Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (38 page)

The mocha-colored eyes blinked slowly. “No, it’s not. I can find another job, but I can’t find another you.”

This was impossible. Here he was, willing to fall on his sword for me and give me exactly what I wanted. But how could I let him do that? How would he not resent me if I allowed this?

“No,” I said. “Just wait a minute.”

“I can’t do another day of this. I tried not to fall in love with you, but you made that impossible. I can’t rein this back in. And I don’t want to.”

He was only inches from my face, gazing at me, and he hadn’t moved. I’d been the one to close the distance between us. Logan had lost control over his carefully maintained self, because of me.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “We’re both too determined not to, so don’t go quitting in the meantime. I just need a few more days to accept what happened.”

“You don’t have to. Let me make it right.”

“Wait,” I said, frantic. “Logan, just wait.” And I think my panicked voice echoed that night when I’d been strapped to the table and unable to follow him. His hand slipped behind my neck, cradling my head into his kiss that was exactly like our first, magnified a thousand percent. Slow. Seductive. Filled with so much love and intensity I was powerless to stop my surrender.

“I’d wait forever for you,” he uttered and returned to his task of shutting my brain down with the simple touch of his lips.

My hands came to rest on his jaw, gritting against the stubble there when I eased it back. I held his face in my hands, his eyes on mine. And in this moment, I knew we would be all right. He was willing to give everything up for me, and I knew I’d give everything up for him, if I had to.

“Give me the weekend,” I said. “Don’t do anything until Monday.”

Disappointment ringed his eyes. “The weekend? You’re not coming Sunday?” Because Sunday was the marathon.

“I don’t know,” I lied, and hoped it was convincing, since a plan was rapidly taking shape in my mind. He’d caught me completely off balance when he’d taken off my blindfold, and a little part of me hungered to do the same to him.

He let me slip from his hold, confirming again he wouldn’t do anything foolish before we spoke again on Monday. I hurried to my cube, ignoring the dirty looks. They could go fuck themselves. I didn’t need that supervisor position. This company had already given me more than enough.

It gave me him.

I ducked out of the building at lunch to call Nick, thankful I had the number saved in my phone from the time he’d texted me their progress on a run. His voice was so much like Logan’s it was unnerving. “I was hoping you could help me,” I said.

“I’m still married, so if this is another shower request, my answer is no.”

“You’re hilarious.” I was glad he couldn’t see me blush. “I wanted to surprise Logan . . .” I just realized he might not know that Logan and I were taking space. “Have you talked to him recently?”

“Yeah, I had to call him on Wednesday to tell him about the awesome stress fracture in my foot.”

“In your foot? What about your race?”

“I guess I’ll have to try to beat Logan next year.”

Months of training, gone. “God, that’s awful.”

He made a noise, sort of an
oh well.
“It happens. What did you want to talk about? Logan said he’d screwed something up at the office and you weren’t too thrilled with him right now.”

“I’ve gotten over it,” I announced to myself. “But Logan doesn’t know that yet, and I was kind of hoping to show him on Sunday. If you’re not running, are you still planning on going?”

“Oh yeah. Hilary had made up some signs for me, and I thought I could use them on Logan. Some of them will be epic.”

“Do you mind if I still tag along?”

“Of course not.”

“Great, thanks. Can we keep it on the down-low? ”

His half-laugh was similar to Logan’s. “I’ll try my best.”

I dressed in skinny jeans, a gray long-sleeved shirt and knee-high boots, looping a scarf around my neck. It was warm for October in Chicago, but not all that warm. Sunny with a slight breeze, and perfect marathon weather. Hilary said Nick had bitched about missing out the whole time as they walked with Logan to the starting corral. I’d met them just past mile four with coffees I’d grabbed for them at a Starbucks.

“How is he?” I asked.

“He’s fine,” Nick said. “He was disappointed you weren’t with us.”

Hilary smiled. “He’s just nervous.”

I couldn’t meet Logan as he made his way to the starting gate. I wanted that moment when he was running along and spotted me in the crowd cheering for him. I hadn’t been allowed to ask questions when he’d taken off the blindfold, and now he wouldn’t be able to either. Not when he was trying to break his personal record.

The streets were thick with people, but Nick knew where the best spots were for spectators, and his phone chimed with an automated text when Logan’s bib crossed the start so we had a rough idea of when to expect him.

“If he’s keeping pace, we’ve only got another minute,” Nick said. He looked through the signs Hilary had in her enormous purse, and selected one.

“Really?” she asked. The sign read: “I’m so proud of you, Snuggles.”

“Snuggles?” A grin widened on my face.

Nick shrugged it off. “I like to hold my woman close, what’s the big deal?”

We moved deeper into the crowd of people, edging our way up to the road. Runners flew past, and I watched in disbelief. They were going fast, much faster than I could ever run. They’d just done four miles, with another twenty-two to go. Insane.

“What’s he wearing?” I asked.

“White shirt, black shorts and hat.”

A whole herd of runners went by with women who looked like there wasn’t an ounce of fat on their bodies. The crowd was thick.

“Did we miss him?”

“There he is!” Nick pointed out in the distance to the wave of runners barreling toward us. He extended the sign out toward his brother. “Logan! You got this, man.”

