She finishes plating her concoction and is pouring some orange juice when Logan walks into the kitchen, looking like a sex dream come to life. He's tugged on a pair of sweats that sit low on his waist, but the rest of him is bare. When she looks up at him, he runs a hand through his bed head and Avery can't help but find herself staring at his masculine beauty.
Apparently she must have stared too long because Logan says, "You alright? I don't think the cup can handle anymore juice."
Jerked out of her ogling, she straightens the juice container.
"I am so sorry!" Avery cries as she rushes to place the container back on the counter and grab some towels to clean up the mess. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks in both embarrassment and a long-engrained fear of disciplinary action – just one of the many take-aways from life with her grandmother. She wipes at the juice that has spilt from the cup, onto the table and floor, frantically trying to erase signs of her mistake.
"Avery, calm down. It's ok. Mistakes happen."
"I'm so sorry. I made a huge mess."
"Avery," he says as she continues to dab at the mess in haste. "Avery, stop!"
Taking a hold of her hand to stop her movements, he finally garners her attention.
"It's fine, sweetheart. Let me help you."
Grabbing a few more paper towels from the dispenser, they make easy work of cleaning up the juice. As they stand to toss the towels in the trash, Logan wipes his hand on the dishtowel that hangs over the edge of the sink, then places his hands gently on her sodden cheeks. Logan’s thumbs gently brush away the wetness while he aptly gazes in her eyes.
“I missed you waking in my bed this morning.”
“I’m sorry…for the mess I mean.”
“It’s ok. Breakfast looks great, but you’re my guest, you didn’t need to cook.”
“I wanted to. I needed to thank you for last night.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for anything. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”
Avery nods her head in understanding and then stands back, moving her head from between Logan’s grasp. Turning around, Logan pours half of the over-filled cup gracefully into the empty cup and gestures for her to sit down for breakfast.
Shoveling the food into his mouth, he barely ushers out a thank you.
"This is so good. Thank you. I usually don't get more than a protein shake in the mornings."
"You're welcome."
An awkward silence rests over the room and Avery keeps her eyes trained on her full plate – her appetite diminishing by the minute.
"Do you want to talk about last night?"
"Um...not really, no."
"Ok, I understand. Did you want to do anything today?"
"I didn't have anything in mind. I just want to forget everything going on in my life right now."
Logan looks at her longingly and with a bit of disappointment.
"Everything?" he asks.
And then understanding dawns on Avery; he's hurt.
She reaches out to touch the hand that rests on the table.
"Well, not you. I like being with you… though, I am still completely terrified."
"We're all terrified of something, Avery. Your reason is just more valid than most."
They continue to sit at the table, her picking at her food, Logan watching her do so.
"I know what we can do today," he says confidently.
Avery looks up at him hesitantly; a little worried about his enthusiasm.
"There are a few great wineries around this area. We could go to one for the afternoon."
"That sounds fun. I'll need to go back to my apartment to shower and change first."
He nods in agreement before offering to take her himself, but she declines, needing to wrap her head around everything that occurred last night. If memory serves her, she is now in a relationship with Logan.
Throwing on her outfit from yesterday, Avery searches through Logan's medicine cabinet for a spare toothbrush and she’s both happy and jealous to find one. He watches her through the open doorway of the bathroom, causing her to fumble with the toothbrush in her mouth. Spittles of frothy paste dribble from her mouth, mortifying her. Avery rushes to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and turns to glare at Logan, expecting to find humor in his gaze, but instead she’s met with heated eyes.
"Come here," he whispers.
Avery steps towards him, weary of the butterflies floating in her stomach, a feeling that seems ever present in Logan’s presence. He puts both of his hands on her cheeks, in a possessive manner that she has truly come to love in the past few weeks.
"We are going to prove each other wrong, Avery. Understand?"
She nods her head in agreement before his mouth swoops down for a melding of their lips.
His kiss unleashes a part of her she had long forgotten existed. The feeling of passion Avery had so long ago pushed aside comes barreling forth, and it takes all her strength to keep from pushing Logan towards the bed. Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck, bringing her body closer to his, and mingles her tongue against his. A growl releases deep in Logan's throat and she knows if they continue, their plans for the day will vanish into air.
Reluctantly pulling her lips from his, Avery works to level her breathing. Closing his eyes, Logan bends his head forward, resting his forehead against hers.
"You do something to me, Avery. I lose control of everything when you kiss me."
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Don't be sorry, baby. It's not a bad thing. It's a feeling I've never had before. We have something special, something incredible."
"You think so?"
Leaning back and cocking his eyebrow, he says, "You don't?"
"Oh, I do. I've never felt anything remotely close to how I feel when we're together; I'm just surprised you said something about it. I didn’t get the impression that you were the type."
"Well get ready to be surprised, a lot."
A cocky smile spreads across his face and Avery feels herself swooning.
Damn that smile.
Logan walks her to her car and promises to pick her up in two hours, though mentioned after another heated kiss against her car.
