Unsettled (15 page)

“Well anyone who is able to treat my dear friend with the utmost respect and understands that the sun rises and sets on her existence is good with me. But if you can’t, we’ll have a problem, I assure you.”

“I agree with you—she should be treated with the utmost care.” I cowered back into my chair and Logan just looked at me and smiled. I really hated being the center of attention.

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

“Oh my God, I can hear you guys. Can we please change the subject,” I interjected.

While Logan engaged in various conversations with Alex and Jay, ranging from basketball to what they’d studied in college, I was in my own realm. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that Logan Colton—one of the youngest and richest men in the nation, had come to be sitting at my dinner table—eating a lasagna recipe that I’d snagged out of
Martha Stewart Living
. The clang of a knife snapped me back to their present conversation.

“Where are you traveling to next?” Alex asked. She amazed me with how she just moved on with the conversation like she hadn’t just rolled a grenade into the dining room.

“Florida,” he said in between bites of food.

“Oh well that sounds nice. I’ve never been there,” I said, chiming in.

“What other places have you traveled to?” I filled my mouth with the last remnants of the small salad I’d piled on my plate. I was glad Logan had come for dinner, but in his presence I couldn’t even enjoy the gooey cheese and Italian sausage casserole. I didn’t usually have a problem eating in front of a guy. One time Damon watched as I inhaled a family size bag of Doritos when I was on my period with no remorse.

“I’ve been to various states in the U.S., and to Europe a few times,” he replied, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Florida is cool—some places really do just look like the pictures,” he said. “But I doubt I can find this in Florida,” he said, pointing to his nearly empty plate. “Dinner was excellent Brooklyn. Thank you,” he said, placing his dinner napkin on the table.

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said. I took a sip of water. “You’re lucky, you know. I would love to go to Europe. I’ve been trying to save up to go to Italy forever.”

“Well maybe you’ll get there sooner than you think.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

I excused myself to start clearing the table and cleaning up the monumental mess that Alex and I had made in the kitchen.

“Oh, let me help you with those,” he said, scooting back from the table, grabbing his plate and silverware.

“You don’t have to do that—you’re our guest,” I said. I placed the leftovers on the kitchen island so that I could spoon them into Tupperware containers.

“She’s right Logan—we can handle it,” Alex chimed in, standing from her chair. I was annoyed that Alex now wanted to pull a page out of
Miss Manners’ Guide to Elegance.

“No, I want to help. At my parents’ house whoever cooked had immunity from cleaning the kitchen that night, he remarked. “Just put the dishes here?” he asked, motioning his head toward the sink.

“That’s fine—thanks,” I said, dropping the serving utensils into soapy water.

Logan and I stood side by side as we washed and dried the dishes. I discreetly checked out his arm muscles the few times our arms collided. I didn’t doubt that he spent plenty of time in the gym to stay fit and nimble. As I stood next to him washing one dish after another, I wondered what his muscles would feel like wrapped around my body while my legs were around his torso.
Get it together, Brooklyn!
My subconscious screamed, pulling my mind out of the gutter.

“Thank you again. It’s not often I get a home-cooked meal—one of the inconveniences of traveling and being a bachelor,” he said as he rinsed a glass in the warm water. I could understand that he traveled a lot for work. But why was he still trolling the bachelor scene? Surely there were multitudes of women who wanted to snap him up.

I smiled while massaging soap onto the dirty plate in my hands, “I get to travel the world over, but I yearn for the simplicity of slightly overcooked lasagna …oh the horror!” I said, chiding him playfully.

“You would be surprised how many things a person gives up to pursue launching a business. It’s not about the food, it’s who you share it with—and in my case I’m usually doing that alone.”

“I understand. Shuttling from one place to another has to get tiring. I get tired of my morning commute,” I said, attempting to be humorous.

“Everything has a trade-off.”
What did he mean by that?
Silence fell between us. I was lost in thought thinking about what his elusive words meant. We finished washing the last of the dishes.

“So are we still on for the movies?” he asked. He dried his hands on the dish towel I handed him.

“It’s almost…eight thirty,” he said, placing his watch back on his wrist.

“I’m fine with that if you still want to go,” I said. I ran a dish towel around the area of the sink to sop up the excess water.

“I’d still like to go,” he said.

“Let me just change my shirt really quick,” I said, pulling the thin fabric away from my stomach. “Seems like the washing got a little out of hand. It’ll only take me a couple minutes,” I said, turning to walk to my bedroom.

As soon as I shut the door, I heard a light tap. I placed my hand on the knob and opened the door. Alex squeezed her way into my bedroom undetected.

“He is freaking hot!” Alex said in a low squawk.

“Here we go,” I said. I threw my hands up in exasperation and walked to my pile of clothes on the chair.

“No really Brooklyn, he seems nice and he’s cute,” she said while I was combing through the mound of clothes looking for a new shirt.

I turned to look at her. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. I told you to mind your manners. I could have sworn I said no interrogations.”

“Nope, I don’t seem to recall you saying that I couldn’t inquire about his love life. I stayed within the parameters given. You should be more specific next time. Don’t be mad.”

“I can’t stay mad at you.” I stepped back from the chair. “I could like him.” Those four words were now officially floating in the universe. Alex leaned in and gave me a quick hug, “I’m glad to hear it! Just don’t sabotage it—let it happen naturally and enjoy the ride.”

“Yeah, I know. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to change my shirt.”

“Where are you guys going?” she asked.

“To the movies.”

“Wear the pale yellow long sleeve. It always looks cute with those jeans.”

