“There’s a customer out there.” I pointed my thumb in the direction of the shop. “So, let’s put a pin in this chat and take it out. Never.”
Dear God, let this be a customer with a big order, I thought, as I walked through the swinging door.
CROSSING THE THRESHOLD, I looked up to find that I did indeed have a customer. She was scantily clad in a form-fitting pale blue mini dress that barely covered her shapely ass, which sat atop long tanned legs, which ended with a pair of five-inch nude heels. Entering the shop, she coquettishly flipped her brown highlighted hair back and forth as she walked, breasts first, in the direction of a seated Logan. High-pitched laughter filled the air, causing my already hot blood to boil over. I forced my legs toward the counter, my fingers curling with each step.
“He’s not on the menu,” I blurted out.
The laughter stopped and they both turned their perfect faces in my direction.
“What’s that?” she chirped.
“I said, can I help you?”
Note to self: Clip fingernails. They’re really cutting into my palms.
She sauntered over, making sure Logan got a nice demonstration of her hip action.
With flushed cheeks, she tucked a wad of her over processed hair behind her sizable ear, and said in a hushed tone, “I need to use your bathroom.”
“Come again?”
She glanced over her shoulder then leaned in closer to me. “I need to use your bathroom.”
Looking past her, I noticed Logan staring, but not at her. He was focused on me and not in a businessy way. It was more like, Lip, you are so much hotter than this chick, way. At least, that was the vibe I got. My head was swimming from being angry, the sex talk, and now my shocking jealousy.
There were two ways to handle this situation. I could be petty, tell her we did not have a bathroom, and send her scrambling out the door before the great flood. Or I could be an adult, conduct myself like any good business person would, and allow her to use the facilities.
With a pleasant smile and projecting my voice loud enough for all to hear, I said, “I’m sorry, we only allow paying customers to take a piss or poop in our bathroom.”
I decided straight down the middle was best.
Her expression was either angry or confused. It was hard to tell behind all her makeup.
“But the electrolysis place down the street, you probably know the one I’m talking about, has an open door policy. Oh, wait a second, that placed closed.” Tapping my chin with my finger, I said at a snail’s pace, “Hmm…there…has…got…to…be…someplace…where…you…can…use…the…bathroom.”
With each word her big brown eyes got even bigger and panic stricken. Her legs were hidden by the counter, but I had a feeling in about fifteen seconds they would be crossed. By the sizable effort it took to stifle his laughter, Logan appeared to be enjoying himself.
Miss Piss squirmed. “I was just out stretching my legs, so I don’t have my purse. I’m the onsite receptionist for Harper Investments. You know, the company doing all the construction around here? My office is just a block away. I promise, I’ll come back and buy a cupcake if you let me use your bathroom. Now! Please!”
“I really wish I could. It’s just, if I make an exception for you then I’ll have to make an exception for the next person, and so on, and so on. It’s a slippery slope.”
She tossed her head back, laughing and pretending we were having a female bonding experience. Obviously for Logan’s sake.
In an attempt to appeal to my romantic side, she said, “Look, I’m trying to get that hot guy over there interested.”
“In what?”
Her bright pink lips pursed into a straight line before she answered, “Me.”
“Oh. Okay, I’m all caught up now.”
“We’ve been flirting for weeks,” she continued.
“Really? What does that look like?”
“I give him a tilt of my head, a big smile, and a flutter of my eyelashes whenever he passes my desk.”
“And his response?” I asked bracing myself for the answer.
“He smiles and wishes me a good morning or afternoon, depending on what time of day it is. I think he’s trying to keep our sexual chemistry on the down low since I’m twenty-one and he’s thirty. Plus, I guess technically he’d be considered kind of my supervisor and you have to be very careful nowadays. Well, you don’t, but in big successful corporations you do. Seriously, I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. I used to walk in on my dad chasing his secretary around his desk all the time. It looked like a lot of fun.”
“It was fun for one of them,” I said.
“We’re in a very delicate phase of our relationship—”
“You and me?”
“No. Logan and I. He only knows the fantasy version of me.”
My brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s only seen the perfectly put together me. He doesn’t know I eat, or brush my teeth, or—”
“Go to the bathroom.”
“Right. Now you get it. I’ll say I have to powder my nose then slip in and out without him knowing what I really went in there for.” She began to bounce. It was slight and almost undetectable, but she was definitely getting ready to blow.
“I hear ya.”
“Awesome, because I’m on the verge of pissing my pants. So, you’ll let me use your bathroom?”
“Sorry, it’s only for paying customers.”
“Fuck you!” she snapped, then turned on her high heels and duck waddled quickly out the door.
That girl may hate me now, but someday she will understand the huge favor I just did her. The perfect time to show your flaws and bodily habits was in the beginning of a relationship. The other person’s senses and brain function are so clouded in a mist of lust and infatuation that absolutely anything you do during this time will come off as adorable. I predict a future of some pretty serious gastrointestinal problems for Miss Piss if she continues on her path.
I had been so focused on Miss Piss that I had not noticed Logan standing at the counter, also watching her leave.
