“Me, neither. Good to know we’ve got that in common,” he said solemnly.
After a giggle escaped, Madison continued. “But I do like their music.”
“Me, too. They played their first stage show in the United States right here in D.C., at the Washington Coliseum. Two nights after their historic Ed Sullivan appearance. It doesn’t look like much anymore, but I could take you there.”
Brooke squeezed his hand again. Hopefully this time it meant that he’d said something right. That he’d said enough. That he’d pulled his head out of his ass and made a real effort.
“Omigosh. That sounds cool and different and amazing. I’d love to go,” Madison gushed. She seemed to have only two settings—silence and a full-on eruption of words. “As long as we can listen to their songs in the car on the way. With the windows down. Singing along at the top of our lungs.”
Logan considered the request. First he’d have to talk one of his roommates into loaning him a car. Then he’d need to make a playlist of the songs that rocked but weren’t overplayed in elevators every damn day. But there was still one major hurdle with fulfilling her wish. “Can you sing?”
She bit her lip. “Not a note.”
“Me, neither. It’ll be great.” Then Logan burst out laughing. Less at his weak joke than in relief at the fact that they’d finally had a normal exchange. Madison joined in, and then so did Knox and Brooke. They laughed so hard, and so long, the mule’s handler turned around to stare at them. As did the teenagers sitting on the canal bank with their legs dangling over the wall.
Logan relaxed. Drew what felt like his first deep breath since he’d spotted the tall, blond bundle of sunshine. This having-a-sister thing would work out after all. He’d just keep it simple. Think of it as a blind date. Volley some shallow questions back and forth, to get warmed up. They’d started with music. Why not riff on that for a while?
“Are you a big music person?” Madison asked. How about that—they were on the same wavelength. “Would I be off your Christmas card list if I didn’t like The Beatles?”
Aww, hell. He’d hoped that the email apology he sent for being such a judgmental prick in their first conversation had cleared the air. Maybe it did. But it sure didn’t set up a foundation of trust. Which had to be one of the top three bullet points in his imaginary instruction manual. “Move your ass,” he ordered Knox.
The boat tipped back and forth a little as Knox stood and Logan took his spot on the plastic cushion. Then he sandwiched Madison’s hand between his. And hoped his sweaty palms didn’t freak her out. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to turn into a brother overnight. I’m trying. I can tell I’m doing a shit-ass job at it so far. But I’m going to keep trying. I’ll never stop trying to be a better brother to you. I don’t even send Christmas cards. Never have. You’re getting one, though, every Christmas for the rest of your life. That’s a promise.”
Was it lame? Shit. Madison deserved presents. Of course he’d get her a present, too. Did she get that? That he was just trying to riff off of her question? And why hadn’t they done this first meeting over beers? Or better yet, shots? Alcohol could only improve his coherence at this point.
“I’m screwing up, too, Logan. I launched myself at you like a bear going after a salmon. It’s just that I had a few months to get excited about meeting you. My mistake was in not giving you time to adjust to the idea.”
Might as well get it all out in the open today. Then they’d never have to wallow in this dual-edged apology-fest again. Which would be good. Because it was about as much fun as the time he’d fallen off a rock ledge onto a cactus. “I’m sorry about what happened when you called me in Kazakhstan. It was a knee-jerk reaction to some really fucking unbelievable news. It wasn’t a personal attack against you.”
Those golden eyes crinkled at the corners as she gave him a gentle smile full of absolution. “Knox filled me in on the size of your family fortune. I understand why you were worried I was a gold digger. A fraud. You had to be careful.”
Logan could barely believe it. She didn’t just forgive him. She was making excuses for him. Knox was right. Having Madison dropped into his life was one heck of a gift. “Let’s get something straight. It’s not just my money. It’s yours, too.”
Her spine straightened like he’d shoved a tire iron down her shirt. “I didn’t search for you to get you to empty your pockets.”
