by Sierra Rose
A brilliant plan—in theory. But apparently, the dog’s integrity didn’t have a price.
The meat was in a bloody pile on the floor. Logan had the bite on his hand to prove it. And as if just seeing it lying there wasn’t enough, Spartacus made sure to step on it every time he paced around the kitchen—circling like a shark.
“Okay,” Logan reasoned, lifting his hands high in the air, “I know this has to seem like revenge of the body snatchers or something—but we’re just twins. It’s nothing sinister.”
The dog answered with a loud bark, followed by a vicious growl.
“He invited me here as a guest! He’ll be back in just a few weeks—”
Another bark. Another growl.
“Fine! Don’t believe me!” He pointed angrily down at the tile. “But that’s a thirty dollar steak you keep stepping on, I probably have to get a tetanus shot, and I really have to pee!”
Spartacus walked straight over to the counter, looked up at Logan, and lifted his leg.
“Oh, that’s really mature...”
There was a knock on the door, and Logan looked over at the clock in horror. Was it seven o’clock already?! When did that happen?!
“Look,” he gentled his voice as much as possible, inching out towards the edge of the refrigerator, “I really have to come down now, okay? Will you let me come down?”
The dog stood up on his hind legs and bared his teeth.
“Come on!” Logan pleaded, glancing anxiously towards the door. “Look—we both said things we didn’t mean. Both did things we shouldn’t have.” There was another bark, and he lifted a stern finger into the air. “Yes, we did. You shouldn’t have peed on the counter, and I shouldn’t have pelted you with olives. We’re both at fault, so let’s just call a truce.”
There was another knock, and he dropped his face miserably into his hands, raising his voice to be heard from the outside. “Lacy, I just...” he gazed down at Spartacus, still ready to pounce, “I’m going to have to raincheck, okay? Something’s come up.”
There was a pause and he heard her shifting curiously on the doormat—probably peering in through the window. “Is everything alright?” she called back. “You sound weird.”
His face tightened with a grimace, as Spartacus seemed to snicker in the corner.
“Everything’s fine! I’ll call you later, okay?”
Another pause, followed by a telltale creak.
“...you know your front door is open, right?”
“Close it at once!” he shouted. “Please just close it and walk away! I think...I think I’m coming down with something. Highly contagious! You can’t come in here!”
For a second, there was silence. Then a voice spoke up from right outside the room.
“Highly contagious, huh?”
Logan’s head snapped up to see her standing in the kitchen doorway. Arms folded across her chest. A bemused twinkle in her eyes as she stared up at his perch upon the refrigerator.
“Lacy—get out of here!” he cried, scrambling to get onto the floor. “It’s the dog, he—”
The second his feet touched the ground, he was body-slammed into the far cabinets. His hands came up automatically to defend himself, but they were no match as the giant dog tackled him to the floor—coming down hard upon his chest. A silent cry caught in his throat as he braced himself for the fangs, but instead, a warm tongue licked right up the side of his face.
First one eye opened. Then the other.
“What the fuck—”
Before he could pull himself off the ground, Spartacus attacked again. Licking, nuzzling, kissing, and periodically yipping with excitement whenever Logan opened his eyes.
“Don’t look highly contagious to me.” Lacy giggled, kneeling down on the floor beside them and petting the dog behind the ears. “Looks like the two of you had a little stand-off.”
“He tried to kill me,” Logan panted, squirming back into the wall as Spartacus did his very best to shove his entire nose into the man’s ear. “I swear...he tried to kill me.”
To prove his point, he lifted his hand—still gouged with a dozen little puncture points. To be fair, it didn’t look nearly as bad as it had felt while trapped on top of the fridge...
She took it quickly in her own, turned it over, then handed it back to him with a grin.
“From a Great Dane—that’s a love bite. He probably thought you were playing a game.”
Logan glared up at the lovable mutt, refusing to be dissuaded.
“He peed on the counter.”
She snorted with laugher, and offered him a hand up.
“He’s a dog. I would think you’d be used to that after all these years.”
All these years? Oh—right!
“Yeah, of course.” He straightened his shirt and raked back his hair—making a valiant effort to act as though he hadn’t been treed by his dog for the last three hours. “Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go out and grab some dinner? Does that sound okay?”
Lacy nodded slowly, hesitating in a way he didn’t understand. “Yeah, that sounds okay to me, it’s just...” He stared at her blankly, and she pursed her lips to hide a grin. “You might want to take a shower first.”
What?
He glanced down at himself in surprise, only to find that she was absolutely right. By the looks of things, Dylan had never once cleaned on top of the refrigerator, and after having laid atop it for the last few hours, Logan had smeared ten years’ worth of dirt and food onto his shirt.
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he resisted the urge to rip it off right there on the spot. Again, he could swear the dog was laughing at him, but Lacy didn’t seem to notice.
