“It wasn’t your fault.” The words floated out of me as if they had a mind of their own.
His arms tightened around me. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us. But I was positive that my heart was guiding me to do the right thing.
“Her last year should have been filled with life and not dying in a hospital,” he whispered.
I pulled away, but his arms stayed around my waist. Our faces were only a few inches apart.
“Life can really suck sometimes,” I whispered.
Logan raised his hand to my face and caressed my cheek with his knuckles. His gaze was locked with mine. I summoned all of my strength and counselling skills. My hug was meant to give comfort to someone I knew was hurting. It wasn’t meant to be a come on. I stepped out of his arms and returned to my stool. Logan looked disappointed, but I had a feeling he understood my actions.
“Once the shock wore off about my parents, I racked my brain trying to make sense of it all. I didn’t want to believe it was just happenstance that they were at the same intersection as the meth-head driver who crashed into them. It hurt too much to be random.”
“Did you ever figure out the why?”
Looking into a pair of caring blue eyes, I said, “No. Not yet anyway.”
“I saw a lot of happy on the faces of the kids today. All put there by you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. There were a lot of smiling female tweens because of you.”
“You help these kids forget for a while how hard life can be, because you know firsthand.”
“Have you ever figured out the why about your sister?”
“No. Not yet anyway.”
Something passed between us in that moment. I couldn’t quite put a name on it. Kindred spirits, maybe. All I knew was this night had taken a turn in a dangerous direction. Logan was not just a hot guy who had been turning me on since high school. He was a person who had experienced the highs and lows of life. A person who understood the pain of losing a loved one and its aftermath.
“Why are you here, Logan?”
Without wavering, he said, “You.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Come again.”
“I like you, Lip Smacker.”
A shiver ran down my spine at his admission. I had to keep reminding myself that this ceasefire was only for tonight. I could not and would not get caught up in his caring eyes and soft lips. Not that I knew firsthand that they were soft. They just looked soft. Really soft. He must exfoliate then apply some type of manly moisturizer.
“Thank you.”
One second after the words came out of my mouth I wanted to shove them down my throat. The first time in three years a guy I’m attracted to admits he was attracted to me too, and my comeback was not sassy or provocative. It was lame, just like me at this type of thing.
At twenty-eight years old, I’ve only had two of what I considered serious relationships. There was Gellert, an exchange student from Hungary. He spoke very little English and was exotic. We met in college, first semester of freshmen year. By Christmas break, we were broken up.
I found out that Gellert’s family had indeed come to the United States from Hungary. What he failed to mention in the four months we were together was that he was third generation American born and had grown up in Hoboken, New Jersey. I didn’t know the Hungarian language, so I never questioned his gibberish. Although, looking back he did use the word goulash a lot.
For the rest of my college life I dated a few guys a few times, but nothing epic. Then at twenty-five along came John. I will not use his last name to protect his privacy. Monroe. John Monroe. Fuck his privacy. Let’s see, how would I describe John? In a word, asshole.
It was the year after the accident. John and I had met at a bar. He was tall and said all the right things. I was lonely and a little tipsy. I don’t remember there being a declaration of our relationship status. It just happened. The six weeks were fantastic. I was convinced I had found Mr. Right. Then a series of unfortunate events happened.
John lost his job as a financial officer at one of the big banks in Charleston. When I asked what happened he gave some vague story about a misunderstanding. The truth was, John drank. A lot. He had shown up to work late and intoxicated several times. I felt so stupid. How do you date a guy and be clueless of his alcoholism? You turn a blind eye and rationalize everything he does, that’s how. John was an escape from my grief. I focused on him when our relationship was good and when it was bad.
I stayed with him because that’s what relationships were all about. You’re there for the good times as well as the bad. Time passed and things got worse. John couldn’t find a job, he drank more, and became verbally abusive to me. For an entire year I listened to him call me every horrible name in the book. At some point I started believing I was those things. By the time of the choking incident, I had completely lost myself.
I kept all of this a secret from my grandparents. I felt pathetic enough, I didn’t need them to know just how pathetic. Then one day they stopped by my place by surprise and walked in on John screaming at me with his hand in midair, ready to strike. He was no match for Pop and Wavy. The police were called, a restraining order obtained, and the first step was taken toward finding myself again. Logan isn’t John, and I’m not that vulnerable lonely girl anymore.
“God, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I’m not very smooth when it comes to this kind of thing. I don’t even know why I said, thank you. I should have followed it up with a clever quip. But wouldn’t you know, when I really needed one my mind went blank. People don’t realize how difficult it is to come up with a great quip in the moment. I’m sure in an hour I’ll be loaded with them. Did I mention I like you too? Because I really do. I know we have this differing of opinions regarding the bakery, but maybe we could put that aside for the weekend and get to know each other better. Oh, dear God, you did mean you liked me, liked me, didn’t you? Because if you meant as a friend I—”
From out of nowhere, a strawberry was pushed into my mouth.
While I was sucking on fruit, I realized I had made a personal commitment to a ceasefire for one night. But on second thought, it was just a weekend. Two short days. First thing Monday morning, I would go back to being Lip Smacker, tough businesswoman, immune to Logan Heath.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Logan said.
