“Hello, honey. I’m good, thank you. Did you get your sister’s email?”
I wince. “Uh, yeah. And I replied.”
“She said she sent you one more after that. I supposed you didn’t bother checking. Our meeting with the caterer for the final tasting got bumped up to tomorrow morning. I need to give him the final count. I should put you down for one, I presume.”
“Uh,” I start, feeling her judgment weigh down on me. It’s impressive, really, how she can be so condescending with so few words. “No. I’m bringing a date.”
Rebecca squeals in the background, and I wave my hand at her to shoo her away. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she goes into the house to get more wine.
“A date? Each plate costs well over a hundred dollars. If this date is just some fling, you might not be with a month from now—”
“We’re engaged.”
A few seconds of silence tick by. “What?”
“He’s, uh, my fiancé,” I say right as Rebecca comes back out, almost spilling the wine as she does an excited dance around the porch.
“W-when did this happen?” Mom stammers. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It, uh, happened recently, and I didn’t want to steal the spotlight from Diana. I know how big of a deal this wedding is for her.”
“It is a big deal, but so is you getting engaged. Who is this man? How did you meet? What does your ring look like?”
“What, Mom?” I shout. “I can’t hear you. I think I’m losing service. I’m driving through a cornfield right now. Yep. Can’t hear a thing. Talk to you later. Love you!”
I hang up and feel the blood leave my face. “I think she bought it. Grab your computer and let’s look for—” I shudder “—male escorts.”
Rebecca twists the cap off the Moscato and pours a bit in her glass before disappearing inside, returning a minute later with her laptop. “What do we even type in?” she asks, pulling up a search engine.
“Male escorts for hire? Legal ones. I do not want to get arrested for prostitution.”
“That’s always a good thing to avoid.” She types in the search, and we filter through results. The first site we check out is promising, and they have a few escorts located in the Chicago area.
“Ohhh, Stephan is a hottie!” I point to a dark-haired guy. Rebecca clicks on his profile, and we ogle over his shirtless pictures for a minute before checking his rates.
“Seventy-five hundred bucks for a weekend?” I blink, making sure I’m reading that right. “I should have been an escort.”
“You’re pretty enough.”
“Maybe I’ll consider it.”
“I’m pretty sure most people do expect sex, even though it says that’s a hard limit on the website.”
“Way to crush my dreams.” I shake my head. “Okay, let’s see if we can find one who’s not as good-looking. Maybe they’ll have a lower rate.”
None do, and I can’t afford to drop several grand on some stranger who’s supposed to fool my family into thinking we’re so in love and anxiously awaiting our own wedding date.
Rebecca closes the computer. “I was thinking…you could ask someone you’re already friends with.”
“All my friends are—no way. I’m not asking Logan.”
“Why not? You’re friends, right?”
I grip the stem of my wine glass, looking at the Moscato sloshing around inside. “Of course we are.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
The problems are endless, starting with the way he runs his hand through his hair, messing it up, which looks so sexy on him. Another problem is how fit and tan he is, and the way his muscles flexed as he moved those pavers today. The way sweat rolled down said muscles, practically forcing my eyes to check out his chiseled abdomen. But that’s not as problematic as the sharp V cut of muscle that disappears down his waistband.
Or the way that he’s both equally grumpy and one of the most thoughtful people on the planet, which makes him infuriatingly desirable.
“I guess there isn’t a problem.” I smile, bringing the glass of wine to my lips to try and cover up the color rushing to my cheeks. “Assuming he’d want to go with me.”
“It’s a free trip to Hawaii. Who wouldn’t want to go?”
“Someone sane.”
She playfully nudges me. “Just ask him. The worst he can say is no.”
Logan and I know each other well enough that we could easily pull off pretending to be a real couple. But Rebecca is wrong. Saying no isn’t the worst thing that can happen.
The worst will be him agreeing. Because I don’t know how well I can fake the feelings for him that I don’t want to admit I have.
Chapter 5
Logan
“Hey.” Danielle takes her purse off her shoulder as she walks through the back door of the bar. We’re getting ready to open, and she just got here for her shift. The heavy door closes with a whoosh behind her, sending her hair flying around her face. She reaches up to tame it, and the light yellow fabric of her sundress stretches up over her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, and I can see the faint outline of her nipple through the fabric.
I swallow hard, talk down my dick, and look away.
“Hey,” I say back. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. I’d say the same to you, but I don’t want to lie.” She flashes a grin and walks past me and into the office to put her purse away. I readjust the heavy box of booze I’m carrying, trying—and failing—to keep my thoughts PG.
“You look nice?” Owen stands in the threshold of the kitchen, shaking his head. “At this point, I don’t think you even want out of the friendzone.”
Ignoring him, I breeze right past and set the box down on the counter next to the walk-in refrigerator.
“I’m genuinely concerned for you,” Owen goes on. “When was the last time you got any pussy?”
It was a while ago, and he damn well knows it. The blind hookups were fun in our early twenties, but now it’s lost its appeal. Even before I met Danielle, I started feeling the longing to settle down, to have something serious and think about starting a family. I always knew I’d get married and have kids, but it always seemed so far away and out of reach.