“Your friend has quite a potty mouth on her,” I said.
“That was very entertaining.”
“You enjoyed that, did ya?”
“Very much.”
“Then why don’t you follow her? I’m sure she’d be happy to ‘entertain’ your brains out all day.”
He turned, bringing us face to face. “I was talking about you.”
“Me?”
“You like me,” he said smugly.
“I think you inhaled too much of your girlfriend’s cheap perfume.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“You might want to tell her that.”
“I saw the look on your face when you spotted Amber talking to me.”
“Of course her name is Amber.”
“You didn’t like it.”
“I’m not running a pick-up joint.”
“You were jealous,” he said in a sing-song way.
“Oh my God, you are delusional.”
“I beg to differ.”
Logan headed to the back counter to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. On his way back he made a pit stop directly behind me, close enough that I could feel his chest brush against my back.
Leaning down he whispered in my ear, “By the way, Lip, it was hot.”
Shivers ripped through my body like a tornado. That son of a bitch read me like a book. I had to check myself whenever Logan was around. In theory, I hated him. No, hate was too harsh a word. I intensely disliked him. But it was easy to forget that when he looked at me and said things that could be interpreted as sexy.
Logan went back to his spot in the corner. While something on his laptop caught his attention, he sipped his coffee. Absolutely no sign that our exchange had affected him. For all I knew Miss Piss could have been a plant, someone he hired to raise my hackles. I needed to remember this moment. Remember that he c
ould turn it on and off at will. His charm was nothing more than a means to an end. In the immortal words of T. Swift: Playas gonna play, play, play.
THERE WAS NO SIGN of Logan the entire day, no texts, no phone calls. Nothing. I hated to admit that I was kind of disappointed, but not for the reason you might think. I wanted to test out my new ironclad will that I had developed. No more jealous overreacting, no shivers, no swooning, no showing of emotion of any kind. I was impervious to one Logan Heath.
With no Logan and very few customers, the day dragged, making it feel longer than usual. I was ready to get out of there and go have dinner with Wavy. I grabbed my purse and headed out the back door. After locking up, I turned and my heart skipped a beat. Logan was leaning against the back of my car. His hands filled the pockets of a pair of dark khaki cargo shorts, and an untucked white polo shirt stretched across his chest. The pair of blindingly white sneakers he wore popped next to his tan, muscular legs.
Was there any part of this man’s body that was not perfect? He probably had a small dick. At least that was what I kept telling myself to divert my mind to other less lascivious thoughts. Although, I suppose a small dick was better than no dick at all. Maybe he had a really bad case of gingivitis.
“Ah, Miss Smacker,” Logan said with excitement.
“Ah, Mr. Heath,” I said, walking toward my car.
“You are just the person I’ve been waiting for.”
I opened the driver’s side door and tossed my purse inside. “You are just the person I didn’t want to see.”
That was a lie. I wanted to see him, but only for the purposes of testing my new ironclad will.
Logan lay his palm to his chest. “You flatter me.”
“What do you want or do I even need to ask?”
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Come again.”
“Would you like to go to dinner?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“And this would be to discuss the Harper offer?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Eh, if it comes up, it comes up.”
I studied him momentarily, collecting as much data as possible in order to determine whether or not his devil-may-care attitude was all a ruse. My gaze traveled down his body, then up, then down again. I wanted to make sure I had not missed any subtle signs in his body language. Everything looked good and safe enough to proceed.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
He pushed off of the car and turned to face me. “Intriguing.”
“I’ll listen to your spiel.”
“I like it so far.”
“But you have to accept whatever decision I make, no questions asked, then leave me alone.”
He took a step closer. “Do you really want me to leave you alone?”
“Don’t get cute with me.”
“I’ll stop if you will.”
Tingles engulfed every nook and cranny of my body. I wasn’t sure if it was my lack of sex or a special connection with Logan that caused my reaction. All I knew was he had the power to set my hoo-hah humming with very few words.
“Do you accept my offer?”
He hesitated for several seconds before extending his hand to shake. “Deal.”
When our skin touched that same electric jolt ran through me. I yanked my hand back, thus implementing the ironclad wall. Not wanting to play my hand (ha-ha) and come off cold and aloof, I acted as if I needed that hand. I pulled out the purple scrunchie from my hair, releasing a cascade of loose curls that landed on my shoulders. Logan stared as his Adam’s apple took a slow ride down his neck.
“Didn’t your mother teach you that a southern gentleman never stares? It’s impolite,” I said, smiling on the inside.
While Logan was apparently at a loss for words, I got into my ten-year-old red SUV, started the engine, and rolled down my window.
“Wait a second. Where do you want to go for dinner?” he asked.
“Follow me.”
Logan opened his mouth to say something at the exact moment I cranked up the radio. I felt it best to keep my nemesis guessing as much as possible. “This” by local son, Darius Rucker, poured from my car, drowning out any potential protest from Logan. With a squinted eye, I aimed the scrunchie directly at Logan and fired, slingshot style. Pulling out of my parking spot, I looked in the rearview mirror to find him smiling and holding the purple scrunchie.
