Bad Love (Modern Romance Book 2) Page 20

  He couldn’t.

  "Sex toys."

  He did.

  I choke on the champagne I'm drinking.

  But his mom says, "Really? Haven't heard that one before."

  "You find love in the strangest places."

  "You certainly do." His mom walks away with a smile.

  I stare after her before excusing myself to go to the bathroom, where I stare at myself in the gilded mirror. I'm wearing a borrowed dress, borrowed shoes, borrowed earrings. But between the hint of if-there-was-ever-a-day-to-contour-it’s-today bronzer and my blush from the conversation that just happened, I look alive.

  The most important part of my life isn't even here. Rory's at his grandparents’, hours away. I should feel guilty.

  But my heart is split because there's a man outside I'm crazy about.

  One I just had sex with in a shower.

  One who told his mom point-blank that he met me selling sex toys and expected her to like me anyway.

  One who might have said he loved me as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  It must've been a turn of phrase. A throwaway saying. He can't have meant it.

  But no matter what Logan feels, I haven't felt this way in a long time. Maybe ever.

  I don't know if there's a way to make it work with Logan long term. I don’t know if he wants to settle down with someone. I don’t even know if I want to.

  Everything in my head says I should be sensible.

  But everything in my heart wants to try.

  22

  I've attended this party every year for as long as I can remember. Before my parents hosted it, my grandmother did. I was always on good behavior, and not in that way some kids are, like they’re forced to.

  I was on good behavior because I wanted to be. Here, surrounded by family and friends, was the only time I felt completely at ease.

  My parents always said they were proud of me, but for this one day a year, I believed it. I could charm any donor or politician, any husband or wife, any neighbor or friend. Talk to them, relate to them, just be with them.

  After graduating college, no matter where I traveled or for what, I always returned for this.

  Tonight, I'm not at ease. For the first time, I feel as if something's missing.

  I scan the room and find Kendall when she returns from the bathroom. Her gaze lands on me, and a sharp tug grabs the center of my chest.

  Kendall's fucking gorgeous, and it's not the heels, though I love that she wore them. It’s not the hair, though the waves over her shoulders are hypnotizing. It’s not the dress, though I can’t wait to peel it off her.

  It’s that she’s fresh and honest and real. That she meets everyone with a smile as if she’s genuinely curious about them and delighted by them.

  She stood with me through endless introductions and catch-ups. Through my mom’s speech from the double doors that lead out to the garden. Through the setup of the band and a dozen songs.

  She’s more comfortable around kid stuff and ad campaign design, and she’s here with me because she wants to be.

  Now, she’s headed back from the bathroom for the second time tonight, and it’s crazy how much I noticed her absence.

  "Dance with me," I say when she returns.

  "Really?"

  "You're wearing heels, and there's music. It's like that salsa class you were gonna take."

  She snorts. "Can you imagine?"

  "I'm imagining right now." I brush my lips across her forehead. Her lashes lower.

  "I might trip in these shoes," she warns.

  I pull her close, brushing her ear with my lips. "Hold onto me."

  I've been pulling her close all night, following her with my eyes when we get separated.

  "You seemed overwhelmed when I introduced you to my mom. I promise she liked you."

  "It was quite the introduction."

  I want to say, “Which part? The sex toy part or the part about love?”

  I hadn’t planned that. It just came out.

  Because here amongst the music and the lights and the smiles and the familiarity of everyone here, everyone I love? She fits seamlessly into it. Makes everything brighter and warmer.

  My hand skims over her bare shoulder and down her arm, lingering at a few of the freckles along the way.

  I wasn't exaggerating when I said all my favorite things were together tonight.

  The band plays "Sail Away," and I pull her closer, inhaling her hair.

  "We should go on a trip," I murmur.

  "A trip?"

  "Paris. I heard you might be interested."

  Her gaze lifts to mine. “Logan, that’s crazy.”

  “Not at all.” Especially now that I'm picturing her and me in a little flat in Butte-Montmartre, her flushed skin against the crisp white sheets. "How about the week after the board meeting?"

  Her eyes round. “I can’t afford Paris right now.”

  “I can,” I offer as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, because it is. I meant what I said before. I want her to ask me for things, and I want to give them to her.

  "As generous as that is and as much as it’ll be a relief to have this project behind me, I'm still working for other clients. And from what you said to Monty in the car about custom brews and partnerships, it sounds like you will be too."

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “I thought you would protest on the grounds that I proposed something beyond the official end of our work together.”

  She makes a little sound in her throat. “No. Not protesting that.”

  I stroke her hand, my gaze dropping to the soft skin of her shoulder as I smile. "Good. August. You must have vacation time. Rory’d love it there. The food, the chefs, the farms."

  Her gaze melts. "It's his birthday next week."

  I stop dancing. “Nine minus twenty-two,” I remember Rory saying.

  “I'm going to get him the best present ever," I vow.

  Kendall looks past my shoulder, a half smile on her face. "You don't have to do that."

  "I want to."

  Her eyes shine at me as though I’ve handed her the damn moon. We're surrounded by people, and it doesn't matter. I kiss her.