With the strawberry lodged between my lips, I muttered, “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s very good.”
The corners of my mouth perked up around the fruit. We stared at each other. Man, I wanted to touch him again and I wanted him to touch me. Logan’s gaze dropped to my lips before a huge smile spread across his face. It was then that I realized I had the green stem of the strawberry hanging out of my mouth. I bit down on the berry and then spit out the stem into my hand, which in hindsight was not very lady-like.
“Sorry. I’m not usually that pedestrian.”
“You gotta little juice right here.” Logan brought his hand up and ran his thumb across my chin. My eyes closed slightly, enjoying his touch and the feeling of being taken care of.
Clearing his throat, Logan dropped his hand. “Lip, I think we should head to our respective cabins.”
I wanted to stay here with Logan all night talking, flirting, and blurring the line of sanctioned activities. By the look on his face, I had not done a good job of hiding my disappointment.
“Sure.” I hopped off of the stool and put the lid back on the tray. “I’ll just clean this up and we’ll be on our respective ways.”
Picking up the tray, I headed toward the fridge. I could feel Logan’s gaze on me as I placed it back on the shelf. I stood there staring into the opened appliance trying to put on a happy face. I closed the door and turned around with a tight smile. Logan was standing in my path. If I went around to the other side of the island it would be too obvious that I was trying to avoid him. I had no choice but to walk past him.
When I got close, he posit
ioned himself directly in front of me, blocking my way.
“Excuse me,” I said sarcastically.
“The reason we need to go is, I’m having a hard time sticking to the no coed fraternization rules.”
I do declare, he gave me the vapors with that admission.
“So, you have urges?”
“I got urges,” he said biting his lower lip.
“And you’re holding them back because of the kids?”
He tucked some of my loose hair behind my ear. “All for the kids.”
We stayed in this position for several seconds. Playing tug of war between the right thing to do and the very wrong thing to do. I summoned all my willpower, slipped past Logan, and walked to the door.
Flustered, I said, “Could you get the lights?”
“Um…I’ll get the lights.”
I leaned back on the open door as the room went dark. The only light was the amber glow of the campsite lighting. Logan walked over and placed his left hand above my head, holding the edge of the door. His fucking watch hovering overhead had my hoo-hah heating up.
“Kitchen cleaned, lights out, no one around. I guess we should go?” I said.
“It seems to be that time.”
I pushed off of the door and handed the keys to Logan. “Can we forget that I used the words urge and kids in the same sentence? Now that I play it back in my head, it feels inappropriate to have mentioned them while deciding whether or not to fraternize.”
“You got it, Slugger.”
He locked the door and we went to our respective cabins like two mature adults.
THE NEXT MORNING I woke up giddy and excited. It had been a long time since anyone had elicited a spark of hope and anticipation. The probability of this ending badly did not enter my realm of reality. I wanted to feel special for the next two days and Logan did just that. He had shown me another side of himself. Sure the buyout was looming over us, but I was not going to give up a chance to spend time getting to know him.
Logan was not a cold stuffy businessman who was only interested in the bottom dollar. Each day I witnessed more of the kindness he had shown in high school. Then last night he opened up about his sister. A person would have to be downright ruthless to use the death of someone, especially a family member, in order to close a business deal. He could not be acting anymore.
“They don’t call me The Closer for nothing.”
The sentence hurled itself into my consciousness. I had moments when I leaned into the gloom and doom of situations. Surely I was just being neurotic. Last night his expression was genuine as he spoke from the heart about his sister. The pull I felt from him was real. I needed to live in the moment and enjoy what little time I had left to pretend Logan was my guy.
I took a shower, hoping it would calm me down before I headed out for breakfast. It helped a little, but that insipid sentence kept pushing its way to the forefront of my brain.
“They don’t call me The Closer for nothing.”
Before getting dressed I opened Spotify on my phone and clicked on my Beyoncé playlist. If anyone understood relationships it was Queen B. I got lost in the upbeat rhythm of “Love On Top” as I pulled on my sleeveless olive green jumpsuit and slipped into my tan sandals. I gathered my curls into a topknot then applied light makeup. I finished with poking small gold hoop earrings into my lobes. The outfit was dressier than my usual T-shirt and jeans, but still casual.
Slinging my decorating bag over one shoulder, I scanned the room, making sure I didn’t forget anything. I gripped the doorknob and took several deep breaths. I was not delusional about what I felt last night. I needed to snap out of my paranoid, suspicious mood.
Don’t overthink it, Lip. Relax and enjoy.
Stepping out onto the front porch of the cabin, I immediately spotted Logan heading toward me. The sunlight was surrounding his body, giving it an extra glow, like a halo. It was nearly impossible for him not to stand out among the rest of the world. He was in the same white tennis shoes from yesterday, only today his cargo shorts were black, and his T-shirt white, showing off his deep tan. Flutters consumed my insides at the sight of him. But it wasn’t just his appearance that made him attractive. Good looking guys were a dime a dozen. The deep soulful look in Logan’s eyes let me know he was more than just a pretty face.