Maybe it just took the right girl to give me that final shove out of the bachelor lifestyle.
“You do still like pussy right?” Owen goes on. “Or have you forgotten what it feels like to fuck all together?”
I give him a glare.
“I’ll help you out tonight.” He leans against the wall, watching me open the box and start moving the beer into the fridge. “I’ll do the work, get you a chick who wants to hook up, and then we can pull the old twin-switch.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“What? Afraid they’ll know it’s you the moment you fail to live up to the expectations I set?” He grins, proud of himself and thinking he’s actually being clever.
“I wonder how we’re related some days.”
Owen laughs. “Then why don’t you take Danielle home? Oh wait. You did. And you bored her to death, and she passed out on the couch.”
My jaw tenses when I think about that night. Of the way her soft and supple breasts felt pressed up against my chest. How her hair fell like a curtain over us both. Blood rushes to my cock, and I shift my weight, trying to derail my thoughts.
Because right now, they’re headed to a place of no return.
Just having her against me like that felt so fucking good. Kissing her would be even better. I blink and see her full lips in front of me as her tongue darts out and wets them both. I don’t think she was even aware of what she was doing as she leaned in closer and closer, as neither of us could resist the pull.
I clear my throat. “She’s said multiple times that she doesn’t want to date anyone until she gets her life together.”
Owen raises his eyebrows. “What does that even mean?”
My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug as I grab a few more beers t
o shelve. “Hell if I know. Maybe go back to grad school and get some fancy job?”
“Even I know that’s bullshit. She hated her life back in Greenwich. And you’re not just anyone. You happen to look just like me, and I’m one handsome fellow.”
I roll my eyes but end up laughing at Owen. “I can’t argue with that, even though we both know I’m the better-looking one. And I’m smarter.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Owen claps me on the back and leaves the kitchen, probably going to the bar to pour himself a drink and not actually do any work. I keep restocking the shelves as the bar opens, and a few of our regulars come in the second that neon open sign is turned on.
Opening for lunch on the weekends is a new thing for us and was Danielle’s idea. When Owen and I bought the place, it was purely a bar. We added the kitchen and slowly expanded the menu over the years. Transitioning from Getaway, just a bar, to Getaway Bar and Grill was something we had in mind from day one, but put off executing it until Danielle laid everything out in a rather impressive presentation. We make a lot of money just from lunch and dinner orders alone, and the food here is pretty fucking good if I do say so myself.
“Got plans for the weekend?” I ask Danielle.
“Oh, of course. I’ve got my calendar completely booked,” she laughs. “Which really means I’ll probably end up watching Netflix while scooping up egg salad from a bowl with cheese Pringles. Which I totally didn’t do last night.”
“That’s an interesting combination.”
“It was surprisingly good. I mean, I assume it would be if it weren’t too disgusting for me to try.” She flashes a pretty smile, and I’m back to needing a cold shower.
“How’s the job search going?”
She’s about to answer when one of our regulars walks up to the bar. “Hey, George.” She reaches under the bar for a glass. “Don’t tell me. Let me try to read your mind.” She sets the glass on the counter and closes her eyes. “An Old Fashioned and a side order of cheese fries.”
George gasps, throwing out his hands in fake shock. He orders the same thing every time he comes in, which is nearly every day. He’s a bit of a local legend around here, but his tale of war hero turned drunk doesn’t have the happy ending we all hoped for. Still, he’s as respected as he can be, and is one of the more polite drunks we have sitting at the bar day in and day out.
“I don’t know how you do it!”
Danielle laughs and starts making his drink. “It’s a gift. You know I almost considered running away and joining the circus as a psychic as a kid.” She finishes his drink and brings it over. “How are the grandkids? Have you been going over to see them like we talked about?”
For someone who doesn’t plan to stay in Eastwood for long, she sure gets along well here. I step away, getting a beer for another regular, and then go to one of the tables to take a food order and bring it to the kitchen. We’re going on two months of opening early, and we’ve been consistently busy. If things keep going the way they are, we plan on hiring another waitress or two as well as more help in the kitchen. Never in a million years did I think we’d make this much more just by opening in the early afternoon.
And it’s all thanks to Danielle.
“Uh-oh.” George slurps his drink. “The Sheriff is here. You up to no good again?” he asks Danielle.
She gives him a wink. “Always.”
Knowing my brother always stops in on Fridays to take food home for lunch, I already put in his order. I go back into the kitchen and grab it.
“Thanks,” he says and looks around. “It’s crowded already.”
“Yeah.” My eyes go to Danielle, watching her smile as she talks to Tommy Oaken. He’s leaning over the bar, eyes flitting away from Danielle’s to stare at her tits. “It was a good idea to open for lunch. We might start opening early on weekdays too.”
She laughs, reaching out to touch his arm. Something tightens in my stomach. I clench my jaw and look away. I’m not jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous of, right?
Dammit.
I’ve never been a good liar.
“Logan?” Wes repeats in a tone that lets me know he’s said my name more than once.