“Okay, Bossy. Bye,” I said, playfully pushing her out of my room. I took Alex’s advice and changed into the yellow shirt, choosing to match it with my amber dangle earrings and jean jacket. I stopped by my bathroom to brush my teeth. Garlic breath was a turnoff no matter what the occasion.

Alex made a good call on the shirt. I stared at myself in the mirror—
so you like him, now what?

“Ready to go?” I asked, coming down the hallway. I pulled my purse out of the hall closet.

“Yep. Let’s hit it,” he responded enthusiastically.

“You kids have fun now, you hear?” Alex said in her best Southern belle accent from her spot on the couch. She and Jay were snuggled together watching TV.

“Good bye, my crazy best friend,” I said laughing.

We headed out of the house and I locked up behind us. We walked down the front steps to where the Range Rover was parked. Logan opened the front passenger side door and held his hand out to assist me. I looked inside the SUV and then back at Logan. “What, no driver today?” I said, giggling.

“Didn’t you say having a driver was over the top?” I was speechless that Logan actually remembered anything I said from the night we went out.

“I can drive you know,” I offered. “My car is right over there,” I said, pointing to where Aspen was parked across the street.

“No, it’s cool. Your buddy Trent was nice enough to arrange for me to have the vehicle for the weeks that I’m in town.” I was glad to hear he was staying for a while. “Plus, Merick will be following us.”

“What does Merick do? I thought he was your driver.”

“More like part of my security team; comes with the territory,” he said, shrugging.
Security?

He offered his hand so that I could step up into the Range Rover. I let his hand go as I leaned back into the seat, “Thank you.” Logan walked around the front of the SUV.

“Do you know how to get to the theater?” I asked.

“I sure do,” he said, patting the GPS display on the dash. I laughed at his gesture.

Thirty minutes later we parked in front of the theater. When Logan opened my door the heated cabin of the Range Rover became an instant refrigerator as the brusque air swarmed in. We walked quickly up the stairway to the theater braving the cool air. Spring was upon us, but the weather hadn’t warmed up to full capacity yet.

As soon as I saw the three long lines of people waiting for tickets, I remembered why I avoided movie premiere weekends.

“Too bad we didn’t pre-order our tickets. Look at these lines,” I said, making a face at the long lines of moviegoers.

“I already got our tickets. I’ll meet you inside in a sec—I’m sure it’s warmer in there,” he responded. I didn’t argue with him about buying my ticket. I was just grateful to not have to wait in the enormously long line.

“I’ll just wait here,” I said, tapping my foot on the step.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He walked up to the will call ticket window and was back in a few short minutes. We walked into the building. The scent of popcorn lingered in the air. Logan looked at his watch. “The movie starts in twenty minutes. Do you want to go to the snack bar first?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Um is your…security following us around?” I asked.

“Yeah, he stays back a ways to be inconspicuous.”

“Oh,” I mused.
Bodyguards and millionaires,
I thought to myself. His admission reminded me that we were in fact in different leagues.

Luckily there were multiple lines open so we were able to order quickly. He ordered a box of Raisinets, and I stuck with my usual small popcorn and Sprite since I hadn’t ate much at dinner. After I doused my snack with butter and sprinkled salt, we walked towards Theater Nine.

“Let me get that,” he said, opening the door so that I could walk in.

“Thanks,” I replied modestly. He was ever the gentleman.

“Where do you want to sit?” he asked in a whisper. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness and then replied, “I always sit at the top.”

“After you,” he said in the darkness.

“Are you good sitting here?” I asked, stopping three rows from the very top of the stadium seating.

“Works for me.”

We relaxed into our cushioned seats as previews reeled across the big screen.

“Do you come to the movies a lot?” I asked.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he murmured.

“Yeah, me neither. I usually just wait for movies to be released to DVD and watch them on my laptop,” I admitted.

While the previews continued to play on the big screen Logan and I pretended to be Siskel and Ebert, voicing our opinion of each preview by rating it a thumb’s-up or down. By the time
Transformers
started I’d handed out five rotten reviews.

A few times during the movie my heart skipped a beat at particular scenes, especially when Optimus Prime’s life was in peril. By the end of the movie I almost wanted to cheer loudly for Michael Bay—he’d done a great job of bringing the fictional characters to life on the green screen.

“That was such a good movie,” I gushed, as we followed the sea of people out of the double exit doors.

“I thought so too,” he said, smiling at my reaction.

11

“S
o…what now?” he asked, as we followed the crowd out of the theater.

“Shh…I think I hear my bed calling,” I laughed, even though I wasn’t ready to part ways with him. I was getting more comfortable with him as our evening together wore on.

“Wow—you sure know how to party hard.”

“I did my share of partying in college—now I’m an adult with responsibilities,” I remarked, funneling my arms through my coat before we headed out into the icy air.

“I saw a diner down the street from here—we could grab coffee or something,” he offered.

“All right, but don’t blame me if I pass out from exhaustion.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that boring, or at least I hope I’m not,” he smiled.

Logan pushed open the door and I passed through. Side by side we walked the block and a half to the diner. I pulled my coat tighter when the wind gusted fiercely. Logan noted my efforts to block the cold air and pulled me close to him, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. When we reached the outside of the diner he let me go to open the door.

“Thanks,” I said, entering the warm establishment. Apparently the food was good because there was a thirty-minute wait. We took our seats in the confined waiting area and perused the menu.

“What are you going to order?”

“Not sure yet. What about you?” he asked, turning a page in his oversized menu.

“The hot chocolate is calling my name.” My pores wouldn’t be thanking me for all the sugar and fat I’d consumed in a matter of hours, but whatever.