we can agree on.”
Something releases in my chest. This whole day has been one bit of bad news after another without any sign of letting up. This, the chink in the armor of the situation, gives me hope. It’s a small hope, but that’s all I need.
“You any good at pool?” I ask.
His eyes are half open, his smile sloppy. He must have drank the whiskey I ordered when I wasn’t looking. He’s halfway to drunk and yet still manages to be devastatingly beautiful. “I’m good at everything I do,” he says with a wink, his words starting to slur.
This should be fun.
“Let’s play,” I tell him.
I’m damn good at pool and I’m fairly certain it’s not the game of choice at the country clubs he frequents. It would make my night to see that smug smile wiped off his way-too-attractive face.
I head toward one of the pool tables in the back. Thomas follows me. I wave the waitress over and order another beer, and one for Thomas before I grab a cue.
“Is this a friendly game or a game of stakes?” he says.
I let myself smile. “I’m fine with making it interesting.”
“Me too. But what are the stakes?”
I set my beer on the table’s edge and approach him. Standing next to him, he towers over me, but I don’t back down. “I want you to release my father from his loan.”
His laughter fills the room, drawing attention to us yet again. “That is a steep bet,” he says. “And it’s worth a lot.”
I don’t say anything, because I know it’s worth a lot. I don’t have anything to offer him, and there’s no way in hell he will say yes, but I have to try. I have papers written up just in case he’s drunk enough to fall for it. I’m hoping his stupid pride will be enough to seal the deal.