“I believe you.” And he did. Madison wore her heart on her plain white sleeve. Or rather, in her eyes. They showed all her emotions, especially her naked honesty. He let go of her hand to spread his arms wide. “Everything that comes from our father, everything already sitting in the bank from Grandpa, is going to be split in half. Evenly.”
“There are probably reams of paperwork. Lawyers. I don’t think it’s up to you.”
“The hell it isn’t.” She’d gotten the short end of the stick for her entire life. Logan refused to stand by and watch it happen for another day. This having-a-sister thing was starting to come easier. Hell, he’d had the ACSs as his brothers since that hellacious trip to Italy. Maybe he did know how to do this. “I’ll talk to Dad. Wait. We’ll just go see him. Together. He’ll meet you, and that’ll be all it takes to kick-start him into doing the right thing.”
Logan didn’t condone his father ignoring Madison all these years. That was still something that needed to be thrashed out between them. But he could see that ignoring a faceless baby a continent away was a whole different thing than looking your daughter in the eye. Dad wouldn’t be able to shirk his responsibility once he met Madison.
“Nope.” And that was it. One word. Amazing, since Logan didn’t think Madison had it in her to spit out a sentence with less than at least a dozen words. What the hell?
“How about you let me sit next to my fiancée again? You’ve got your own girl over there.” Knox kicked at his foot. With a very shiny, very hard shoe.
Sure. The guy didn’t speak up during the whole long, uncomfortable silence part. Now that it’d gotten interesting, he’d suddenly found his voice? Logan stood and made the switch. Not because Knox interrupted. Just because he did want to rest his thigh against Brooke’s again. Until he felt how sticky they both were.
Putting a little space between them, Logan contented himself with curling a long strand of her ponytail around his finger. “I thought Dad reached out to you already. Isn’t that how you found me?”
“He didn’t reach out to me. At all. Just to my mother. And, you know, there’s the Internet. I’m findable.”
Silence fell again, like a fucking cannonball right into the middle of the boat. The small of Logan’s back itched where sweat had pooled, dried, and pooled again. What the hell was he supposed to say? Madison’s hurt didn’t just run deep, it burst out of her like a geyser. No matter how many memories he shared of his dad, it wouldn’t come close to putting a cork in it. How had he thought for a second that this would be easy?
Brooke rummaged in her purse and handed Madison her card. “Here. You’ll have to give me all your social media info. I hate the thought of you being new here and not knowing anyone besides the ACSs. Boys have a time and a place”—she flicked Logan a look full of something even hotter than the air temp—“but you need girlfriends.”
“I lucked into some already. My roommate, Annabeth, and her friends Summer and Chloe.”
Brooke’s attempt at normal small talk gave him more time to work through the clusterfuck in his head. Problem was, Logan had zero idea how to fix it. Or even how to find common ground between them on their shared DNA donator. Huh. How was he supposed to reconcile the straight-shooting man who’d raised him with the cowardly sneak Madison described—and rightfully so?
He leaned forward. Propped his forearms on his knees. “You don’t think he’ll step up?”
“I haven’t bothered to think it through that far.” But the tightness around her mouth and the way her eyes focused on the mule’s ass belied her words. Madison had t
hought about it, all right. She’d made a decision, too. “I just know that I’m not going to see him.”
“Come on.” Logan didn’t blame her for the way she felt. He just wanted her to open the door a little. A freaking crack. Give Dad the opportunity to make amends. To at least try to smooth things out.
“Nope. No way.”
Knox signaled time-out. “You’ve already picked one thing you guys can do together. Let’s call that enough planning ahead for now.” Then he leveled one hell of a glare at Logan. The kind Knox usually reserved for sommeliers who didn’t know their wine list well enough. Or soccer players who flopped on the field when someone brushed them with an elbow and acted like they’d gotten whacked with a wrecking ball.
Yeah. He got the hint. Stop harassing his sister. The green awning over a shop gave him an idea. “Did you ever see the Northern Lights in Alaska?”
“All the time.”
“I saw them in Greenland. And from the Blue Lagoon in Iceland.”
“I’m going to say quantity beats exotic locales, in this case. It doesn’t matter where you’re standing when all you’re doing is looking up. The darkness amplified our seeing them in the bush.”