  Long.

  Lingering.

  She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know about Paris, but what are you doing three Saturdays from now?”

  I cock my head. “Not sure.”

  She ducks her face. “I’ve sold every ticket for the talent show.”

  “For real?” I pull back to look at her. “We need more champagne. Stat.” I look around, and she laughs, tugging me back. “How?”

  “I emailed and called the parents of every kid in the talent show. Then hit up the other parents, saying they should support their kids’ friends. Then I found a regional moms’ group that runs events and convinced them this would be great inspiration for their own school events. Finally, I called the principal’s office, saying parents from other schools were coming to watch our school set an example and they’d look bad if the school administration wasn’t sufficiently represented.”

  Her eyes sparkle.

  “So, I’ve sold every ticket… except one.” My chest expands so much I think it might explode. “If you’re busy, I understand, and I didn’t say anything to Rory about it.”

  “It’d be an honor.”

  Kendall beams. “Check your calendar.”

  “I don’t need to. Anything in there can be moved.”

  The song ends, but she stays in my hold as if she doesn’t want to leave.

  That makes two of us.

  She yawns, and suddenly I realize it's midnight.

  "Sorry," she says. "I’m not used to grown-up bedtimes. Usually I tuck Rory in at eight and get a couple of hours of work in before I crash."

  "Go to bed."

  "I don't want to abandon you."

  I smile. "I'll manage, Peach. I’ve done it for practically the last thirty years."

 
; Though as I watch her walk away, I honestly can’t remember how.

  I feel Monty’s presence even before I hear his voice. "I hope we didn't scare her off."

  "She doesn't scare easily."

  Monty shoots me a look. "That wishful thinking?"

  I frown. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean you want to keep her around. You're serious about this girl." He raises a brow. "You're getting serious about a lot of things."

  "I'm pinch-hitting at Hunter’s Cross, and we both know it." I take a sip of my drink. "It's been a month. I can do anything that long."

  "Then what about the talk in the car, huh? These recipes? Someone's going to have to carry them out." Before I can answer, he looks past me and nods. "Mrs. Hunter."

  "Montgomery." My grandmother's crisp voice carries over the music. "Would you give us a moment?"

  As Monty leaves, a waiter offers me champagne, and I shake my head. “Jerry, come on,” I say, because he’s been working this party five years. “I’m not drinking that shit.”

  “It’s Dom.”

  “Cross IPA or bust.” He nods with a half smile and shuffles off.

  "You've been busy with the company," my grandmother says, watching Jerry leave. "I hear you're making your presence felt more than normal. Frederick raves about you, and the sales numbers don't lie."

  "That means a lot."

  "I told you when we had breakfast that I’d like to see you take a greater hand in running things. But there's more than that. I'm not well, Logan.”

  I step closer, lowering my voice for privacy, but also for the excuse to study her face. “You told me about the pills.”

  “It’s more than that. I have a ticking clock.”

  Her declaration has emotion working through me. Somehow, I’d thought she’d be here forever. I don’t pry because she wouldn’t want me to, but my chest aches. “How long?”

  “A year. Perhaps two.”

  I hear a throat clearing and blink before I notice Jerry’s returned with my beer. I reach automatically for the glass but can’t find a smile. He disappears as quickly as he came, and I turn back to my grandmother.

  “Which means I need to make decisions not only about how Hunter’s Cross is operated, but how it’s owned. And I'd like to leave the controlling shares to you."

  Shock works over me. I had no idea this was where she was going when we met a few weeks ago. But from her expression, I can see this was the plan all along.

  I feel the urge to claw at my neck, my collar suddenly too tight. My fingers clench around the icy beer glass instead. There’s no way I can drink it right now. “If you’re going to hand the company to someone, Monty’s more responsible. He’d protect what you’ve built. Sometimes I think he’d do it better without me.”

  She tsks. “Running a business teaches you to take responsibility. There’s nowhere to hide when things go badly. But you can’t build an empire out of pinching pennies and playing it safe either. Bottom line: I want to leave it with someone I trust. That person is you.”

  She walks away, and I stare at my beer a long moment before setting it, still untouched, on the tray of a passing waiter. My phone buzzes, and I glance at it.

  Nellie: You missed out in Ibiza, bitch. The stories I have to tell you…

  I forgot he was back already. Hell, I would’ve been too if I’d gone. But I didn’t think about it once.

  Nellie: In 30 days, I can throw my own party with my own beer. You got a good IPA? Think I’ll rename it after me.

  Guilt crushes down on me. My grandmother's telling me how proud she is, something I've wanted for ages, and I'm the asshole who’s risked everything she built.

  It’s unforgiveable.

  I stick around the party, helping to host until the last guests are gone. But I can't get my grandmother's offer—request?—out of my head.

  When I finally excuse myself and make my way up the stairs, my room is dark. I shut the door quietly and strip out of my clothes, laying them on the dresser. Wearing just my boxer briefs, I slide into bed.

  I'm a little drunk, and I reach around Kendall’s waist, my fingers up under the hem of her tank top and brushing her stomach as I tug her against me. "You awake?"