“Yeah?” I turn my attention back to Wes, and a small smile plays on his lips as he follows my gaze. He’s not one to meddle and is my only sibling who hasn’t given me shit over my lack of relationship with Danielle. But that look in his eyes is almost as bad as Quinn and Scarlet forcing us under mistletoe three times last Christmas.
“Never mind.” He takes the bag of takeout and gets up to leave but turns back to face me. “You’re smart. Second smartest in the family after Quinn. So stop being stupid.”
Chapter 6
Danielle
I’m fairly sure the reason the universe never granted me magical powers is because it knew I’d use them in nefarious ways. Like that speeding ticket I got a few weeks ago? I’d make the cop think he was giving me a ticket when all he was handing me was a blank sheet of paper. The shoes I’ve been eyeing but can’t afford would ring up at half the price and no one would be none the wiser.
And this guy sitting in front of me?
This lying, cheating, slimy bastard?
I’d turn him into a rat. No…that’s an insult to rodents everywhere. They’re kind of cute with their little whiskers and the way they hold things in their tiny hands when they eat.
Maybe I’d turn him into a worm. Oh—no, I’ve got a better idea. A stink bug that just happens to be flying over the freeway when a semi-truck barrels down the road and smacks right into him, smearing him all over the—well, now I know why I don’t have cool powers.
I turn away from the table, fake smile disappearing from my face the moment my back is turned. James Hills has a wife. A wife who just found out she’s expecting a baby boy. I know because she told me when I saw her at the farmer’s market just a few days ago.
“Getting comfy over there?” Logan asks, eyes going to Tommy, who’s sitting at the bar, and then back to me.
“What?”
“You two seemed friendly.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I guess? I talk to all my customers. I get better tips that way.”
“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrows. “You sure it’s just for tips?”
Logan gets moody like this every now and then, and usually I dismiss it until he’s back to normal. But today I feel like pushing.
“Yeah, for tips. I’m not exactly making bank as a bartender, and I’m trying to build my savings.” I put my hand on my hip and take a deep breath, making my breasts rise and fall under my dress. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”
“Jealous,” he snorts. “Jealous of Tommy Oaken. That guy’s a loser.”
“Then you won’t care if I go on a date with him tomorrow night?”
“You’re working tomorrow night.”
“Then the next day.” I keep my face neutral, reading Logan’s expression. I don’t have a date with Tommy, nor do I want one. But he did ask me out, which is more than I can say for Logan. Maybe I should go out with Tommy just to get back out there in the dating game.
“Fine,” Logan huffs. “At least you’d be going out with someone.”
He gathers a few empty glasses and takes them back into the kitchen to put them in the sink.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, following behind him.
“It means you’ve been swearing up and down since the moment you got here that you hate men and don’t want to date anyone.”
“I never said I hate men. I think. I mean, I might have. Because guys are jerks.”
“We’re not all jerks,” he spits, eyes clouding with anger. “By all means, go out with Tommy fucking Oaken. But if you want to date a guy who’s not a jerk, then don’t go out with that fucker.” Logan goes into the walk-in fridge, slamming the door shut behind him. Balling my fingers into fists, I march right in after him.
“Why do you care who I go out with?”
“Seriously?” He puts the cut of hamburger meat he was holding back onto the shelf.
“Yeah.” I let out a breath and feel a chill creep down my back already.
Logan’s eyes drill into mine with a fire I’ve never seen before. It cuts right through me, chilling me more than the cold air billowing around us. He strides forward, and I step back, pinning myself against the closed door of the fridge. Cold metal kisses my skin, and goosebumps break out along my flesh.
Logan doesn’t stop until his hips are right up against mine. My lips part and I inhale, but I still get no air. His face is inches from mine, and I can’t take my eyes off his lips.
“What are we?” he asks.
I slowly shake my head. “We’re uh, friends?”
“That’s all you want?”
“Yeah. You’re my best friend, Logan. What’s wrong with that?” I hate the words that are coming out of my mouth, but admitting I want more, that I could easily fall in love with him, terrifies me.
“Maybe I am stupid,” he starts, tipping his head down. “Or maybe I’ve been too fucking nice.” He brings one arm up, bicep flexing, and pushes my hair back over my shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” My voice comes out thin, and my breath clouds around us.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And I don’t want to do this anymore.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I inhale again, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen because suddenly I can’t remember how to breathe. A warmth spreads through me, starting in my stomach and rushing over every inch of me. It settles between my legs, and the longing I’ve felt for Logan Dawson, the feelings I’ve ignored and pushed away, threaten to break down the gates.
“Then don’t,” I whisper.
Just when I think Logan is going to kiss me, when I can let my body finally cave into what I’ve been craving since the moment I laid eyes on Logan, he pushes off the door and goes back to the shelf.
Blinking, I bring my arms up and wrap them around myself, unable to stop shivering now. With an armload of beer I know we don’t need to put in the mini fridge at the bar, Logan storms toward the door. I move out of the way, still not sure exactly what happened.
Cheap Trick: A Dawson Family Novel Page 4