Back at her apartment, she takes the letter and information left from her grandmother and places it on her desk. With shaking hands she opens the paper containing her father's name and address:
Joseph Connelly
1255 Blue Mountain Way
Carson, NC
OMG! He lives here! In this town? What are the chances that my escape would bring me closer to my father?
Exasperatedly running her hands through her hair, Avery can't seem to grasp the fact that her father lives here. She contemplates back and forth with herself as to whether or not she wants to look him up. Her initial reaction was to open a search on the internet, when she suddenly stands from her chair in complete disgust, closing the screen on the laptop.
If I'm going to do this, then I am going to do it in person. And I'm not even sure that face-to-face is something I can handle.
Growing up, she never took the time to ask many questions about her father. She asked her mother once why her father didn’t live with them. Her mother’s response was to snarl and slap her across the face before sending her back to work. From that moment on, she never asked another question about him.
Mila, on the other hand, gave her as much information as she could after overhearing a conversation between Avery’s mother and grandmother. From what Mila had gathered, he was older than Avery’s mother, much older. Growing up, she had been completely disgusted because her mother had gotten pregnant with her at fifteen. But knowing now what she did about her mother, Avery wasn’t the least surprised. She’d seen pictures of her mother at fifteen: she had looked much closer to thirty in age. Mila had also learned that Avery’s mother had met her father at a bar. From that conversation Avery learned two things: One, that her father would have had no idea that her mother was nowhe
re close to the age she claimed and two, she was the product of a one-night-stand.
Conversations about her father never continued, and as a child, Avery never thought to ask more. Eventually, any thought of her father left her consciousness and she never thought about him again - until this letter.
Needing to think about anything else, Avery strips and moves into the bathroom and turns on the water. Stepping into the scalding spray, she lets the rivulets wash away all of her unwanted thoughts. The tension slowly releases from her body and she can feel a sense of calm wash over her with the water. Avery fills her loofa with soap and runs the soft cushion over her heated skin. As she shampoos and conditions her hair, she luxuriates in the feel of her fingers massaging her scalp. Rinsing herself off completely, she steps from the shower into the steam-filled bathroom.
Avery wipes the mirror clean with her hand and gazes at her haunted reflection in the glass. She questions if she’s ready to move forward with Logan – if she’s willing to risk pummeling into a deep and dark hole of despair if she loses him, too. But Avery immediately knows her answer when she envisions Logan; in her mirrored reflection, there is lightness in her eyes. He sparks something in her that had so long ago been buried deep within.
Blow drying her hair quickly, not realizing how long she had spent in the shower, Avery braids it over her shoulder in a fish tail design to keep it out of her way. The fall weather is a bit cooler here than in Savannah, so she tugs on a pair of dark wash jeans and a burgundy sweater, the color bringing out the blue of her eyes, then pairs the ensemble with brown leather knee-high boots. Back in the bathroom Avery applies a little bit of make-up, something she hasn't done in ages, but she doesn't need to sit and wonder why that is. She knows it's because she wants to impress Logan.
Soon a knock sounds on the apartment door and Avery tries not to rush to answer, but she can barely contain herself. Looking through the peep-hole, a cautious measure, Avery swings open the door to gape at the handsome man waiting on the other side. Logan pairs a cream-colored, long-sleeve shirt with dark wash jeans and distressed brown boots. His hair is a disheveled mess, which she adores, and his hazel eyes glisten in amusement. Reaching forward, he uses his finger on her chin to close her mouth, and being bold, he uses the tip of his thumb to wipe away a collection of moisture that had congregated at the corner of her mouth.
"Oh my god, I am so embarrassed," Avery blurts out as she covers her cheeks with her hands, a blush hastily broadening across her skin, causing her cheeks to match her shirt.
"Don't be embarrassed," he says with a quick laugh. Removing her hand, he leans in closer, lips next to her ear and whispers, "You weren't drooling, yet."
And then he kisses her cheek as he chuckles.
"You're a big meanie!" Avery exclaims as she jokingly slaps his arm.
"Wow, I haven't been called that since elementary school. How old are you again?"
"Hardy har har. I am twenty-four and way more mature than you. I just need to grab my bag. You can come in if you want."
"Thanks.”
Turning around, Avery walks towards the kitchen to grab her purse. He must have followed her into the kitchen because when Avery spins around, having grabbed her bag off the counter,she smacks into his muscular frame. Without hesitation, he wraps one strong hand around the end of her braid and yanks her closer.
A sincere and compassionate expression crosses his face.
"You look beautiful, Avery."
His voice sounds like velvet floating across her skin, the melody sending goose bumps in their wake.
Not waiting for a response, Logan tilts his muscular frame, bringing his lips closer to hers. Avery’s breathing becomes erratic and she closes her eyes in anticipation of his kiss.
"Avery, kiss me," he growls, his hands clenching part of her sweater at her hips, as he waits for her to reciprocate.
Her eyes fly open and he stares into her - lust and desire penetrating her all the way to the core, but also something else, something she is far too weary to comprehend.