“Sorry—of course.” He flushed again, unable to meet her eyes. “Do you mind waiting? I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Fine by me.” She slipped off her jacket and tossed it on the kitchen table, making herself at home. “Gives me time to snoop around your house.” Their eyes met for a split second, before she flashed an innocent smile. “Just kidding.”
Logan laughed nervously, but to be honest, it wasn’t the joke that had thrown him off balance. It was what Lacy was wearing under her jacket.
It wasn’t like it was a particularly flashy dress. Not too pricey, not showing too much skin. But the sight of her wearing it would be enough to undo any man. The way the periwinkle fabric clung to her skin, before swishing out into a gentle skirt. The way her creamy skin seemed to glow in contrast. The way the color exactly matched her dazzling eyes, making them shine like twinkling gemstones on her face.
“Um...I’ll just be...” He tried to play it off as cool, while simultaneously backing into the wall. “I’ll just be quick.”
He disappeared before he could say another word, before he could trip into anything else, fleeing to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The second he shut the door, he leaned back against it—trying to catch his breath.
Why was he acting this way? Was she that beautiful?
...yes.
Okay, but he’d been out with beautiful women before. He didn’t go tripping into things.
Maybe this one was different.
Different how? Different in that she thought he was a cheater who’d just had a schizophrenic break in front of his dog? Different in that she didn’t know his real name?
Yeah...that could be a problem.
He ran his hands back through his hair with a sigh, wincing as a tremor ran through his mangled palm. Five little puncture wounds. That was the only battle scar he got. It wasn’t fair.
Without further ado, he turned on the shower—determined not to make her wait a second longer than was necessary. As fate would have it, he and Dylan actually used the same shampoo (a fact that he was quite eager to share with his brother), and he was just lathering up when there was a sudden creak across the tile. His eyes snapped open to see that the door had been pushed ajar—letting in a burst of cold air.
For a second, his blood
ran cold.
“...Spartacus?”
A peal of laughter drifted in through the steam.
“That dog really did a number on you, huh?”
Logan jumped in his skin, eyes darting around the bathroom. The shower curtain wasn’t exactly transparent, but it wasn’t a wall either. It was rather opaque. Letting through the silhouette of a person. A silhouette that got more detailed the closer you stood.
“Lacy?” His hands cupped automatically between his legs. “Are you in here?”
“So tell me...why does a serial playboy take the time to ask a girl on a date?” She paused to examine some shaving cream on the counter. “Not exactly your style, is it?”
Logan’s chest rose up and down with rapid, shallow breaths. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her—strolling back and forth in the steam. What she could see? He didn’t know.
“People can change,” he answered quietly, more nervous than he was letting on. “Why did you decide to go out with a serial playboy if you’re so worried?”
“Maybe I’m just hoping to be here when he’s finally eaten by his Great Dane.”
Logan couldn’t help but laugh, bowing his head as the warm water trickled down his shoulders. He was...on edge, having her in there. That was putting it lightly. And he was painfully aware of the fact that she would be able to see if ‘on edge’ turned into something else.
“And you think that now’s the best time to talk about it?” he asked, turning slightly so he was only in profile. “Catch me when my guard’s down?”
“Is it down?” she asked lightly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
A bright flush colored Logan’s cheeks and he busied himself with the water—trying to rinse off the shampoo as quick as he could. She was playing with him now. Like a particularly cruel cat with a particularly sudsy mouse. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. There was a sudden creak on the tile as she wandered over closer. Close enough to touch the curtain if she wished. His breath caught in his chest, and he froze—waiting.
He could see her dress in the foggy curtain. See the pearly flash of her teeth, as her lips pulled back in a mischievous smile. “I just figured, as long as you were in here...I might as well have a little fun.” Her hand reached towards the curtain, then paused. Then dropped to her side.
Logan let out a silent breath, and slammed his fist upon the nozzle. It shut off in an instant, leaving him abruptly cold. Cold, but with a reluctant grin. He stuck his head outside the curtain to see her staring back at him with a wide, shameless smile.
“Mind handing me a towel?”
She gestured innocently to the rack behind her, acting as though she didn’t understand.
“One of these?”
A shiver ran up Logan’s body. One that had nothing to do with the cold.
“Yeah, princess. One of those.”
She smiled angelically, picking up the one on top.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions first?”
Logan shook his head with a disbelieving smile. Was she serious right now? This was really how she was going to play it? He was about to refuse. About to act as though the nudity didn’t make him nervous in the slightest and he could outlast her. But then she flashed another one of those dimpled smiles, and he was putty in her hands.
“Three questions.”
Her eyes lit up, then dilated in sudden concentration—trying to make the most of them.
“Did you really know that Angie was married?”
Whoa—she was getting serious!
Logan’s shoulders wilted, and he decided to go with a half-truth. “I had my suspicions, but to be honest, it never came up. We were busy doing...other things.”
She absorbed this unblinkingly, before moving on to the next one.
“What made you ask me out?”
“You make me smile,” he blurted without thinking. “All the time. Constantly. Even when you’re not around. I think of you...and I smile.”