“But I did it with an iced shot glass of slivovitz in my hand. Talk about an enhanced experience.” Logan saw everyone’s shoulders settle lower, their faces relax. The uncomfortable moment had officially been bridged. They’d move on with the rest of the double date. Logan would make damn sure not to bring up anything controversial again. Or anything to do with family.
Avoidance—today—was the equivalent of sticking a ripped-off piece of toilet paper on a sucking chest wound. Avoidance long term would just turn that wound gangrenous. He’d seen—and smelled—that ugliness a lot on disaster sites.
And since he barely knew Madison, Logan would have to start debriding the wound with his dad.
Some summer vacation so far.
Chapter 13
Completely confused, Brooke looked left across the crowded National Mall at the stately Greek columns of the National Gallery. Which was closed at seven o’clock at night. Then she looked right to the red-tiled roof of the National Air and Space Museum. Also closed. Then, of course, her gaze landed straight ahead at the wide marble steps of the U.S. Capitol. Since she wasn’t on one of those double-decker red tourist buses, Brooke had no idea why they were here.
She hadn’t hesitated for a second when Logan asked her to meet him at the Metro station. First of all, because he was probably still sort of shell-shocked from meeting his sister two days ago. Definitely in need of fun, TLC, or both, which was right up Brooke’s alley. Secondly, and more selfishly, because Logan made her feel good.
Even though their afternoon with Madison had had more than its fair share of awkward moments, Brooke still enjoyed just being with him. His easy manner, ineffable sensuality, and utter manliness pushed all her buttons to go. Time with Logan was fun and, more importantly, effortless. No posing, no working hard to make the right impression, like she did with real dates. Being with Logan was all the goodness of hanging with a close friend, topped off by the awesome extra of the super-duper sexiness he’d grown into.
When you got an old friend back, you clutched all the harder at every opportunity to be with him, because now you knew the emptiness of him being out of your life. Which wasn’t to say that she’d consciously missed Logan over the years. Leaving high school automatically meant leaving people you cared about behind. Friendships changed, ebbed and flowed across the years—that was just the way of it.
But with him back in her life, she so strongly remembered their—well, she’d use his word—comfortable friendship. Teenagers often weren’t that close with the opposite sex when not dating. They’d known their friendship was looked at as weird back then. Other people not getting it didn’t stop them, though. It didn’t stop them from always finding things to talk about. To tease about. Things between them always just clicked. And now all those pieces fell into place again just as easily.
Thirdly, and most obviously, she’d agreed to meet Logan because she’d be insane to pass up a beautiful summer night with an incredibly hot man whose low laugh brought goose bumps to her skin.
But he’d been mysterious about the plan for the evening the whole trip on the subway. “I don’t understand why we’re here,” she complained. “Congress is in its summer recess. Besides, even if it weren’t, you don’t strike me as the type who wants to brush shoulders with lobbyists for giggles.”
“God, no.” He playfully yanked at the single thick braid hanging halfway down her back. “Bite your tongue, woman. Lobbyists wag their tongues all day long and don’t do a lick of solid work.”
She widened her eyes and pressed a hand to his mouth. “Bite your tongue. You might get a glove slapped across your face, and challenged to a dual for saying something like that out loud in the shadow of the Capitol dome.”
“Brooke, when I finish a day’s work, I’ve saved a life. Built something. Or torn a broken structure down so something else can be rebuilt in its place. I know I’ve contributed. Made a difference. At the end of a lobbyist’s day, they’ve changed a vote. Not someone’s mind, but a vote for some bartering or bribing reason.”
Now he’d gone and made her picture him in dashing hero mode. Which wasn’t just sexy (although washboard abs showing through a sweaty tee was one heck of an image). More so, it made her respect Logan so darned much. She taught for—sort of—the same reason. To know that what she did all day made a contribution to society. That in at least some small way, she was helping to shape lives.
But it brought an obvious question to mind as they waited out traffic in front of the marble peace monument. “If you’re so anti-politics, why do you stay in D.C.?”