Dropping her bag, Avery’s hands slither up his arms, slowly sliding across his shoulders, weaving into his hair. Waiting barely a second, Avery stands on her toes, bringing her closer to his mouth, and she seals her lips over his. Her tongue licks at his upper lip, begging for entrance, and he eagerly obliges.
Before long, Logan's strong arms completely wrap around her waist and lift her in the air as he straightens. Turning, he places her on the countertop next to them and tugs her to the edge, aligning their hips. Avery rocks against him twice before she hears a low groan echo around the room and she can't be sure if it came from him or herself. Suddenly Logan pulls away from her and gazes into her eyes. Avery can't help the disappointment that skitters across her face at his withdrawal.
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear Logan assures, "If we don't stop now we won't at all and you deserve better than that."
That darn blush creeps up her chest and neck before residing on her cheeks.
"You're right."
He helps her off the counter and grabs the purse that Avery had haphazardly dropped onto the floor.
"Come on, pretty girl. Let's go have some fun."
LOGAN TRULY HAD TO refrain himself from tugging Avery’s braid and hauling her away to her bedroom like he was some sort of caveman. For so many years, he forced away any feelings that were more than lust for a woman. He thought he knew that all women were conniving, sneaky, and untrustworthy. That was his gospel. But boy was he wrong; at least, he was hoping to be. Something about Avery was different; they were kindred spirits, both hurt in their pasts and in need of something more.
After helping Avery into his car, he headed east, further into the mountain range and towards the lake. There was a wine he had picked up at the store recently and saw it was local, so he was eager to check out the winery. After viewing their website this morning, it looked like a perfect place to relax with a bite to eat and a bottle of wine.
With the sunroof open and the windows down, Logan let the warmth of the sun wash over him. He release a contented sigh and glanced over to find Avery’s head resting against the seat, her arm draped casually along her open window. As the sun beamed down on her porcelain face and rich chocolate hair, Logan can feel his heart lurch in his chest. He’s never felt the need to fight so hard for something. To conquer an invisible enemy that lurked deep within her soul.
An urgent need to hold her overwhelms him and he removes a hand from the steering wheel and grasps her free hand tightly. She doesn’t turn her head to acknowledge his action, but she twists her fingers so that they rest between his, and a small smile dances across her lips.
The winery slowly comes into view as they creep into the valley of the mountain range. A sigh expels from Avery’s lips and he feels a sense of nervousness and excitement at bringing her here.
After parking, Logan offers Avery his hand as they walk up the steps to the large wooden and stone structure that houses the winery’s tasting room. Sneaking a glance towards the side area facing the lake, Logan sees that the band is setting up. Perfect timing. They acquire their glasses for the tasting and join a party that’s about to begin.
Avery and Logan relax into a conversation as they let the subtle taste and aroma of the wine loosen their nerves. He makes a point to bring home a few of the wines she took the most pleasure in, while also grabbing a bottle of white wine to enjoy on the terrace.
He ushers her out the side door and helps her find a table before making his way back inside to grab the tray of food he had ordered earlier. Thanking the server behind the bar for keeping the food chilled, Logan heads back out to the terrace.
Before taking his seat, Logan stands back for a moment, mesmerized by the site of Avery resting back in her chair enjoying the music and scenery. She looks the most relaxed he has seen her in the few weeks he’s known her. He observes a few of the other male patrons taking notice of her effortless beauty, but Logan can’t find himself to
be angry or jealous. She commands the attention of the room without even trying.
Logan shakes his head and smiles as he makes his way over to where she sits and he leans down quickly, brushing his lips softly against hers. She startles at first and then relaxes against his touch.
“What do you have there?” she asks, her voice tainted with huskiness, as she peers as the tray Logan sits on the table.
“Just some snacks. It’s a beautiful day. I thought we could hang out here for a little while.”
“That sounds lovely. It’s really pretty here.”
Looking at her as she continues to watch the band he says, “It’s remarkable.”
Glancing at him from the corner of her eyes, Logan knows she catches his meaning when the sweet blush rushes up her cheeks. She licks her lips in a nervous gesture before turning her attention back to the band.
Watching her pink tongue barely escape past her lips causes the muscles in his groin to tighten. Needing to tap down his desire for her, Logan grabs a few pieces of cheese and crackers from the tray, stacks them, then takes a bite. Sipping the refreshing wine that Avery poured into his glass, Logan leans back in his chair, content to enjoy the atmosphere as well as his guest.
Unfortunately, his calmness doesn’t last long when he notices a buxom blonde he had taken home from the bar one night, strut her way over to their table, leaving her date in the dust. She ignores the fact that Logan is here with another woman and plants herself directly on his lap - which truly is comical since his legs are crossed and extended forward, resting on the porch rail.
A voice which he’s certain she thinks is attractive, but is truly a nasally pitch that makes his skin crawl and would keep dogs at bay, squeals from her mouth.
“Logan, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you ever call me?”
He huffs and remains in his seat, moving his hands to her waist in an almost successful attempt to move her from my lap, only she takes it as an invitation to snuggle closer. Her perfume is nauseating and Logan can’t help but question his judgment.
Coming Alive: Welcome to Carson, Book One Page 12