Though Wavy’s name was not on any of the legal documents for the bakery, I considered her my partner. And even if she felt it might be a good idea to sell, when it came down to it she would support whatever decision I made. If Logan wanted to talk business, then he would have to deal with both Smacker women.
Fifteen minutes later I was pulling into the driveway of my townhouse, which happened to be across the street from Wavy’s place: the same little white house she’d lived in forever that held so many memories.
Twenty-five years ago this section of town was a mixture of well-kept older homes and well-worn dilapidated ones. Then the area went through a renaissance. The homes that were worth renovating and updating, were. Those that were too far gone were torn down, replaced with brand new single family homes and townhomes. Unlike Harper Investments, the developer stayed true to the beautiful historic architecture. Recognizing this was a good investment, Pop and Wavy tipped off my parents, who got in on the ground floor of the upscale townhomes, one of which was now mine.
By the time I got out of the car, Logan was pulling up behind me. I was impressed with his tailing abilities, especially since I had a decent head start. He walked toward me, curious and confused.
Lifting my arm like a gameshow model, I announced, “Welcome to my humble abode.”
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you brought me back to your place.”
“Think again, buddy boy. While I go inside to freshen up you can perch your pretty self on my front steps.”
“I get it. You’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself.”
“Au contraire.”
Halfway up the flight of stairs, I glanced back, catching Logan in the act of ogling my assets, if you know what I mean. As a feminist I was officially offended, but it gave me an idea. Since Logan was using his manly machinations to influence me, it seemed only fair that I use my womanly wiles to thwart him. Plus, it made me feel sexy.
I didn’t have much time, so I kept the same jeans on but changed out of my T-shirt and into my light green off-the-shoulder top. I reapplied lip gloss and shook my head to make my curls extra poofy. I made a quick stop in the kitchen to grab what I needed for the Caesar salad then I was out the door.
As I was stepping out onto my porch, Logan got up and turned toward me. I was no mind reader, but by his expression I would say my wiles were workin’. Logan was a complete gentleman, carrying the bag of salad fixings as we crossed the street. During the short walk I did not hint once as to where we were going. To his credit, Logan went with the flow.
I loved living in the townhouse, but only because it was directly across the street from Wavy. Each time I walked up the brick steps to her front door, it felt like home.
A half hour and a glass of wine later, Wavy was pulling from the oven a cheesy Marzetti casserole while I finished up the salad. Since it was usually just Wavy and me, we always ate in the small kitchen at the table for two. But tonight with Logan joining us we moved things to the formal dining room, sitting around the large antique mahogany table. My grandparents were not extravagant people. For the most part the home was modestly furnished. But there were a few fancy pieces, like this table and the matching china cabinet and buffet.
Wavy had been regaling Logan with tales of yesteryear.
“Oh, we had many wonderful meals around this table,” she said. “When Lip was just a little thing, she’d come help us decorate our Christmas tree. Do you remember that?”
“Of course I do. It’s how I developed my love for the grilled cheese
sandwich and hot chocolate combo.”
“That’s what we’d have for supper,” she continued.
“And at some point during the evening, Pop would sing.”
Wavy placed her hand on Logan’s arm. “You have to understand, Leon was a conservative man.”
“An accountant,” I added.
“Always wore a suit.”
“To work?” Logan said.
“Everywhere,” I corrected.
“Well, not a full suit everywhere. But he always had on a necktie, except when he went to bed, of course,” Wavy said.
I picked up the story. “Since he was so quiet and conservative, when he sang it was doubly funny.”
“Do you remember the song, Lip?”
“The cow went moo, and the chick went cluck, and the duck went quack, quack, quack all the way home.” I sang in a slow disjointed manner, imitating Pop. I sounded like a really awful rapper.
“That doesn’t sound like any holiday song I ever heard,” Logan said, enjoying our trip down memory lane.
“It doesn’t sound like a song!” I laughed.
“Yes, young man, you’re being very generous calling that a song. It was just some silly thing Leon made up.”
Logan took a sip of water. “Sounds like he was full of the holiday spirit.”
“And whiskey!” Wavy and I said in unison.
More laughter filled the room. It was nice seeing Wavy enjoying herself. There had not been anyone new sitting around this table in a long time. And if I didn’t know better, I would say Logan was also having a good time.
“Don’t get the wrong impression, young man. Leon Smacker was a great man who loved his family more than anything.”
“I wish I could have met him,” Logan said.
A twinge of longing flashed across Wavy’s face as she looked at Logan. Then it dawned on me. He was sitting in the chair at the head of the table that had always been designated for Pop.
I stood, wanting to steer Wavy down a different path. “Everyone ready for dessert?”
“Always,” Logan said. “Let me guess…cupcakes?”
I gathered everyone’s plate. “Wrong, college boy. Banana pudding.”
I went into the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. As I was taking the pudding out of the fridge I heard Logan’s deep voice in the other room.
Lip Smacker Page 5