by Lisa N. Paul
Her laugh came easily, releasing the tension in her belly and the stiff look on Logan’s face. “Oh, you sweet man, be careful what you wish for. After coffee, you may not want dinner with me.” Rolling the ball in her palms, Wren sucked in a breath.
“Shit, you’re going to ask that thing about going for coffee?” He blinked.
“Yeah, I ask it everything. Should I have coffee with Logan on Sunday?” Before she could give the first shake, Logan plucked the ball from her grip. “What are you doing?”
“If my future is in this ball, then I’m going to do whatever I can to skew the odds in my favor.” Lifting the Fortune Eight to his lips, Logan whispered, “Come on, baby, gimme a coffee date.” He kissed the black plastic, then lowered it into her trembling hands.
“Oh, to be that ball,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Give it a shake.”
Praying for a positive response, Wren dropped her gaze and asked, “Should I go out for coffee with Logan on Sunday?”
–It Is Certain–
Amazing how those three words silently delivered could have such a large impact on two people’s lives. Equally amazing that a short message could turn what had been an evening full of small smiles into what could only be described as beaming magnificence.
“Looks like we have ourselves a date for Sunday morning. Thank God. I’d like to say that your ball was smart,” Logan teased, “but let’s be honest, it was my kiss that did the trick.”
“I have no doubt.” Wren’s lip caught between her teeth. “From what I remember, it was a pretty fantastic kiss.” Please take the hint, please take the hint. When Logan stood and extended his hand to hers, Wren nearly cheered.
“Let’s see if your memory served you right.” Her cheek rested in his large hand, and he claimed her lips the way he had the microphone—with passion, strength, and skill.
It started out slow, with feather-soft kisses no doubt meant to tantalize and tease, coaxing a quiet whimper from her throat. He tangled his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp just before tugging at the roots, and used his tongue to force her lips open. His taste, his touch, his heat, all of it was heavenly. She was so consumed in all that was Logan, the whistles and catcalls decreased into nothing but white noise.
“Christ, Wren, your mouth.” Logan swept the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip before lifting his gaze to her eyes. “Can’t get enough of it. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or pissed that we’re standing in Crushed right now.”
Barely able to process his words through her lust-addled mind, she stared wordlessly.
“I could spend days—fuck, months—doing nothing more than savoring your lips, your tongue. The fact that we’re in this bar has saved me from making a huge mistake and trying for anything more than just a kiss, because Wren, believe me when I say I want so much more.”
Wren gently traced her lips with the pads of her fingertips, reliving his touch as she replayed his words. There was a lightness in her chest she hadn’t felt in years. “I’m kinda happy we’re in public too, because when it comes to you, I don’t think there can be enough more.”
“Fuck…” Logan crushed his mouth to Wren’s again.
Damn, this man is good.
“Ahem, virgin eyes over here.”
Emmy’s voice permeated the Logan-lust Wren once again found herself floating in, and Wren pulled away and looked at her friend.
“Baby”—Smith wagged his brows—“thought we just discussed there’s only one thing virginal about you, and it sure as shit ain’t your eyes.”
Wren gasped, Emmy gaped, and Logan whapped Smith on the back of the head.
“How you get women go to out with you, let alone sleep with you, remains a mystery.” Logan glanced at Emmy before turning back to Smith. “For some reason, that one keeps coming back for more. So for Christ’s sake, stop being a dog.”
“I can’t, dude.” Smith’s eyes softened when they moved to Emmy. “My girl has a soft spot for dogs. Scratches them behind the ears, lets them sleep in her bed…” Emmy beamed when Smith swept her hair to the side and kissed her neck. “Even lets them lick her whenever they want.” His voice lowering, Smith turned Emmy to face him and said, “She likes me for who I am, and because of that, this dog will behave better.”
Wren felt her bones turn to mush, but Emmy grinned, her saucy behavior on display for the tiny audience of three. “Aw, studly, that was really sweet. You know I like nothing more than to see you beg.”
Wren wasn’t sure if it was Emmy’s comment or the look on Logan’s face that made her giggle, but she couldn’t hold back any longer. Once she started, the other three joined in. Wren shivered with excitement. For the first time in too damn long, she and Emmy had found men who made them laugh. Wren didn’t usually open herself up to a guy, but something about Logan made her comfortable and calm while still giving her butterflies and making her girlie parts tingle. She had a good feeling about Logan Enders. Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Eight
I’m Busy, Take Care
“Salud.” Shot glasses clinked before a hot trail of tequila burned down Logan’s throat.
“Another round is on its way,” Noah called over his shoulder on the way to the bar.
A Saturday night with his boys was exactly what Logan needed. Lifting the cold beer to his lips, he winked at his friends. It felt damn good to be with them. At nearly thirty years old, playing with the band still rocked his world, but partying like a rock star required recovery time. Especially for someone who was out of practice. His boys had wanted to celebrate the previous night, however, unlike Noah, Ethan, and Marcus, Logan had had to get up early and go into work for meetings. So the celebration was moved on his behalf. Did he get razzed for being a pussy? Yep. But his life was different. The work was constant, and sometimes he felt as though he was juggling too many balls at once.