I tamped down the flutters as best I could. I was a strong woman who could control her emotions while giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. With my head held high and my back stiff, I confidently stepped toward the top of the stairs, and then I panicked. Pretending not to notice him, I quickly ran down the steps and power walked my way in the direction of the dining hall. I could not figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Seconds ago I was a strong woman, in control, focused on the kids, ready to enjoy the weekend with Logan by my side. Within seconds I turned tail, running away like that awkward teenager from high school.
“Lip!” Logan called out.
His smooth baritone voice hit my ears as the sound of his footsteps got louder and closer behind me. I picked up the pace. Arms pumping. Heart pumping. Lungs pumping. Head throbbing. I wasn’t out of shape. It was just that parts of me were in better shape than other parts. One example, my hands were extremely fit from all the frosting bag squeezing. Unfortunately, that was pretty much it. The only way to get away from Logan was to run. That wasn’t an option because it would look as if I wanted to get away from him. Which I did, at least until I could pull myself back together.
“Lip Smacker, wait up!” Logan slow jogged up beside me then matched my pace.
“Oh, hey,” I said nonchalantly.
“Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been calling your name. I was headed to your cabin. I thought we could walk to the dining hall together.”
“Well, it looks like you got your wish.” The words had a little too much bite.
Logan stepped in front of me, halting my progress. “Is everything okay?”
If I made direct eye contact with him then he would know something was up. His chest was eye level, so I stared at that. His hard cut chest.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’re acting weird.”
“I’m not a morning person,” I said as I sidestepped him and continued my pilgrimage.
God, he smelled good. Alpine fresh. I inadvertently glanced at him. His hair was damp, textured, and sticking up a little on top, like he had raked his fingers through the dark locks seconds before stepping out into the world. No doubt this was from a manly morning shower. The blazing hot water rolling down his muscular chest. Little droplets desperately clinging to his tanned skin. Steam rising and swirling up his toned legs, over his perfect ass, and all the way up his back. His sudsy hands gliding over every chiseled—
Shit!
Out of nowhere a huge tree root shot up in the middle of my path. I stumbled forward, weaving back and forth trying to maintain my upright status. I felt the tug of my bag a second before my arm slipped out of the strap and I did a less than graceful face plant onto the sandy gravel trail. I laid as still as possible in the beginning pushup position, praying no one saw me. Of course, that was the hope of a crazy person and soon the pipe dream smashed to smithereens.
“Jesus, Lip!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my decorating bag drop to the ground then Logan’s sneakers, then Logan’s knee.
“Are you hurt?” There was panic in his voice. “Does it feel like anything is broken?”
Spitting dirt out of my mouth, I mumbled, “Nothing…” Ptooey. “Feels…” Ptooey. “Broken…” Ptooey.
With a cautious touch Logan helped me turn over onto my back. His concerned expression caught me off guard and melted my heart at the same time.
“Can you sit up?” he said.
“I think so.”
As I lifted my head, he slipped his hand behind my neck, supporting me until I was in the upright position. He began examining me for injuries. Slowly he ran his hand over my shoulders, down my arms t
o my hands, squeezing gently. Then he carefully removed my sandals and checked each foot, ankle, calf, knee, and thigh. With each touch my temperature rose to the point at which heat stroke was a real possibility.
“Fuck,” Logan said under his breath. “I’m so sorry. I should have gotten to you quicker. I thought once I grabbed the strap to your bag it would keep you from falling.”
“It’s not your fault. It was me being too caught up in my head to watch where I was going.”
“But if I had grabbed your arm instead…”
I lifted my hand to his cheek. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“My ego is a little bruised, but other than that, yes.”
He gave me the hint of a smile before leaning back, and lifting his T-shirt over his head.
Hello!
Once the shirt was off, Logan raised it to my chin and dusted the sand away that was stuck. After my face was clear of debris, he wiped my elbows, arms, and hands off. I let him do it because in that moment I didn’t feel like being strong. I wanted someone to take care of me and I wanted that someone to be Logan.
IF THERE WERE NOT a room full of campers waiting on me, I would have spent the entire day letting Logan examine me. I had a hard time remembering the last time a guy was more interested in my wellbeing than his own. I was surprised at how much I liked it and craved more of it. Over the years I had convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone else but Wavy. But getting a taste of what life could be like without always having to carry the burden solo showed me how much I wanted someone. Logan? Doubtful. The reality was he was in my life because he had a job to do. But maybe he was also here to show me it was time to open my heart.
My mighty fall put me behind in setting up the decorating stations, even with Logan’s help. Luckily, the first session was made up of the older kids who helped. They provided a decent buffer between me and Logan. I felt his gaze on me every ten minutes or so, not in a creepy way, but in a caring way. And like the night before, Logan pitched in where needed like an old pro. Again, he interacted with ease and comfort. My heart softened when I saw him helping Ricky, the shy, ten-year-old dark haired boy who had lost his dad six months ago in Afghanistan.
Lip Smacker Page 9