“For their soccer team, of course. D.C. United all the way. Baseball, too. And don’t get me started on the mouthwatering goodness of the District Chophouse.”
“Sports and steak. I’m guessing there are a few other major cities that could handle those requirements.” Brooke laid her denim jacket across her purse. She didn’t know the plan, but it’d protect against either a breeze or, more probably, mosquitoes. “Seriously. Why do you keep coming back here as a home base in between your trips around the world?”
“Seriously?” Logan crossed his eyes. Waggled his eyebrows. Then he stuck his thumbs in his ears and waved his fingers. Adorably ridiculous. Logan didn’t get in silly moods too often, but they were always worth the wait. Had always cracked her up. “Is that the kind of date this is going to be? A serious one?”
Date? Date? Brooke looked down at her plain white tank, tucked into a yellow-and-navy-striped maxi-skirt. Sure, she’d tossed on a chunky yellow crystal necklace, but that didn’t change the fact that she was essentially wearing T-shirt fabric head to toe. Toes shod in flat, unsexy sandals that made it easy to walk to the Metro. She’d dressed to meet her old friend Logan. Not to flirt with a date.
Of course, Brooke wanted to have sex with him again. Thought about it pretty much nonstop. But their fling on the island had pretty firm guidelines. One-night stand. No-strings fling. She didn’t want to presume. She certainly didn’t want to complicate the unexpectedly great resurrection of their friendship. They’d touched a ton every time they’d seen each other in D.C. Kissed.
But could they be friends with benefits? When Logan could get called away again to some disaster halfway around the world? Did he want that? Did she? There were strong reasons not to hook up again. Hooking up, however, was vastly different from dating. Which did he want? Which could she safely do without risking her heart? The answers weren’t obvious at all. Not to her, anyway.
So Brooke hadn’t pressed Logan. She hadn’t attached a formal title to whatever it was they were doing. She’d gone with him to meet Madison as a friend. As support. And yes, she’d walked away wondering, Now what? Keep the status quo as just friends? Text him something suggestive to get him back in her bed? Poke a little to see if he was open to a relationshi
p? With her life turned upside down and Brooke having zero idea of what to do next with it, was a relationship the last thing she needed to complicate things?
After biting her lip, she said, “Um…I didn’t even know this was a date. Officially.”
“Man. Then I’ve screwed this seven ways to Sunday.” He scratched the back of his neck. Shot her a sideways look of wide-eyed incredulity. “You really didn’t know?”
“No.”
“It’s Friday night, Brooke.”
Oops. Being unemployed mixed with just coming off vacation meant Brooke had completely lost track of the days of the week. She took in his outfit with fresh eyes. An ironed blue and peach madras shirt. Tucked into his shorts, not hanging out. Navy deck shoes instead of flip-flops. No five-o’clock shadow. Logan looked great. Too great for a random subway ride and stroll. Now it made sense. Now the fact that they were on a date was, in fact, incredibly obvious.
“You make an excellent point. I probably should’ve noticed that clue.” She’d play defense for a second. Make him spell it out. Because yes, a woman needed to hear the words. She needed to be officially asked out. Just to prevent any murkiness. “But as much as I enjoyed meeting your sister—and nursing you after your fight—we haven’t had a real date yet.” They kept accidentally falling into situations that brought them together. Situations that lacked focused intention. Or a label.
“I know. That’s what tonight’s about.” Logan took her hand. Tenderly folded both of his hands around it like a sexy clamshell. “Do you remember admitting that you’d always crushed on me?”
Whoa. “Only after you admitted to always having a crush on me,” she countered. Who said what first totally, absolutely mattered.
“Well, I thought about it back then. What it’d be like to date you. Where we’d go. What we’d do.”
Brooke bit back a sigh. A sigh of wistfulness for her younger self and missed opportunities. And she bit back a curse for the bad timing that evidently plagued her sophomore, junior, and senior years. “Was there kissing involved in those imaginings?”
Giving It All Page 15