“You still not recovered from Thursday night, Grandpa?” Smith asked.
“Fuck you.” Logan chuckled. “Your ass was dragging just as bad as mine on Friday, and don’t pretend it wasn’t. Just because your brother’s a rock star doesn’t mean you inherited his ability to party.”
Smith clapped Logan’s shoulder. “Oh, I can party just fine, buddy—ask Emmaline. If ya know what I mean.”
The over exaggerated wink made Logan snort and choke on his beer. “Yeah, no thanks. Message received though.”
Noah returned with another round of tequila shots and a round of giggling females. “These lovely ladies thought we looked thirsty. I invited them over to meet you all as a thank you.”
Squeals were made, drinks were downed, busty lusty hugs were given, and within seconds, the women had led Marcus, Noah, and Ethan to the makeshift dance floor—which was just a patch of open space between tables.
“How’s the fortune teller doing?” Smith grinned before sucking back his beer.
“Fine, I guess.” Logan picked at the label on the beer bottle.
“Fine you guess?” Smith chuckled. “Dude, your shit was all jacked up on Thursday. I swore you were gonna pee on that chick just to make sure no other dude even looked at her. Now she’s ‘fine you guess’?”
Truth was, other than a text on Thursday night after leaving the bar to confirm the time for their date on Sunday, Logan hadn’t spoken to Wren. Smith was right—he was completely into Wren Jamison and had been since the night they met. Seeing her again, unexpectedly, had blown him away. The beautiful, quirky woman had so many sides, Logan wasn’t sure there was even a shape to describe her.
When they first met, he’d seen a gorgeous female with clear blue eyes and a killer smile, but over the hours they spent together, she had charmed him with her wit and self-deprecating humor, as well as her knowledge of the few current event topics they discussed. And when he got her on the dance floor, her body became one with the music, and once they touched, they became one with each other. Having her body pressed
against his, moving in time with each song, he somehow knew she wasn’t trying to tease him as much as she was truly enjoying him. She was refreshing and fun… and then she slipped out with barely a wave and a giggle.
Logan had convinced himself that she was nothing more than a shallow club girl, a figment of his alcohol-addled imagination. Or maybe she was married or taken or just a damn enigma. Whatever the case, it was one evening. Even though he couldn’t get her off his mind, he was probably better off without her in his busy life.
On Thursday, she’d shown him she was real, and once again, she cast her spell, leaving Logan just as charmed as he was the first night. But she let a plastic ball determine her life choices, and that was the complete opposite of how Logan ran his life. His life was exciting, yet full, and after spending the evening with Wren, no matter how amazing she was, Logan wasn’t sure he could put the time and effort into a relationship with someone who was so…erratic.
The problem was he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. Not for a day, not for an hour.
“You mean Emmy hasn’t said anything to you about Wren or me not calling Wren?”
“Bro, the last thing Emmaline and I are doing when we’re together is talking about you.” Smith snorted. “No offense.”
“None taken.” I wonder if she bothered to tell Emmy about our date. The thought irked him. “I’m taking her out for coffee tomorrow morning.”
“Hey, guys, these beautiful girls would like to buy us drinks.” The guys returned from dancing with four different ladies than the ones they’d left with only minutes before.
Shaking his head, Logan laughed. No wonder Marcus and Greg had ended up with mono. But no matter how many random chicks paraded over to the table, the only woman who occupied Logan’s thoughts was the petite ball-toting brunette.
Drinks came to the table, a toast was made, and as Logan slung back the alcohol, he noticed a familiar face at the far side of the bar, closest to the door.
Logan sprang from his chair. “Shit. Shit. Fuck, shit.”
“You okay?” Concern laced Smith’s question.
“Wren’s here.” Logan pointed at the now-empty spot. “Shit, she was just there.”
“Calm down, Lo.” Smith’s eyes searched the bar, not looking nearly as calm as he told Logan to be. “It’s all good. You haven’t spoken to the ball girl for days. Why do you care? Besides, it probably wasn’t even her. You’re drinking, man. Who knows what you saw.”
Alcohol churned in his gut when his phone vibrated, indicating a text message. On the first night they met, Wren had said she preferred bars to clubs and she sometimes went out for a drink on her own to unwind. Knowing damn well what he’d seen, the message wasn’t a surprise, but it still fucking hurt.
Wren: About coffee tomorrow, I’m busy. Take care.
“Fuck.”
*
“Shit.” Wren dropped her phone into her bag and hightailed it through the parking lot.
She should have left things with Logan well enough alone after the first night. She was the one who had walked away. Regret had to be better than embarrassment. But no, she’d gone back for more, getting her hopes up on Thursday night, thinking Logan Enders was as into her as she was him. Then she became a whiney girl she hated for two days when she didn’t hear from him.
“Grr, why can’t I just be happy alone? Just me and my ball.”
“I’ve asked myself the same question over the past two days,” a familiar voice called from behind her.
Halting, Wren closed her eyes. Even the darkness of night wasn’t enough to shield her from the embarrassment she felt. The sound of Logan’s footsteps increased as he got closer, his breathing erratic as if he had run from the bar in order to catch up to her.