Logan looked relaxed and focused. His eyes glanced at the sign in Nick’s hands and a faint smile curled on his face. I was vaguely aware Hilary was clapping and saying something like, “Go, Logan!” I thought I was clapping. Thought was difficult when our eyes met.

He didn’t slow down, nor did his eyes widen in surprise. An enormous grin burst on his face, and he was so handsome I thought my heart exploded. How could I ever stay away from him? Then he went past, his feet slapping the pavement in quick bursts, carrying him down the road alongside dozens of other runners.

We had to hurry to the next stop and almost missed him.

“He’s ahead of his pace,” Nick said with a scowl.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“He doesn’t want to peak too soon and then not have enough to finish strong.”

Nick told him as much at the stop, and Logan nodded, his warm eyes locked on mine. He was sweaty, and gorgeous, and I wanted to yell at him to take his shirt off.

It was frantic going from stop to stop because Logan was moving so fast and the crowd was dense no matter where we went. He’d dialed it back too much at the third stop and had fallen behind the pace he wanted to maintain, which made Nick pull out the “You’re so sexy when you’re sweaty” sign. I gave Hilary a smile, letting her know I thoroughly agreed.

“Mile twenty-five’s going to be slammed,” Nick said. “You two go ahead and get a spot, and I’ll text you when I see him at twenty-one.”

The finish line was closed to spectators, so this was the closest we could get to see him finishing. We watched as a guy, younger than Logan, pulled off to the side and was eventually helped away by EMTs. How was Logan fairing? This wasn’t his first marathon, but still. He’d looked less relaxed last time we’d seen him, but Nick was also shouting out that he’d fallen off pace.

I was nervous for him, and once Hilary got the text, my nerves kicked up.

“It won’t be long now, he’s going to do these last miles quick,” she said. “I hope Nick can make it in time, but he fucking better not run.”

“Is it killing him not to be out there?”

“No, he’s okay. I think he’s getting a kick out of helping Logan.”

Twenty minutes later, Nick pushed his way through the people and found us. “He’s fading, but I think he’ll do it.”

Logan wanted to finish under four hours. He’d told me his last marathon he’d finished in four hours and two minutes. So close to hitting a sub-four hour race. Every time Nick glanced down to check his phone, I glanced with him. Three hours and forty-one minutes.

Time kept ticking by, and no Logan. The playful banter between the newlyweds ceased, and I thought we were all chanting in our heads for Logan to be the next racer to turn the corner.

“Yeah, man!” Nick suddenly cried. “Holy shit, he’s gonna get it.”

Logan’s shirt was pasted to his body in sweat, or possibly water he’d tossed on himself, and there was a focused expression I’d never seen before. Utterly competitive and driven. It turned my insides into liquid, flooding me with desire.

He swung his arms, one hand clutching a black pouch of energy gel, and seeing us gave him the final burst I think he needed. Every second brought him closer, and closer, and closer to me. And then, he was gone, streaming toward the finish.

We hurried toward the runner reunion area in Grant Park, and a few minutes later Nick’s phone buzzed with notification of Logan’s unofficial time. He’d done it.

His younger brother was all smiles. “He’ll have to go through gear check, but it shouldn’t be much longer.”

We waited outside the tall green fence as runners meandered out the exit, finisher medals and shiny Mylar blankets draped over their fatigued bodies, but smiles on their faces.

Then, he appeared through the line of runners.

“Hell, yeah,” Nick said. “Three hours, fifty-seven minutes, forty-two seconds.”

It’s like Logan wasn’t even listening. His focused look was on me.

“Hi,” he said loudly over the fans around us as he approached.

“Hi, boss,” I yelled back. “I’m so proud of—”

“I have to tell you something.” It was hard to hear, and I worked through the crowd, Hilary and Nick following me.

“What is it?” I was concerned when I reached him. He looked . . . weird. Exhausted from the race, but also nervous. Nick passed a black pouch of energy gel to him and took the gear bag from Logan’s hands. To my side, Hilary had her phone out. Was she taking pictures?

“I don’t want to keep anything from you,” he said. “So you should know I bought an engagement ring.”

I couldn’t hear the people around us anymore. “What? When?”

“That day you had lunch with Blake.”

Right after he’d heard me confess I thought he could be the one.
Oh. My. God.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this stunning information. And that black pouch wasn’t energy gel. It wasn’t plastic, but fabric. My body tingled with anticipation and nerves.

“I have rules.” His fingers disappeared into the pouch. “Just one, actually. You have to answer my questions honestly.”

It was a platinum band with a large emerald-cut diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds, and the moment it came out he sank to one knee. I pressed my fingers to my lips, my gaze going from his, to the ring he held up, and then back to him. My body froze into a statue.

There was a red observation tower nearby that elevated the race spotters a few feet above the crowd and, when Logan knelt down, the spotter went on high alert.

“Runner down,” he yelled into a megaphone. “Runner down.”

Logan’s gaze went to the man in the tower and turned to his brother. “Is he talking about me?”

Nick yelled to the spotter that Logan was fine. That he was proposing. It wouldn’t sink in, even after hearing that. Logan Stone was down on one knee, proposing. To me. His focus returned to mine when it was clear the spotter got what was happening.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

I nodded, my eyes wet with tears. “Yes.”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes.”

He was breathing rapidly, but I had no idea if it was from what he was saying, or the twenty-six miles he’d just run. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”