Whoa—I’m getting serious!
He’d had no intention whatsoever of giving something like that away. Why he’d said it out loud was completely beyond him. Maybe it was the fact that he was naked, maybe it was that he was developing a latent form of tetanus, but something about her demanded the absolute truth.
“...oh.”
His head snapped up, and he peered back through the curtain for the first time. It still wasn’t that easy to make out her face, but she appeared to be as caught off guard as he was himself. She’d paused mid-step, and was staring with wide eyes at the shower.
When she saw him looking, she tried to play it off—sauntering up to the edge of the curtain with an air of fierce determination. “Did you ask me out hoping to get me into bed?”
Logan’s lips parted uncertainly, and he took a step back. Any way he considered, it felt like a trick question. And any way he answered, it felt like he would lose.
Whatever you say—say it fast. The room’s losing steam.
“...I asked you out because you make me smile.”
He didn’t know if that was the answer she was looking for, but to be honest, he didn’t really know the answer himself. That would have to do.
She was quiet for a moment, thinking it over, then she walked straight up and ripped back the curtain. Logan stepped back with a gasp, as she looked him up and down. His heart stopped beating and his body froze in absolute shock. A second later, it was over. She tossed him the towel—her eyes twinkling with a mischievous grin.
“Had to see if it lived up to the pictures...”
Chapter 21
After their little showdown in the bathroom, Logan and Lacy separated off to opposite ends of the house. He barricaded himself in the bedroom, dressing as quickly as he could, while she took Spartacus into the backyard to get a little sunshine.
When he walked out, a few minutes later, she was tossing him a tennis ball—clapping her hands in delight every time he galloped across the yard and brought it back. He cleared his throat softly, and she looked up with a start—her cheeks coloring with a guilty blush.
“Hey,” she pushed to her feet, smoothing down her dress, “you ready to go?”
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the side of the house with a caustic grin. “Actually, I was hoping you’d stand naked in the middle of the yard. I could shower you down with the hose—ask you personal questions. You wouldn’t mind, right?”
Her blush grew even brighter, but before she could answer, the doorbell rang.
Seriously? Saved by the bell?
It looked like she was thinking the same thing. A look of utter relief spread across her lovely features, before she gestured innocently towards the front door.
“You should probably get that.”
He stared her down for another moment, before walking away with a rueful grin. She called in the dog and flitted quickly in his shadow, that angelic smile still painted across her face.
The second he opened the door, he was cheerfully accosted all over again.
“Dylan!”
He took a step back as the name came at him from two sides. Once from a woman who was old enough to be his grandmother, and again from a man he could only assume was her husband. Their faces brightened in delight upon seeing him, then brightened all over again when they saw he had company.
“Uh...yes?”
Really, Dylan? You couldn’t give me any names?
The woman stepped forward at once, enclosing his hands in her own with a habitual fondness that said she’d done it many times before. “Oh honey—we’re so happy you came to the door. We were afraid you’d forgotten and gone out.”
Logan and Lacy shared a quick look, before he stared back out at his surprise visitors.
“...forgotten?”
“The neighborhood potluck?” That grandmotherly warmth cooled a few hundred degrees as her voice took on the hint of a warning. “The one I told you about a week ago, and the week before that?” She leaned dangerously close. “Th
e one you promised to attend.”
A massive internal dilemma sprang up in Logan’s mind, but before he could think of what to do, Lacy slipped her hand sweetly into his own. “He’s pulling your leg,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “He didn’t forget—he actually invited me to go with him.”
“He did?!” The woman looked about ready to pass out right there on the spot. “Why Dylan! That’s a lovely idea!” She turned to the man next to her, barking out an instant replay. “Paul—did you hear that? Dylan’s bringing a date!”
The man chuckled, deepening the wrinkles by the corners of his eyes. “Of course I heard it, Susy. I’m standing right here.”
Susy clapped her hands with a watery smile. “Well Paul and I think it’s wonderful. And you, my dear, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. What’s your name?”
Lacy held out her hand with a gracious smile.
“Lacy Larson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Susy. Paul.”
She shook each one of them in turn, smiling with a dignity and grace far beyond her years. For a second, all Logan could do was stare. Then he realized they were all staring at him.
“Don’t worry about us,” he wrapped his arm around Lacy’s shoulder, drawing her up against him for the first time since they’d danced, “we’ll be there.”
“With the pie?” Susy demanded. “You promised you’d bring a pie.”
“Oh you of little faith,” he scoffed, ushering them away. “Of course I’m bringing a pie.”
They waved over their shoulders, chuckling as they made their way down the walk. Half-way there, Susy called out, “See you at eight!” before they disappeared around the corner.
Logan and Lacy stared after them for a moment, before she turned to him with a bemused smile. “Did you forget something?”
“Lacy, I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, feeling a little lost as to how to proceed. Every time he tried to take a step forward with this woman, something about Dylan’s crazy life always held him back. “I can try to get out of it. Track her down and say it’s not going to work—”