Having, apparently, said too much on Thursday, Wren stood silently. Her back to his front. Her eyes closed so she wouldn’t bear witness to further humiliation.
“I can’t get you out of my mind. I’ve tried, but I can’t. Please look at me.”
“No, I’ve tried but I can’t.” Hmm, that may have come across bitchier than I meant. “I don’t want to be rude, Logan.” Wren continued to face away. “I just don’t see a reason to continue this conversation.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His voice went deeper as he stepped closer. “We are so different, you and me. I thrive on control and choices and decisiveness, and you… don’t. My life sometimes feels like it’s about to explode from all the stuff I have going on, and the last thing I thought to add was a relationship, especially one with a complicated, intriguing woman such as yourself. The thing is… the thing I should have known from the countless songs I’ve written is there’s no such thing as control when it comes to matters of the heart. Yep, that absolutely sounded as cheesy out loud as it did in my head.”
Wren turned to face him. How could she not? He had officially made himself as vulnerable as she had days before. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying we’ve both tried to ignore this, and I think it’s time we explore it.”
God, he had no idea how good his words felt.
“Please have coffee with me tomorrow.”
The ball had advised her to go for coffee. Maybe this entire situation was meant to be. A little voice in her head warned her to be careful though. Trusting people is how you get hurt.
“Yes, I’d love to have coffee with you tomorrow,” she said, choosing to trust the Fortune Ball instead of her head. The excited chills that ran up Wren’s spine when Logan pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead confirmed she’d done right by listening to her round friend.
That night as she lay in bed, doubt trying to seep into her thoughts like poison, Wren used Logan’s words as weapons to ward off her apprehension. He’d felt that pull between them as well. Maybe it would be okay after all.
Chapter Nine
There Are Three Choices
“Coming,” Wren called as she hurried up the hall to the front door. Hoping that any of the awkwardness from the previous night would quickly disappear, she glanced at her watch. Ten o’clock, right on time. She sucked in a breath and opened the door.
“Good morning,” Logan greeted, a white puff of air visible due to the freezing temperatures. “Are you ready to go?” No hesitation, not a drop of reluctance. Perfectly normal, flirtatious, and sweet.
Sigh… even his breath was sexy. “Come on in. I need to grab my coat and purse. Then we can head out.”
The moment the door closed, her foyer seemed to mold itself to the man who occupied it. While obviously she had noticed Logan’s physical attributes at the club and bars, those venues hadn’t prepared her for how his presence would affect her in a smaller space. Her space. Nearly everyone was taller than Wren, but Logan stood over six feet tall. Damn, I should have worn heels. Her head tipped back to look him in the eyes.
“You’re staring.”
“Shit. Sorry, I was just realizing how damn big you are. Guess I didn’t notice it before,” she confessed.
“That’s because the times we met, you were wearing sexy-as-fuck heels.” His crooked grin sent a naughty message between Wren’s thighs. “Don’t worry, heels or not, I’ll have no problem getting to that mouth of yours. Trust me.”
Speechless. Wren was rendered speechless as she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat.
“Wren, I see you questioning all of this. Don’t. Go with what feels right. That’s what I’m doing… finally. Now grab your coat, honey, and let’s get out of here before coffee loses its appeal.”
Even though her body temperature was currently high enough to melt icebergs, Wren wrapped a scarf around her neck, slipped into her coat, and grabbed her purse before following Logan out the door. For once, she welcomed the cold January air to help cool her overheated skin.
“I’ve been wondering—did you ask the Fortune Ball if I could pick you up for our date?” Logan’s question suggested honest curiosity, which made Wren want to share the answer.
> “I did. Last night before I went to bed, just in case we needed to adjust the plans,” she admitted sheepishly. “But your kiss must have won over its little blue magical mind, judging by the Decidedly So that popped up.” She playfully rolled her eyes at Logan’s satisfied smirk.
When Logan opened the passenger door and helped Wren into his sporty two-door coupe, she sighed with pleasure.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She gestured to the door. “You’re a real gentleman, that’s all.”
“Hmm…” His brows pinched together as he closed her door, walked to the driver’s side, and sank into his seat quietly.
Did I do something wrong? The thought scurried through her head and left as quick as it came. For once, she knew she hadn’t said anything strange… or stranger than usual.
Once the engine was purring and the heat started to fill the cabin, Logan turned to Wren. “You confound me.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’re open and honest. You’re funny and quirky.” His words coated her like hot fudge over ice cream. “Where most women would ogle my friends or my car, you noticed that I opened your door. Christ, I’m not sure if I want to punch the men you’ve dated in the past or thank them for not being good enough to hold on to you.”
The guy was charming, funny, good-looking, and sweet. Could he be real? “Every time you say things like that, I get all melty inside, then I remember that you’re the guy who writes songs for a living. Not just songs, but some of the best damn songs of our generation. And by far the best love songs of any generation. I mean, I nearly died when Breaking Me Down played during the epic Chris Hemsworth love scene in that Charistown movie. You wrote that, Logan. You!” The enormity of who she was sitting next to set in as dragonflies fluttered in her belly.