  She turns into my arms. "How was your night?" she asks sleepily.

  "Intense."

  Kendall lifts a cool hand to my face, her thumb brushing my cheek as her breath fans my face. "What's up?" Her usual attentiveness is already entering her voice.

  What's up? It's so innocent, but it has everything tumbling out.

  "My grandmother wants to give me the company.” I blow out a long breath. “I don't know where she gets these crazy-ass ideas."

  "Like you get crazy-ass ideas?" She sits up, even though I can just make out the silhouette of her face in the dark. "Maybe you rub up against each other because she sees what you're capable of."

  "I'm not that guy. I'm not Monty. I'm the hype man, not the guy who does performance reviews and balances budgets." I struggle to put it into words. “It’s like… when I’m there, I’m all there. And I’m fucking good at what I do. But there are just some things I’m not good at. I’m not the guy to measure twice and cut once. To watch everyone’s back. Not because I don’t want to. I just…” I rub both hands over my face. “I fuck it up.”

  "You don't have to be Monty. You have to be you.” Her hands find mine, thumbs stroking soothing circles over my palms. “That doesn’t mean you don’t need to grow or that it’s not hard. But human beings are resilient, Logan. We’re built to bend."

  I think of her situation, finding herself a single mom. What that must've been like. Her strength to get through it. I hold her tighter as I blow out a long breath. “I don’t know anyone as brave as you, Peach.”

  "Being with Blake wasn't the best experience."

  Hearing his name has my body tensing.

  "But it taught me about the kind of person I want to be,” she says. “Everything teaches us something if we're willing to learn."

  I turn that over in my head as I try to sleep.

  The next morning, I get up before Kendall and, after dropping a light kiss on her lips, head downstairs. My mom's in the kitchen with a pot of coffee.

  "Some party. You did it again."

  "We always do." She pours me a cup.

  "Conned money out of any big corporations lately?" I ask.

  "Lots." With a smile, she tells me about her work.

  After a sip of the dark roast she has imported especially for her, I say, "You like it. Does it get boring after a while? I mean, you could do anything you want."

  If she knows why I'm asking, she doesn't let on. "It does and it doesn't. There's repetition. Following up with people. It's hard, but that makes it good too."

  I'm relieved to see Kendall coming down the stairs. "Morning."

  She's wearing faded skinny jeans and a white sleeveless top, plus bright pink-and-gold bracelets. Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders. The smile she sends my way has my body humming.

  I’m reminded of our talk in bed last night. I can’t remember opening up to anyone like that before. When the words spilled out of me, I wasn’t expecting anything other than for her to be there and hear them.

  But of course she did better than that. She always does.

  "What are you two getting up to today?" my mother asks, jolting me out of my Kendall-induced haze.

  Kendall looks at me. "I'm not sure," she says at the same time as I say, "We have big plans."

  "Big plans?" Kendall asks.

  "I thought we could go snorkelling. You bring a bathing suit?"

  She shoots me a guilty look. "I wasn't sure what to bring, so I brought everything."

  "You a good swimmer?"

  "Best in Orange." Kendall grins.

  An hour later, we're out on the boat.

  "Have you always had this?" she calls into the breeze as I steer us out into the water.

  "Pretty much. My dad wanted to sell it at one point, but I t
old him I'd buy it from him. So, I did."

  Once we're out a bit, I drop anchor. My boat doesn't have a deep hull, so it's easy to navigate.

  When I turn back, Kendall's stripped down to the world's hottest one-piece. It's bright red, and I immediately take back everything I've ever said about loving bikinis. It shows off her breasts, held up by slim straps, and it's cut high on the thighs. Not my mom's eighties workout videos high, but high enough that when she turns, my gaze is dragged down the curve of her ass.

  I strip down too, enjoying the feel of the sun on my skin.

  I grab the snorkeling stuff and help her put on her mask, sticking it to her face. "When you get in the water, wet it around the edges. It'll stick better."

  "When was the last time you snorkelled?” she asks.

  “At least a few years,” I admit. "Most weekends we dive."

  "You never told me what you dive for. Treasure?"

  "More like lost phones and watches and stuff. It’s fun to find things and send them back to their owners.”

  Her eyes go round. “How do you find their owners?”

  “You’d be surprised. Phones can be revived. Watches have inscriptions. It’s a high to give someone back something they never thought they could have. This one guy lost the Rolex his wife gave him for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.” I smile, thinking about it.

  “And you returned it to him?”

  “Of course. What’m I gonna do with a Rolex inscribed ‘To Barry with all my love’?”

  She shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. “You're very competent, Logan. It's sexy. Why don't you go all-in on something more often?"

  "Because I end up having to sell ten thousand vibrators to keep my grandma's company."

  She shakes her head, but her eyes sparkle. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” I wait for her to go down the ladder. Then I drop off the side, splashing her. "Watch the current. It's strong."

  We swim together, though I focus more on the sights than Kendall. The water here is shallow enough we can't see anything too crazy, but I love the feeling of exploring.

  I pop out of the water, intending to show her something, but don't see her.